Brawler

by Scott Hildreth

  I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth and swallowed again. “Okay.”

  “What did you call it earlier? The space between us?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Let’s just agree that we’re always together in here.” He pressed the palm of his hand against my boobs. Eventually, it came to rest against my heart.

  My heartbeat increased tenfold. He smiled. I smiled in return. “Okay.”

  “If we do that,” he said. “We’ll never be apart.”

  Never apart.

  It was exactly what I was after.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Jaz

  Day eighty-two.

  Ripp had called me to a meeting with Shane Dekkar to discuss what he found out from USA Boxing. Eager to find out what my record was and if we could use it in my promotions, I agreed to meet, but insisted that Ethan come along.

  If Ethan was going to be included in my future, he needed to be included in decisions about my future.

  With Ethan at my side, I knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  I pushed the door open and peered inside. Kelsey and Ripp stood at the front edge of the champ’s desk, laughing and talking. As soon as we stepped through the door, the talking stopped.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about.

  The champ stood up and extended his hand. “Ethan.”

  Ethan shook his hand.

  He released Ethan’s hand and shook mine. “Jaz.”

  I smiled. “Mr. Dekkar.”

  “Dekk, or Shane, please.”

  I grinned. “I like Dekk.”

  “Then call me Dekk.”

  “Glad that’s settled.” Ripp chuckled.

  “Spaz,” Kelsey said with a nod.

  I rolled my eyes at him and positioned myself beside Ripp. “What did you find out? I’m guessing something or you wouldn’t have called me, huh?”

  He sat down at his desk. “As with all amateurs there’s what actually happened, and what’s official. They’re never the same. Trainers, managers, record keepers, there’s always messing with numbers. So, with you, all we know is what’s official.”

  He reached for a folder, opened it, and met my gaze. “Care to guess?”

  I shrugged.

  “Ethan? You care to guess?”

  I hadn’t told Ethan anything about my previous record. Not telling him was out of respect more than anything, and for me to maintain a healthy level of humility. In short, I didn’t want to seem pretentious or conceited about my career.

  He shrugged. “I really don’t know.” He glanced at me, then reached for my hand. While holding my hand in his, he continued. “We haven’t talked about it. She asked me to come to support her in making decisions about her future.”

  Dekk nodded.

  “Just fuckin’ say it. I swear. You and your beatin’ around the bush bullshit. Tell her,” Ripp complained.

  “Wins, one hundred and thirty-two. Including the wins here at the gym, one hundred and thirty-five. One hundred and thirty-five official wins.” He glanced at each and every person in the room.

  My heart pounded. It was exciting to know the official numbers, although I suspected they would be something close to what he said. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t that impressive. I was young, and the girls I fought weren’t as well-trained as me. I wondered how Ethan felt regarding everything. I began to feel guilty for bringing him. For his sake, I wished my record didn’t have as many wins. I squeezed his hand.

  He squeezed mine in return.

  “Care to hear the losses?” Dekk asked.

  I glanced at Ethan. He smiled. I looked at Dekk and shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Let me see if I can find it.” He traced his finger along the surface of the paper. It came to a stop at a location out of view to all of us. “Oh, wait. Yeah, here it is.”

  He looked up. “Zero.”

  My heart raced. “Zero?”

  He nodded. “Officially, zero. Officially, you’re 135-0. Officially, you have a better record than I do. Officially, your record is one of the most impressive records out there. Oscar De La Hoya was 223-5 as an amateur. Kid Chocolate’s amateur record was 100-0…”

  “Donald Curry’s was 400-4,” Kelsey interrupted. “Amateur record, that is.”

  “The point we’re making, Jaz, is this.” He dropped the file onto the desk. “Your record is impressive. You’re impressive.”

  I squeezed Ethan’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “This information? It’s public record. Anyone can obtain it. All they have to do is ask. I’ve taken the liberties to leak it out to a few people, and for good reason.”

  He looked at Kelsey and then Ripp. He inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled. He fixed his eyes on me. “Do you know who Shay Simpson is?”

  Ethan squeezed my hand firmly. I squeezed back. My throat tightened. “Shockwave? Shay Shockwave Simpson?”

  He chuckled. “That’s her.”

  Everyone knew who Shockwave Simpson was, even if they didn’t follow women’s boxing. She was on the news constantly. She was in movies, magazines, commercials, everything. When she wasn’t in a fight defending her title, she was talking shit on whoever was preparing to fight her next. Her tasteless quotations were all over Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. It was so bad that a #shockwave search on Google or Twitter would produce thousands of her ridiculous remarks.

  “She’s the champ,” I said. “135 pounds of bad ass, that’s who she is. Everyone knows her, she’s on ESPN talking shit on people all the time.”

  Everyone laughed. Dekk inhaled another deep breath and then folded his arms in front of his chest. “How’d you like to fight her one day?”

  “I’d love to fight her someday,” I said excitedly. “Her, or someone like her. That’s my dream.”

  “What if a chance like that came, oh, as soon as next month?”

  I coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  There was no way Shockwave Simpson would fight me. She fought women who had been in the pros for years, most of which she considered to be her rivals. She and her opponents bickered back and forth on Twitter, sending out tweets about each other, building up hype for the upcoming fights.

  “Let me explain something,” Dekk said.

  “Can I sit down?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Sure.”

  “Well.” I pointed at Ripp and Kelsey. “Everyone’s standing. I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.”

  “Nothing to be nervous about,” he said. “We’re all family here.”

  Shane Dekkar appeared to be the opposite of Shockwave Simpson. He was just a down to earth guy who happened to be a great boxer, and it was easy to admire him.

  I counted the available chairs.

  Three.

  “Sit down,” I whispered, pointing to a chair beside Ethan. “I’ll sit on your lap.”

  Ethan didn’t argue, and quickly took the seat. I sat on his lap and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt comfortable in his arms.

  Protected.

  I nestled in Ethan’s lap and looked up. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Dekk looked around the room. “Championship fights are more about money than anything. During training, there are times when either the challenger or the champion gets hurt. If that happens, their team keeps it quiet. A leak to the press of an injury will change the odds on the fight, and have a huge effect on the money bet – and potentially earned – in places like Las Vegas. But, people do get hurt. Typically, what happens – and we’ve all seen it – the injured party doesn’t make an official statement until right before the fight. They wait in hope of the injury getting better, and when it’s apparent it won’t or can’t, they claim injury and step aside.”

  It made sense, but I had no idea what it had to do with me. If he felt it was important enough to tell me, I figured it must have been significant. So, as he continued to explain, I paid close attention.

  “The problem whe
n there’s an injury right before a fight is scheduled to be fought is that tickets have already been sold, venues have been rented, and money’s been spent. Cancelling the fight as a whole would cost millions.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  “Theresa Shunk sprained her ankle last week. The official statement will come from her camp tomorrow. She can’t do anything for eight weeks, so she can’t fight Shay Simpson next month. The problem? No one will fight Simpson on such short notice. There’s only three weeks to prepare, and fighters who had hoped to fight her in the future aren’t going to embarrass themselves by stepping in and being beat when they feel if they had time to train that they’d actually win. But the money’s been spent. The venue? The MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Already rented. The tickets? Sold out. Pay-per-view has taken in millions. Shay Simpson’s camp needs someone to fight her, and that someone needs to have a record that tells the fans that it will be a great fight.”

  He rested his arms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. He locked eyes with me. “That someone, Jaz, is you.”

  Shane Dekkar went from being a cool kid to being crazy in an instant. There was no way Shockwave Simpson’s management team would agree to have her fight some no-name girl from Omaha, Nebraska who moved to Texas to get away from her abusive father.

  “There’s no way they’d agree to let me fight her. I mean, it’s cool to think about and everything, but…”

  “They’re waiting on a call back,” he said.

  I sprung up from Ethan’s lap. “Who’s waiting?”

  “Simpson’s camp.”

  “Waiting for a call from who?”

  “From Kelsey.”

  “About what?”

  He laughed. “About you.”

  My throat tightened. I began to pace the floor. “You told them about me?”

  He nodded. “I asked Kelsey to. And he did.”

  I looked at Kelsey. He stared back at me stone-faced.

  I looked at Dekk. He grinned.

  I swallowed hard. “What’d they say? I mean. What’d you tell them? You just. You actually called them? Like ‘hey Shockwave, how’s it going?’ I mean you…What did you…you actually called them?”

  He raised his hands, turned his palms to face me, and took a deep breath. “Here’s what happened. Kelsey’s my trainer and my manager. We found out about your record. He called Tactical Promotions, who promotes my fights, and almost every other professional fighter’s fights. He gave them your stats and said you were fighting out of this gym. He told them you were going pro. He asked for them to find you a good fight for your first fight, considering your undefeated record as an amateur. In ten minutes, they called back with the news of Theresa Shunk’s injury. They said to expect a call from Simpson’s camp. Are you with me so far?”

  I nodded. It did make sense, but there was no way that Simpson’s camp would ever call back and agree to anything with me, I knew that much.

  “We’ve since had that call. Actually, quite a few of them. That’s why you’re here. Simpson wants to fight you, Jaz. In three weeks. Would you like to hear their offer?”

  I stopped pacing the floor and stared.

  “Twenty-three days,” Kelsey said flatly.

  I turned toward Ethan. He was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Offer for what?” I asked.

  “Tactical Promotion’s offer to have you fight.”

  “They’d actually pay me?”

  Everyone laughed. Everyone except me.

  “Yes. They’ll pay you. Comparatively speaking, I don’t think it’s quite up to standards, but it’s open for negotiation. It’s unheard of to be offered a flat fee in a title fight, but that’s what they’re offering.”

  I exchanged glances between Ripp, Ethan, and Dekk. “Title fight? She’s putting up the title?”

  He nodded. “Kelsey required it.”

  My heart went nuts. A grapefruit sized lump rose in my throat. “Hold on,” I said. “I need to talk to my managers.”

  Ethan was still sitting in the chair. I rested my hands on his knees and gave him a kiss. “I want to do this. It’s crazy. But I want it. What do you think?”

  “I want you to do it,” he said. “I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

  I turned to face Ripp. He had been surprisingly quiet. As I made eye contact with him, I realized why. He appeared to be as excited as I was, but was waiting for my response. His right knee bounced up and down as he waited for my answer.

  “You with me on this one, Boss?” I asked. “It’ll be a bitch to train for.”

  His nodded his head eagerly. “If you agree, I agree. But on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s me and Kelsey, together. We’re in it to win it,” he said.

  The thought of having the old man at my side made me happy. “Okay.”

  I turned around. “I’ll do it.”

  “You want to hear their offer?”

  “I uhhm. I don’t care. I mean, I don’t care what they’ll pay. Call ‘em back. Tell ‘em yes.”

  “I’m gonna tell ‘em to go fuck a goat,” Kelsey said. “There ain’t another woman on the planet that’d agree to fight Simpson in three weeks. And they damned sure can’t get anyone else that’s gonna keep the interest as good as someone with a 135-0 record.”

  “What’d they offer?” I asked.

  “One point five for a loss, and two point five for a win. Flat fees. That’s horseshit. Percentage of pay-per-view’s what’s standard. Sixty-forty split’s standard. That pretentious bitch. I’d like to…” he stood from his seat and clenched his fists. “I say we tell her to get real with her offer or get someone else.”

  “What do you mean, point this and point that? What’s that mean for me?”

  Everyone had another laugh. And, once again, it was everyone except me.

  “One point five million dollars, Spaz. American money,” Kelsey said. “And two point five million of you beat her.”

  I stopped pacing the floor and stumbled toward Ethan, who was now standing. I pointed to our chair. “I need to sit down.”

  But I didn’t.

  I threw up instead.

  THIRTY

  Jaz

  Day eighty-five.

  In a successful training regimen, sleeping is believed to be as important as exercise and eating. Ethan had been staying over regularly since our talk, and having him at my side in the morning made it difficult to get out of bed.

  I was convinced sleeping with Ethan had become an important part of my training.

  “Isn’t life interesting?” he asked.

  I rolled to my side and flopped my arm across his bare chest. “What do you mean?”

  “Two and a half months ago, I didn’t even know you. Now? You’re fighting for a title fight, and Ripp agreed to train me. I just…” He turned his head to the side and kissed me. “I can’t imagine life without you.”

  I got lost on his blue eyes for a moment, and then began to admire his messy hair. I had grown to love how it was never combed, but was always perfect a perfect mess. “I can’t imagine life without you, either. It’s been two and a half months? Already?”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  I slipped my hand over his bicep and pulled him close. “Yeah.”

  “It’ll be awesome when Ripp can start. I can’t wait.”

  I laid my head against his chest. “I’m sorry it won’t be until after my fight.”

  His hands slid along my bare back and came to rest at my waist. “Right now, training you is more important. I’ve been this long with my trainer, a few more weeks won’t hurt anything.”

  “Your next fight’s when, next week?”

  “Yeah, four days. Hopefully my last with Brockman.”

  The sound of his voice resonated through his chest and against my ear. There wasn’t anything especially sensual about it, but for whatever reason, I found feeling the sound of his voice as he spoke to be a turn-on.

  I pressed m
y ear firmly to his chest. “Say something else.”

  “What?”

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to meet my parents.”

  I craned my neck, but kept my ear flat to his chest. “Really?”

  “Uh huh. I think it’s overdue. Are you okay with that?”

  I liked the thought of meeting them. It was yet another step in the right direction as far as our relationship was concerned. Further proof that Ethan was in my life for a reason.

  “I’d like that.”

  I laid still for a moment and listened to his heartbeat. I found it to be comforting, and the predictable pattern soon lulled me into a state of conscious slumber. I remained there for some time, thinking about having in-laws being a permanent part of my life.

  I worried for a fleeting moment how they might accept me, and then decided that I had nothing to be ashamed of. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  “I know they’ll like you.”

  I grinned at the thought. “I love you.”

  I reached between his legs and began to stroke him slowly and softly. “I love you, too.”

  Within a few strokes, he was firm in my hand. Without speaking, I tossed my leg over his waist, situated myself, and guided him into my wetness.

  Seeing his handsome face and feeling his girth inside if me at the same time was too much. I closed my eyes.

  Giving Ethan my heart allowed me to exhale, which was something I had waited a lifetime to do. Immediately, I began to feel an entirely different level of satisfaction when we were together. Now, seated deep inside of me, an entire host of new feelings sat poised and ready to be released.

  With each stroke of his cock, a few of them managed to escape.

  They fluttered about inside of me. I buried my fingernails into his muscular chest, arched my back, and opened my eyes.

  I looked down. He gazed back at me, his eyes filled with love.

  Seeing his level of satisfaction caused a few of them to free themselves, riding on the backs of my pleasure filled moans.

  Methodically, I worked my hips back and forth, taking time to make certain I used each and every inch of his length to my satisfaction. His massive girth stretched me to my limit each time we made love, and it was that combination of pleasure and pain that satisfied the sexual beast within me.