by Amity Cross
There was a difference between beating a man within an inch of becoming a vegetable and stepping over the line into murder. I never asked him… I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat and pushed to my feet.
Living with a terminally ill mother after Dad left us was bad. It was fucking terrible, but I wasn’t old enough to fully understand. My age had shielded the full extent of my heartache, but not this time. I understood all too well and it wasn’t a pretty picture. Ash had abandoned me. He’d left with hardly an explanation and had never come back.
I lay in my bed upstairs night after night, replaying the scene over and over, trying to understand. He went to prison protecting someone else from him. Someone else. He said he didn’t love me. He was…there’d been someone else. Then what was I? Discardable?
“Ren?”
I glanced up in surprise as Josie appeared around the corner. Didn’t she have work? When she saw me sitting there like an idiot, she glanced back over her shoulder and came to sit with me.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking totally out of place in the change room in her fancy suit and heels.
“Just had a fight with Monica.” I shrugged. “It’s been coming for a few days now.”
“Do I need to crack her skull?”
I shook my head. “I’ve got her under my thumb; she just needs to back off.”
“You know you can talk to me Ren.”
“I know.”
I’d never told anyone the truth about that night; you know the one where I turned up on Josie’s doorstep in a hysterical mess. I hadn’t told and she hadn’t asked. She’d been a true friend all this time and had never asked questions. She knew I’d tell her when I was ready, but I wasn’t sure I would ever be truly okay with it. If the truth came out, I’d be implicated in a possible crime and so would she. I couldn’t let that happen, so I zipped my lips closed and threw away the key.
“I quit my soul sucking corporate job today,” she declared.
“What?” I asked, glad for a change of pace.
“Your dad asked me to come on full time to do PR for the Twins and Beat.”
“Shit, so you’re not just mine anymore?” I asked with a small smile.
Josie had come on as my PR manager a month ago and since then I’d been busy with photo shoots and interviews for a whole slew of magazines and websites. They said I was the next big thing to hit the pro MMA circuit and I wasn’t sure how to handle that. I just had an affinity with fighting; it wasn’t like I was some kind of prodigy or anything. Training and keeping busy kept my mind off of things. The more I thought about other stuff, the sooner I’d forget my heartache. That was the idea, anyway.
“I’m spreading the love Ren,” she declared. “Besides, I get to hang around hot male fighters all day. I couldn’t get out of that shithole of an office any faster.” She gave me a suggestive wink.
I managed to crack a smile and she threw her arms around me. It sure was going to be a lot easier to cope with Josie around.
“It’s going to be great,” she said. “Just you wait.”
“I hope so,” I murmured.
I really did because I wasn’t sure what else I had to look forward to.
I might’ve been a handful of points away from qualifying for the pro league, but one thing I hadn’t given up was The Underground.
I was afraid to go back for weeks after all that shit went down with Ash and Hammer. Not until the Championship was over and a new one had begun. I’d walked into the converted warehouse to a cool greeting. Not because they hated me, they were frosty because they were afraid of me.
Fighters I’d once spoken to with easy banter avoided me; people who’d spoken to me so they could get closer to Ash gave me the cold shoulder. Even the bookies looked at me differently. That was until I started winning and I fucking won a lot.
I didn’t need the money, what with me fighting alongside the Twins; Beat was more than fine financially. Even without Ash’s money, the studio was fine. My bank balance started inflating and earning interest and if I wanted to, I could invest or buy my own place…but I didn’t want any of it.
I guess Ash and I had something in common. We didn’t care about the money. Fighting was more than fame and glory. It was a way to sate the beast within. I never understood his, but mine? Ash awoke my beast and left me with the carnage of dealing with it and as fucked up as it sounded; I needed The Underground to cope.
I wasn’t alone in not knowing what the fuck was going on where Ash and Hammer had gotten to. When it came time to fight the Championship bout, neither man had shown, so it was up to Hamish, aka The Goblin and a mean son of a bitch named The Crowbar.
Hamish had won and was now the new golden boy of The Underground.
Now that the new season had started, I went three nights a week and fought as many bouts as they would put me down for. If there was an over, I was the first to volunteer.
Call it bloodlust, call it punishment, but the only time I felt alive was when I was in that cage, pounding my fists into my opponent.
Isolation and The Underground went hand in hand and I was a partner to them both.
I fought so I could feel something other than heartache.
I fought so I didn’t feel alone.
What a crock of fucking shit.
4
Ren
I blinked hard as several flashbulbs popped, lighting up the set in the corner of Beat.
A guy ran around with a light meter in his hand checking numbers and tilting fancy reflectors. Beat had been morphed into a photography studio for the afternoon and if it wasn’t for Josie, I would’ve cracked the shits within the first five minutes and walked.
Sponsorships and endorsements required promotional work on our behalf, but today was about us and Beat. Three fighters from the same studio making it big in the professional circuit was big news apparently. And with one of them being a woman, the media was lapping it up like it couldn’t get enough.
Dad was rubbing his hands together in glee, of course. The Golden Age of Beat was back and it wasn’t because of the beast, Ash Fuller, it was because of his long lost daughter. His abandoned daughter. I had the Twins, Seth and Josie, but it wasn’t quite the same. Dad was the only real family I had left and a small fucked up part of me wanted to please him. I had nothing else to do.
Grimacing as I watched Dean and Lincoln primping for the cameras, I shuffled nervously on the spot. Monica fluffed around like a bad smell, talking to the photographer and the makeup artists and Josie was discussing whatever it was she did with the journalist from the magazine.
Talk about a fish out of water. I felt like a bloody alien in my own home.
They’d dressed me and the Twins in the sponsor’s clothing and wrapped our hands like we were at a bout, instructing us that they wanted some action shots. The boys took to all of this like it was the most natural thing in the world and I was at least a little jealous…okay, so I was a lot jealous.
I stared at my reflection in the mirrors and couldn’t quite recognize myself. Josie appeared beside me as if she sensed my flight mode was activating and placed her hand on my shoulder.
“It’s all about image Ren,” she said. “You’re stunning, you know that? These photos are going to be amazing.”
I was finding out the hard way that I was allergic to the spotlight. A lifetime of obscurity had me scurrying for the shadows like an insect. The spotlight hurt my eyes, blinding all my senses.
“Ren?”
I glanced up at Josie. “Yeah?”
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” she asked, kneeling beside me.
“I want to fight,” I replied a little uncertainly.
“I know. You’ve got me to deal with this stuff, right? The occasional photo and interview is all you have to worry about. You just keep your thoughts on your training.”
Is this what success felt like? Overwhelming pressure to perform? Everyone was so sure I would qualify, but I found my care factor at subze
ro temperatures. I didn’t fight for fame and glory…I fought to stay numb and I fought to keep my anger at bay. What would these so called industry professionals say if I told them that?
I sighed as the makeup artist propped in front of me and began dabbing something on my face.
“Oh, stop sighing,” Josie said. I knew she was into all of this, I mean she was the epitome of a fashionista, but it wasn’t my scene. I wore makeup, but only on special occasions. Apparently I’d been blessed with an even complexion.
I grudgingly let the makeup artist do her thing, sitting rigidly in the chair while the Twins fluffed around in front of the camera being all macho. Josie floated towards them like a moth to a flame, or a horny PR manger to a set of hunky twins, and I was left alone.
“Hi Mum.”
Despite the alarms going off in my brain, I glanced up and saw Monica hugging an older woman. A woman who looked a lot like her.
Realizing the makeup artist had finished doing her thing, I slid out of the chair and tried to hide, but I wasn’t quick enough.
“Renee?”
I sighed heavily and glanced over my shoulder. It couldn’t be anyone else and I felt the urge to vomit rising. Sharon Miller had finally deigned to make an appearance after a year of absence. I owed my dad’s wife nothing, but the fact that she was here meant she wanted something from me. When it came to the new franchise, it couldn’t be anything good. Past experience had proved that as a fact.
“Ren,” I said, looking Sharon up and down. “Nobody calls me Renee. Not even people I don’t like.”
She grimaced. “I’m—”
“I know who you are and I’m not interested. I can have a pretty good guess what your opinion of me is.” She wished I didn’t exist, that’s what her opinion was.
“I should’ve come here a long time ago,” she said.
“I don’t really want to see the woman my dad left my sick mum for.”
“Look...I...” Sharon Miller was lost for words and if I wasn’t in a downward spiral, I would’ve been happy about that, but right now I was just annoyed.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Your dad’s been happier since you’ve started training with him,” she said, just coming out with it. “He’s been unhappy for a long time.”
I snorted. What, was she afraid he’d leave her too?
“Have you ever been in love Ren?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Because that’s what happened with your Dad. I didn’t know your mother had cancer. Not until a few years after he left her. We never met...” She hesitated. “I didn’t know he already had a daughter when I fell pregnant. I am sorry for what happened—”
“But you were in love with him,” I interrupted. “Like that’s an excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. An explanation maybe. People do crazy things when they’re in love.”
Like beating a guy half to death because they looked at me the wrong way? Like murder? Ash was a beast. If that was his way of showing how he felt, then it was a bloody lousy way of doing it. Crazy in love? Unlikely.
Turning to Sharon, I snapped, “You ruined our lives.”
“I can’t change the past, but I can do something about the future.”
I didn’t want their future. I didn’t want to play house with a bunch of backstabbing, jealous bitches. I didn’t want to live under the same roof as Monica Miller and her fancy upper class mother.
“I’ve come to accept Dad as being my father and coach, but I will never see you or your daughter as family. I don’t want to be any part of it.”
Sharon fidgeted, her feelings obviously hurt. Well, as far as I was concerned, she didn’t have the right.
“You’re welcome to come stay with us,” she said after a moment. “You don’t have to stay here anymore.”
“No thanks.”
“Ren...”
“I like it at Beat.” Because I did. Living at Beat was no longer something I felt ashamed of. Sure, everywhere I looked something reminded me of Ash, but this place was mine long before it was ours.
“Look,” I said, trying to remain diplomatic. “I appreciate that you tried, but I’m just not interested.”
Sharon grimaced, but didn’t say anything. There was no way she could’ve thought that coming in here and saying a few things about love would change my mind about her. It was the first time I’d laid eyes on the woman and I could already see where Monica got her everything from. No. Just…no.
Turning, I stalked off, but not before Josie caught my arm.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “You’re almost up.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “I was hoping to make a clean getaway.”
Josie glanced over my shoulder. “Who was that?”
“The woman my Dad ditched my Mum for.”
Josie’s jaw dropped. “That’s Monica’s uppity mother? What did she want?”
I shrugged. “She was being nice and apologetic, which could only mean she has an ulterior motive. Dad and I get along now. ‘Along’ enough that I don’t hate him anymore.”
“Maybe she feels threatened?”
“Maybe.”
Or maybe she felt bad about her lack of acknowledgement. All I knew was the fact that I didn’t want it. I wanted a life with Ash, but that wasn’t an option anymore. I couldn’t have a future with somebody who wasn’t there.
My mum wanted me to have a family, but the reality was something much different. As I stepped onto the makeshift set with the Twins, I realized I had another kind of family. One that wasn’t blood related, one that didn’t share DNA or anything biological. We shared our love of fighting. My family was Josie, Seth and the Twins.
In a way, I’d followed my mum’s last wish down to the letter. I hoped I’d made her proud.
The photographer started snapping shots of us together as the reporter came forward and started asking for some different poses. The Twins were lapping it up and were constantly trying to pinch me to get me to crack a smile. Josie just kept giving me the thumbs up when I glanced at her in a blind panic.
What a family to wake up to.
5
Ren
I didn’t know how to cope with my feelings, so I beat them out.
The Underground was pumping tonight. Mid-season was the time where the weak were weeded out and things started to get good. Bouts suddenly became a lot more challenging as more skilled fighters were put up against one another.
There were new fighters and old and some from last season that hadn’t returned at all. I’d missed the first few weeks but I’d more than made up for it in the points stakes. If I wanted to win this thing, I had the skills to get to the Championship bout. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible.
I was sitting in the stands, minding my own business watching the men go at it, when I felt a bulky form sit next to me. With a scowl I glanced up, ready to give the guy a mouthful, but I ate my words when I saw it was Dean.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he replied.
He was dressed in a pair of sweats and hoodie, like he’d come straight from Beat. I was actually starting to believe that he didn’t own any other clothing. Dean and this place…well, they didn’t mix. He was too good for this stink hole.
I frowned. “How did you even know it was here?”
“Wasn’t hard.” He glanced around the crowd, the expression on his face making his opinion glaringly obvious.
“What do you want Dean?” I asked, my patience already wearing thin.
“What I want is for you to quit fighting.” He winced as a guy in the cage got pounded in the face with a fist. “Shit, I’m not afraid of a fight, but this is brutal.”
“You’re in an Ultimate Fighting Championship,” I drawled. “You’re scared of a little blood?”
“It’s more than that Ren,” he argued. “There’s rules. Here,” he gestured wildly with his hands, “there are
no fucking rules.”
“That’s the point.” Of course there wasn’t. It wasn’t exciting enough being illegal; it had to be brutal as well.
“I can’t believe you get in there and risk yourself like that. Isn’t there a coherent thought in your head?”
“Ugh, you’re worse than Ash,” I spat.
“What do you mean? I thought he was the one that got you into this thing. I still want to slam him one for this you know.”
“He never wanted me to compete,” I shot back. “He fought me every step of the way. I was the one who wanted to fight.”
Dean cocked his head to the side, obviously surprised. “Why Ren? Why would you do this when you’ve got your shot at pro?”
I shook my head, not knowing how to explain it. He’d think I was crazy. Maybe that was my problem. I was slipping into crazy town, population me.
A referee tapped me on the shoulder. “Reign, you’re up after this one.” I nodded as he passed.
“Reign?” Dean asked, his lip curling.
“They call me Reign of Terror.”
He snorted trying to stifle a laugh. “You’re fucking joking right?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“This place is like a fucking circus of pain. You’re coming with me. Right now.”
He went to grab my arm, but I twisted out of his way, my anger levels boiling to the top. “You’re not my father Dean.”
“Then maybe I should go get him,” he retorted. “He needs to talk some sense into you. You could get seriously hurt, you know. You could fuck up everything with the AUFC. If they got wind of this—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “I fucking know.”
He sighed, glancing away. “Is this what you want Ren?”
I stood sharply, totally over the conversation. I wasn’t nearly done with my downward spiral into numbness…oblivion.
“I have a fight to get ready for,” I declared and stalked off through the crowd, leaving Dean behind.