He took a ragged breath.
“I swear, Mia Werber is never ever going to get in our way again.”
Chapter Forty Six
Brandon
Two days later, Brandon was proven wrong.
It was mid-afternoon, and Ava was just packing up to go and collect Harley from the bus. Brandon and Rob were sparring in the studio, and for once it looked like Brandon was breaking even.
Then the chime sounded as the front door of the karate center swung open.
Ava looked up from the reception desk at a man she’d never seen before – a rotund, balding fellow in a golf shirt.
“Hey. Brandon around?” He asked.
In typical Italian style, Ava turned towards the studio window and screamed, “Braaaaaan!” so loudly that the glass vibrated.
A moment later, wiping his face with a towel, Brandon came staggering in.
“Yo! Mr. Beninetti!” Brandon offered the new arrival his hand. “Ava,” he introduced her. “This is Mr. Beninetti – the landlord.”
They shook hands, but the look on Beninetti’s face did not fill Ava with much confidence.
“We’re all good for next month,” Brandon told his landlord confidently. “I’m signed up for a fight? Did you hear?”
If Beninetti had heard, he didn’t acknowledge it.
“Brandon, kid,” the landlord said sternly. “We’ve got a problem.”
Brandon’s smile faded.
* * *
Ava called Clark, and her husband reluctantly agreed to pick Harley up. That gave her enough time to follow Brandon and Mr. Beninetti into the office, and learn what this issue was.
“I don’t understand,” Brandon was saying, as he offered Beninetti a chair.
The big karate instructor took his place in the creaking leather chair behind the desk.
“I’m going to be paid up by the end of next month,” Brandon promised. “Just like we agreed.” He leaned forward, and added, “I’ve got the check coming in from that fight – and Ava here,” he nodded towards her, “has recruited enough students to put us back in the black. I’m making money now!”
“Yeah,” Beninetti sighed. “I wish it was that simple, kid.”
He ran a hand through his thinning black hair. “Listen, I got a call from my accountant this morning, and it wasn’t good.”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed.
“Look, when you took over this place,” Beninetti continued, “I just let you carry on with the old owner’s lease, right? You pay the rent and utilities, and we were all good.”
“And I know I’m behind,” Brandon injected, “but as I told you – I’ll be good by the end of next month.”
“Will you?”
“I get a five grand check for just showing up at the fight,” Brandon explained. “Shit, I’ll sign that straight over to you. That’ll buy me at least another month, right?”
“It would have done,” Beninetti warned. “But then I got this.” He opened up his folder, and passed Brandon a letter.
Ava shuffled behind Brandon, and read it over his shoulder.
Dear Mr. Beninetti,
In review of your accounts, we have found that the leaseholder of BB Martial Arts Center has failed to provide the obligatory security deposit and sum covering ‘last month’s rent.’
To avoid a penalty, this amount will need to be paid with the next rental payment, due at the end of the month. Otherwise you will need to commence eviction proceedings.
“Y-you can’t do that,” Brandon stammered.
“That’s what I figured,” Beninetti shrugged. “I figured the previous owners paid the deposit and the last month’s rent, and they never collected it from me before they… Well, y‘know.”
“Y’know” was code for getting led away in handcuffs.
“I still got that money sitting in my bank account,” Beninetti shrugged. “As far as I was concerned, we were square.”
But then he pointed at the note.
“’Til I got this, of course.”
Brandon read the note again. Unfortunately, it still said exactly the same thing as it did the first time.
“S-so… What does it mean?”
“It means, kid,” Beninetti shrugged, “that you’ve got to add a security deposit and last month’s rent to your payment next month – or you’re outtahere.”
“H-how much are we talking?”
“With the money you already owe? Eleven grand.”
Brandon’s face went pale.
“Kid, I wish I didn’t have to take it from you – but I do,” Beninetti warned. “You saw the letter. They’re going to hit me with a penalty if I don’t.” He shrugged. “If you can’t come up with the money, you’re out.”
Brandon stared at the letter for what must have been thirty silent seconds.
Finally, his voice a murmur, he breathed, “Why? Why now?” He looked up at Mr. Beninetti. “Why did this suddenly come up now, when I was finally getting ahead?”
“I dunno,” Beninetti shrugged. “Just back luck, I guess.” He shook his head. “If it makes you feel any better, I feel real bad about it.”
Ava broke the subsequent silence.
“It’s not bad luck,” she breathed.
Beninetti and Brandon looked up at her questioningly.
“Luck had nothing to do with this,” she explained, holding the letter up and pointing at the letterhead.
M. R. Werber & Co.
Certified Public Accountants
“Your landlord’s accountant,” Ava explained, “is Mia’s husband.”
Chapter Forty Seven
Brandon
“What the fuck, Mia?”
Brandon was out in the parking lot, practically screaming into his cell phone.
“Aww, honey,” Mia purred venomously down the phone. “Don’t blame me. It’s all by the books.” She giggled. “Bet you didn’t know that Mike was your landlord’s accountant.”
Brandon slumped against the wall.
“Why would you do this, Mia? I mean, you have every right to be pissed at me… But this is my business.”
“Honey, you were going to lose that business one way or another.” She sighed. “Look, I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to protect you.” But then she snarled. “But you humiliated me.”
“I humiliated you?”
“I told you how I felt about the fighting, and you ignored me. You told me you loved me, and then you hooked up with that big-titted Italian whore.”
“Ava is not a whore.”
Mia snarled, “She’s not the problem – you are. And your problem, Brandon, is that you do half your thinking with your dick.”
She sniffed haughtily. “It’s about time you learned the consequences of that – and maybe seeing your karate school shut down will be the lesson you need.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Goodbye, Brandon. And good luck.”
And then she hung up.
Brandon stood, slumped against the wall, trembling.
He thought about what a contrast the two women in his life were. Ava - he’d acted like as ass to, and taken for granted, and she’d still stuck with him despite it all.
But Mia? He’d spent a year utterly devoted to her – he’d told her he loved her. And she’d not just cast him aside, but was actively trying to ruin his life.
Brandon squeezed shut his eyes.
Wow, he sure did have shitty taste in women.
And the reminder of that was Ava – the woman he’d taken for granted – poking her head out of the karate center door and asking, “Is everything okay?”
With a deep sigh, Brandon turned to her.
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t think anything’s okay at all.”
Chapter Forty Eight
Ava
“This doesn’t seem that complicated,” said Clark, bouncing Lex up and down on his knee. “All you have to do is win the fight.”
They were sitting in the living room of Ava and Clark’s townhouse – Rob,
Brandon and the kids. Clark had listened to the story – and was trying to help.
“So you get five grand for turning up,” Ava’s red-faced husband mused, “and another ten if you win.” He did some calculations in his head. “If you defer the tax on it, you could easily net eleven grand from that.”
Rob and Brandon looked at each other, and then Rob gently murmured, “Winning isn’t as easy as all that.”
“Oh, come on,” Clark rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen him spar. Brandon’s good.” He bounced Lex up and down on his knee. “He could take that British guy… What’s his name again.”
“James MacDonald,” Brandon answered. “And watch this.”
They’d tuned Clark’s gigantic flatscreen to YouTube, and Brandon had loaded up a compilation of some of James MacDonald’s recent fights.
With a rock soundtrack playing, they watched the British Bulldog unleash his ferocity on screen.
“Holy shit,” Clark breathed.
“Maaaan,” Rob whistled.
“Fuuuuck,” Brandon gasped.
It’s sometimes difficult to truly appreciate the majesty of a fighter over the course of three or five rounds. With commercial breaks, and a lot of circling and posturing, the whole thing seems drawn out.
But when you have a compilation of a fighter’s hardest hits and most brutal take-downs, one after the other, all compressed into a thirty-second show reel, it serves as a pretty striking lesson in how effective one man can be in the octagon.
And James MacDonald was extremely effective.
A tall, lean Scotsman with red-blond hair and a movie star’s good looks, James MacDonald was a monster in the cage.
The compilation video covered all of his recent victories – four by unanimous judge’s decision, two by submission and three by total knock out. It didn’t bode well – he was a surprisingly well-balanced fighter for somebody so tall, and with such a long reach.
“He definitely favors boxing, though,” Rob mused, watching the video. “He’s sharp, and precise.”
Brandon had always preferred wrestling, and was studying MacDonald’s take-downs carefully. He didn’t like what he saw. He was clearly bigger, and stronger than the Scotsman; but like with everything else he did, MacDonald wrestled with precision, and strategy.
“If you’re going to win this,” Rob mused, mirroring Brandon’s thoughts, “and that’s a big, probably-never-gonna-happen if, it’s going to be by submission.”
“He’s one of the best boxers in the league and…” Rob glanced at Brandon apologetically. “Well, you’re not, bud.”
That stung Brandon’s ego a little, but he let it go.
He knew Rob was telling the truth. Brandon was certified in Krav Maga and a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and with his size and strength wrestling was always going to be his strongest asset in the octagon.
But was he good enough to beat the British Bulldog?
They watched the video a couple more times, until it was time for the kids to go to bed.
“I’m going to go and crash,” Brandon looked at Ava as he said it, as if reassuring her he wasn’t going to get into any more trouble. “I have 5am class.”
“And I’ll put the kids to bed,” Clark gave Brandon a handshake, and led Lex and Harley upstairs.
Rob helped Ava into the kitchen with the empty plates and glasses from their impromptu dinner.
“I’m going to get out of here in a minute too,” Rob grinned, as he helped her load the dishwasher. “And I was wondering…”
Ava looked up, into the twinkling blue eyes of her ex-boyfriend.
“…you want to come?” He asked her.
Ava blinked.
With a guilty look behind him – up the stairs to where Clark was reading Lex and Harley a bedtime story – Rob leaned in closer and said, “C’mon. Don’t say you hadn’t thought about it.”
Ava straightened up.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Rob leaned in, and curled his hands around Ava’s waist.
“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me all this week,” he purred. “And I feel it too.” He bent his head, and pressed his lips against Ava’s. “You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”
Ava pushed Rob back.
“Jesus,” she growled. “What is it with you guys?”
Rob cocked his head on one side. “I don’t understand.”
Ava laughed bitterly.
Reaching out, she stroked her ex-boyfriend’s beefy arm and said, “Robbie… I haven’t been looking at you ‘like that’ all week. I’ve been laughing at that fake tan of yours.”
“Fucking ouch,” Rob breathed.
Ava shook her head, “It’s not going to happen.”
Rob flinched, as if he’d just taken an invisible hit. But within seconds he smiled and shrugged good-naturedly.
“Okay,” he nodded. “That’s cool.” He straightened up, and reached for his car keys from the kitchen counter. “I just figured…”
As he was heading for the door, Ava reached over and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it, and Rob looked down at her with a flash of optimism in his eyes.
“Robbie,” Ava breathed. “I’m married…” And when the hypocrisy of that statement hit her, she added, “And my life’s been really fucking complicated recently.”
“It’s okay,” Rob nodded. “I get it.” He squeezed her hand. “But just know that I still think you’re beautiful, and amazing.” He snorted. “What you’re doing for this Brandon kid?” Rob patted her hand. “It’s beautiful.”
Ava sighed.
“Thank you, Robbie.”
Her ex-boyfriend grinned, and winked at her. And then, like nothing had happened, he swaggered out into the night and woke the neighbors by cranking the oversized motor of his gleaming Trans Am.
Ava watched his drive off, and realized her hands were trembling.
Chapter Forty Nine
Brandon
“So we’ve got to work fast,” Rob warned Brandon, as they strapped on gloves for training the following day.
“Your fight’s next week, and if you want a realistic chance of winning, we’re going to have to focus on one thing, and one thing only.”
Rob punched his fist into his palm.
“Wrestling.”
Fortunately, most MMA fans agreed that Rob ‘Thor’ Staavig remained one of the best wrestlers in the octagon. Brandon couldn’t have had a better mentor.
As they stepped onto the vinyl mats in the studio, Rob narrowed his eyes and barked instructions at Brandon.
“Your stance is all wrong,” he warned. “MacDonald’s going to try and lure you into boxing, so don’t let him. Bend your knees. Keep your feet apart. Make him come to you.”
Brandon knew all this – he was a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, after all. But Rob’s advice was more about strategy than technique; and it made sense.
“Good,” satisfied with Brandon’s ape-like stance – which kept his center of gravity low, and his powerful legs coiled like springs. “Now let’s focus on tactics.”
Rob readied himself to wrestle.
“So keep things simple,” the blond fighter advised. “MacDonald’s precise, and strategic. You’re strong and experienced. Make him react to you – don’t let him draw you out.”
“First step,” Rob barked, “is to take that British bastard down.”
Brandon grinned. That he could do.
“Stick to the basics,” Rob warned. “Remember what Bruce Lee said, I fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times.”
Before those words had even sunk in, Brandon pounced on Rob, and tried to bring him to the mats with a single leg takedown.
It was a basic move, Brandon knew, but one of the keystones of wrestling. Snagging the opponent’s lead leg, and then swinging around at an angle, allowed the wrestler to use their weight to bring their opponent off balance.
Rob was quick, and managed to wriggle out of Brandon’s first attempt at taking him down – but instead of giving up, Brandon followed the single leg takedown with a much more brutal maneuver: He grabbed both legs, and pulled.
Rob went down, instantly.
“Good,” the Norwegian grunted, as he and Brandon wrestled on the mats. “Now pin me.”
The fact that Rob was able to keep talking through Brandon’s moves didn’t bode well – and within seconds, Rob had crawled out from Brandon’s grip and was scrabbling back onto his feet on the mats.
“You can’t afford to miss an opportunity like that, bud,” Rob warned. “I wriggled free. The Bulldog’s going to ground and pound you.”
Brandon snorted.
“That sounds like a gay porn.”
“Don’t joke,” Rob warned. “That’s how you’re going to be paying your rent if you don’t win this fight.”
“Well then,” Brandon clambered to his feet, and dusted himself off. “Let’s try that again.”
Chapter Fifty
Ava
Ava watched them wrestle through the window.
Brandon was getting better. Rob was out of practice, and had never fought at the level of James MacDonald, but he was still pretty brutal in a bout, and up until this point had never let Brandon get the better of him.
But these last couple of days? Brandon had come close.
Maybe he was in with a chance next week.
With a sigh, she turned and headed back to the reception desk, ready to make more calls. So far this week, she’d filled up a second night of Krav Maga classes with guys eager to learn from this surprise addition to the MMA roster – and there was a whole bus load of kids coming in that weekend to try the Saturday morning white belt classes.
Before she’d come on board, Brandon had been struggling to pay the rent. Now, he was going to have to think about hiring more instructors.
Shuffling up a pile of notes, Ava stepped into Brandon’s office and filed them quietly. Then, as she left, she looked out over what had once been the wreckage of Brandon’s desk.
Bruiser: A Lonely Housewife Embarks on a Passionate Affair with an Alpha Male MMA Fighter Page 12