by M. N. Forgy
I drop to the floor, straddling her body. My heart racing with so much adrenaline I feel high. I slam my fists and elbows into her face, not letting up. My fists flying, and popping her anywhere I see skin.
She stops resisting but I don’t quit laying into her. I can’t, not until the referee calls it.
Blood stains my fingers as I continue to strike. Pain driving me towards victory. The crowd screams, and the referee grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me off her.
Kiki rolls back and forth covering her face, and her coach and a medic enter the ring and assess her injuries.
Camden races into the ring and picks me up over his shoulder, and slaps my ass!
“You fucking did it!!”
Setting me down on both feet, I watch as Kiki’s team help her up. She’s looks a mess. Her face is purple and bloody, and the white of her eyes have popped blood vessels everywhere.
We’re both ushered to the middle of the ring and the referee grabs my arm and raises it.
“Winner by knock out, Tatum ‘HellCat’ Davis!” The crowd screams in excitement, their earlier boos a lost whisper.
Camden grabs my face with both hands and kisses me hard in front of everyone. I didn’t think the audience could get any louder, but they do. Cameras flash from all over and in that moment I can say that I am the happiest, luckiest woman in the world.
Releasing my lips from his, I open my eyes, and the world sets back into place.
A tap on my shoulder catches my attention and I turn finding a bloody faced Kiki.
“Good fight Kiki.”
Her brows narrow, her lips pursed.
“You got lucky! I want a rematch, and when I do I’ll wipe the octagon with you,” she threatens.
“Anytime.” I smile, saluting her out of the ring.
My vision goes upside down, as Camden throws me over his shoulder and hauls me off the stage. The crowd cheers my name. My name!
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried to.
Once behind stage there’s cameras and random people standing by my locker room. Camden sets me down, gripping my hand tightly.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Stay close.” He weaves us through the crowd, people yelling for me to sign this, or asking me questions on how I became an overnight success.
Once inside the locker room Camden turns and locks the doors. He swipes his hands through his hair, and eyes me wildly.
“You did it. You fucking did it.” He smiles big. “I’ll admit you had me worried for a minute there.” He steps forward and cups my face, focusing on my eyebrow. “We should get that cleaned up and bandaged.”
A knock sounds at the door, and Camden strides toward it, opening it a crack before widening.
“I knew you had it in you,” Debs smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I can’t help but roll my eyes as she starts to unwrap my hands.
“I’m going to go get the car and make sure it’s clear. Don’t let anyone in here Debs,” Camden informs, pointing sternly at her.
She doesn’t respond as she continues to take the wrap off my hands.
Silence fills the locker room, and I wonder if I should address what happened before the fight. A light rhythmic knock sounds at the door, and Debs nearly breaks her neck trying to get up.
“Camden said not to let anyone in,” I remind her.
“You will want to talk to this person Tate.” She looks over her shoulder, an unreadable look on her face as she opens the door.
The hall is miraculously cleared, and a tall clean cut woman steps in. She’s wearing a black dress with killer heels, her hair as perfect as her face.
“Who are you?” I scrunch my face in question.
She smiles a bleached grin, and perfectly manicured brow arching. “I’m Silvia Machen, the CEO of MFC, and I have a proposition for you Tate.”
My gaze flicks to Debs, and she nods approvingly.
“Um, okay,” I mutter unsure.
“I’m in charge of potential fighters in the MFC, bringing them the best of the fighters around the world,” Silvia informs, pacing in front of the door. My heart skips a beat, thinking she wants me to fight for the MFC.
“You are familiar with the MFC right?”
“Of course, I watch most of their fights since I was a kid.”
She stops, a villainous smile crossing her face.
“What if I told you, that those fights you watch on your television isn’t where the excitement breeds from, that it’s not the most profitable fight there is?”
“I’d say I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I chuckle. The conversation feeling out of sorts.
“I’m saying I have an underground octagon—”
“Underground?” I interrupt.
“It is black-market if you have to put a label on it. High profile celebrities and politicians seek entertainment and are often judged for it, but my underground gives them that forbidden desire without the public eye criticizing them, and in return for disclosure they pay a hefty price. This bringing my fighters a bigger payout than the MFC you see on TV can offer.” Her calculated voice echoes through the room as she stops in front of me, her hands clasped in front of her. Money, the root of all evil, everyone needs it. I could use it to get my dad out of debt, for myself as I set forth my fighting career.
“I’d say I’m listening,” I state, the words leaving my mouth cause goosebumps to race along my arms.
She cups my shoulders, and I look her in the eye.
“I want you to fight in my underground ring. If you accept I will pay you fifty thousand for just participating, and another million if you win.” I open my mouth to call bullshit but she continues speaking, halting the sentence sitting on my lips. “If you win, I will set up a contract for you to fight for the MFC. You will become a professional fighter Tate, just like you’ve always wanted.” She smiles, standing up straight. This seems too good to be true. Money, fame, to be at the top so quickly just for a black market fight.
“What is the catch?” I raise a brow and she laughs.
“She’s a smart girl.” Silvia glances at Debs, who is eating every word Silvia is spewing. “There is some fine print.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, you won’t know who your opponent is, and the rules of the cage are different from the ones ran by the sports committee in the MFC. There are no rounds, no times outs, and you’ll go until someone is knocked out or taps out.”
I nod, letting the info set in.
“We can dwell on semantics after you accept. However, there is one thing I need to make very clear.”
“What is that?”
“Nobody can know about The Underground, or this offer. Do. You. Under. Stand?” Her words are sharp, grabbing my attention from trying to process everything to focus on her. “The high profiles that attend these underground fights will not take lightly that of someone trying to take their secured entertainment away.”
I swallow, feeling that threat to my toes.
Silvia gives me a tight lipped smile and turns on her heel.
“Debs, you have twenty-four hours to give me a yes or no on the deal. I hope you make the right decision, Tate.” Silvia leaves as smoothly as she came.
“Take it, don’t overthink it. This is your shot at the big time, one stupid little fight and you have everything you ever wanted,” Debs’ voice cracks as she begs.
“Yes, but I can’t tell Camden about it, I’d have to lie to him. I don’t think I can do that,” I explain.
She huffs. “He’s going to need you to support him if he doesn’t get his shit together and get back in the ring, Tate. Take the fucking deal, or find another coach.” She crosses her arms, leaning against the lockers.
Biting my inner lip I want to tell her to go to hell. That Camden has taught me more than her, but she did get me this fight, how did she get me this fight?
“Debs, how did you get me this fight, with Kiki?”
She stops, her hand on the door hand
le.
“I promised a few friends my cut if you were accepted into The Underground. Being your coach, when you are accepted into The Underground I’m granted a payout as well.”
I scoff. I knew she was money hungry but I didn’t realize how deep her issues really lay.
“You have gotten this far Tate, granted I’m shocked, but are you really just going to give up?”
Camden
Walking back inside I find the hall outside Tate’s locker room oddly empty, a tension in the air unsettling. Quickly I make my way inside and find Tate getting dressed, and Debs leaning up against a locker casually. A chill races up my spine as Tate hits me with an unreadable look.
“Everything okay?” I question, looking between Tate and Debs.
Tate looks at Debs, then down at her feet before nodding.
Striding toward her I pull on her elbow, making her look me in the eye.
“Are you sure?”
Her eyes flutter before a weak attempt of a smile crosses her face. “Nothing, I’m just really tired. The high of the fight is gone and I’m starting to feel everything.”
Suddenly feeling like an ass for thinking she’s not telling me the truth, I let her go and rub at my chin.
“Lets get you to the hotel, has the medic looked her over?” I question Debs, ready to take Tate back to our room and pamper her.
“Yeah, she’s fine.” Debs waves me off.
“Tate, that was some fight my girl!” Tate’s father Nick cheers with amusement as he pushes his way through the room.
Tate lights up, and I can’t help but smile for her. “I knew you had it in you kid. Look, your sister wasn’t feeling so well so she’s outside in the car but I wanted to come tell you how proud I am.” He gives her chin a love tap with his hand. “You got that south paw from your old man.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and I want so bad to comfort her but I don’t. I let her have her moment.
“We should get going,” Debs states after Nick leaves the room.
“Yeah, lets go. I’m exhausted,” Tate mutters, grabbing her gym bag.
“Let me get that,” I insist, grabbing her bag, because Debs is fucking worthless when it comes to compassion.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tate
Standing in front of the hotel window I stare out at the night with a bed sheet wrapped tightly around my body. The city continues to move and live even at the late hour. A couple crosses the highway, holding each other’s hands as they race and laugh across the busy streets. I smirk, wondering what is going on their lives. What secrets they’re holding, what problems they’re trying to overcome. Maybe they have none. Maybe they’re completely happy and stupid.
I press my sore hand against the cold glass, the heat from my palm fogging the window.
My heart is telling me not to take the fight, but my head is telling me to take it. My parents’ house comes into mind and my heart aches. This is my only chance at keeping the house. Even if I lose, it’ll be enough to help. My whole life I’ve been told how I need to act like a lady, and girls don’t fight.
I can’t give up now, not when I have a lot more motherfuckers to prove wrong.
She said I can’t tell Camden.
I roll my eyes, I know that’ll never work. Once I get the money he’ll ask how I got it, and I can’t lie to him again. Lies breed more lies.
My head falls, unsure of what to do. If I tell him about the fight, he won’t let me do it. He’ll tell me it’s too dangerous, or unprofessional. I wonder if this was like the fight he was in when he was stabbed.
Warm arms wrap around my waist, startling me.
“I can hear you thinking, why aren’t you sleeping? Are you hurting?” His voice husky and tickling my ear I can tell he wants me.
I turn in his hold, and cup his face with my hands, the sheets still around my body.
“I’m a little sore, but I just can’t sleep in hotels.” I don’t completely lie.
He kisses my nose. “Come on, let’s get back to bed, we have an early flight back home.”
Climbing into bed with him, I lay on his chest like he likes. He quickly falls asleep, and I grab my phone off the end table and find Debs’ contact info. My fingers hesitating over the keys for just a second before finally typing:
I’m in.
If anyone can do this, why not me?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tate
Looking over the NDA my head spins. Party A, and provisions all sounding the same.
“Do I get a copy of this?” I ask, thumbing the pages that seem to go on forever.
“Yes.” Debs huffs giving me more papers to read and sign. “Just make sure you keep it in a vault or locked up. Silvia is not joking around when it comes to disclosure.”
Sitting back in the gym’s chair I exhale looking over the papers again.
“This seems sketchy, illegal even. Does the MFC know about it?” I look up at Debs who is biting her nails.
“I don’t know, who cares. It gets you to the top and us rich,” she quips.
I hate her outlook. There is more to the game than getting rich.
“What about respect?” I ask.
She eyes me like I’m crazy, and that’s how I know we are of a different breed. After this fight, I think I need to find another coach.
The doors to the gym open, blowing posters along the wall everywhere.
Someone’s here.
Quickly I push my copy of the NDA and rules in my gym bag and stand.
“When is the fight?” I whisper, my body temperature rising that we might get caught talking about it.
“Three weeks. We’ll catch a flight to Nashville, TN.”
“Three weeks! That is not enough time for me to heal in between fights.” I can’t help but raise my voice. Debs glances out the office door, noticing Cate sorting her vegetables for her morning smoothie. Debs shuts the door and arches a brow.
“Look, I know just about as much as you do. Luckily for you you’re not too banged up so three weeks should be fine. My guess is they make it quick between signing the NDA and the fight so you don’t over think it and back out, and less time for you to open your mouth,” she informs, her hand still on the office door.
I rub at my forehead anxiously. Why am I not backing out of this? So many red flags are waving, but for some reason it’s not enough for me to back out.
I want the money to help my dad and sister, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge either.
“I know of fighters that have done this Tate. It’s an honor to even be asked to participate, take the opportunity and seize the moment. She wouldn’t have asked you if she didn’t think you were ready.”
Anger rushes through me to where spots appear in my vision. “It’s not that I don’t think I can do this, it’s just a lot of secrets I don’t feel comfortable with.”
“If this is about you not telling Camden, just know that we all have a story we never tell.” She taps her nail on the door before leaving.
I sink back into my chair as my fingers fumble with my bottom lip.
I remember when I was little my dad telling a local newspaper that fighters have three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life. I used to wonder what secrets my father held, but as I’m stepping into his shoes I think I’m starting to find out.
Camden
Sitting on the bench I watch Tate as she jump ropes, I told her to take a few days off to heal but she insists that she keeps training.
She’s wearing some blue work out shorts, and a large yellow shirt with the arms cut off. Her blonde hair falling from her loose ponytail with every jump. I don’t know how she can make the simplest of clothes look like she took hours to perfect, but she does.
“Will you stop staring at my tits like that?” she asks between jumps.
I cock a smirk.
“When you have tits like you do, it’s like a vortex baby. They just suck me right in.” Raising my arms I display h
ow my sight zeros in on her delectable chest, and she laughs.
She stops jumping, dropping the rope to the ground. She seems off today, in fact she’s seemed off the last few days. I feel like she isn’t telling me something, but I can’t keep asking. I’ll look like a pussy.
“You want to eat?” I ask.
“No, I’m good.” I raise a brow. “I was thinking about getting pizza, when is the last time you had deep dish?”
“Uh, been awhile, but I’m good.” She shrugs.
Tilting my head to the side I eye her. Tate never backs down from pizza.
“Are you sick?”
“Do what?” She looks up me, her tone of voice indicating she has no idea what we are talking about. She hasn’t been the same and it’s starting to piss me off.
Grabbing her hand roughly I pull her into me, her eyes flashing with surprise.
“Do you need a good fucking? Is that what has you so unfocused and on edge? Do you need my cock?” Her cheeks warm as she looks around to see if anyone heard. Sliding my hand up her back, I fist her hair making her look me in the eyes.
“Screw them, I’ll fuck you right here and let them watch if it means I can bring you back to earth.”
“I think your ego is growing faster than your dick,” she smarts, and I strengthen my hold on her hair.
“Maybe you should test that out, tell me if my cock is bigger than my ego or not?”
Not giving her a chance to respond I walk her backwards before opening a door that leads into a storage closet.
“What are you doing?” she whispers frantically.
Ignoring her I shove her inside the dark closet and pull the door shut. Light from the gym skirts under the door giving barely enough light.
The room is small, filled with an old punching bag, a mop and bucket, and the broom. It smells of lemon and bleach, but it’ll do.
“Camden what—” I shove her against the punching bag and her eyes flash with anger.
“I see a lot of anger dwelling in those eyes baby.” Her throat bobs as she looks anywhere but at me. I grab her chin roughly making her look me in the eyes. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” I demand. Gritting her teeth her hand collides with my cheek, a burning sensation spreading across my jaw. My cock instantly goes hard.