The Storm

by R. J. Prescott

  Kieran didn’t say anything to me, so I stood awkwardly at the door. The second Con was done, he tapped the back of Kier’s hands to indicate he was finished, and Kier launched himself from his seat. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me into the bathroom. I was so shocked I didn’t even have time to worry what everyone must have thought. Pushing me gently against the closed door, he stroked his calloused fingertips down my cheek.

  “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.”

  “Always,” I whispered back. “No matter what.”

  “Even if I get my arse kicked tonight and completely embarrass myself?”

  “That won’t happen, but even if it did, then yes, even then.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and moved his lips against mine. His kiss was so breathtakingly perfect that longing and excitement raced through me, chasing away all of my nerves and doubts. The violent maelstrom of fear and worry that had always existed between us, about my health and his fight, all of it was gone. In its place, the air was electrically charged with excitement, longing, confidence, and love. When he rested his forehead against mine, I felt them all. There was no other word for it than magic.

  “I’m going to ask you to marry me one day, you know that, right?” he told me.

  “One day I might say yes.”

  “One day…,” he whispered.

  Three hard knocks sounded on the door.

  “Enough shenanigans,” Danny hollered out. “Kier, get your arse out here.”

  “Time to go to work, baby,” I said to him.

  “Bring it on.” He smirked before giving me a quick kiss. We opened the door to a room full of grinning friends.

  “Shame, shame, know your name!” Tommy teased, wagging his finger at us.

  Kier laughed, and I buried my face in his side with embarrassment. I walked over to sit down by Em and watch the guys do their thing. Liam and Tommy talked quietly amongst themselves, while Con helped Kieran with his gloves before holding up some pads. I loved watching him. He moved so gracefully and fluidly, it was almost like he was weightless.

  “We ain’t practicing now, kid. This is for real,” Danny murmured to Kieran as he fired into the pads. “Now, when you get out there, you know what to expect. The lights, the TV cameras, all of it’s nothin’ but a feckin’ circus. You gotta ignore it, you hear me? You focus on the dickless wonder in the ring. This guy is mean. He’s cutthroat, and he wants nothin’ more than to leave you on that canvas bleeding and broken while he walks away with your girl. So you tell me, are you gonna let that happen?”

  “Hell no!” Kieran shouted.

  “I can’t hear you, kid. Are you gonna let that happen?” Danny asked again.

  “Hell no!” Kier shouted louder.

  “That’s real good, kid. I’m proud of you. Now I want you to make everyone else proud, and you show ’em what we all know you’ve got,” Danny said, slapping Kier on the back.

  Kieran shadowboxed for a bit until Heath walked through the door, just before one of the officials.

  “Mr Doherty, it’s time,” the official told Kieran before closing the door behind him.

  “All good?” Kier asked Heath.

  “All good,” Heath replied. “You just focus on winning. I’ve got the rest sewn up.”

  Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Kier turned back to Con, who was holding out his robe.

  “Bloody hell. Bit fuckin’ fancy, ain’t it?” Kier commented. The robe was silk, but it looked as though it had been made from the Irish flag.

  “Courtesy of your sponsor for the fight,” Heath explained.

  Kier looked up at me. His predatory eyes narrowed, and I knew he was thinking about me wearing it later. I tried to suppress my smile, because I was thinking the exact same thing. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw the emerald green underwear I was wearing under my dress. I’d even replaced the tiny bow in the middle of the bra with a bow in the colours that matched his robe. He was going to have a coronary when he peeled it off later.

  Liam and Tommy both gave Kier a man hug, then touched their heads to his, in what I assumed was a gesture of good luck. Em hugged him and kissed his cheek, which earned a scowl from Con. After telling him to “kick some arse,” she walked into O’Connell’s arms to soothe his ruffled feathers.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked me. His gloves gripped either side of my waist as he rested his forehead against mine. I laid my hands on his rock-hard abs and sighed.

  “I’m wondering how long it’s going to take for you to knock him out, so you can do bad things to me,” I answered, making him chuckle.

  “Well, now I have extra incentive to hurry things up,” he told me with a quick kiss.

  Liam and Tommy walked Em and me to our seats, and I was more than a little overwhelmed. The arena was packed full, and the ring was surrounded by cameras, suits, and scantily clad ring and sponsor girls.

  “Are you ready for this?” Em asked me.

  “Is there ever any way to be ready for all of this?” I asked.

  “Sure there is. After they’ve kissed you goodbye, they get into the zone, and they make themselves the biggest, toughest badarse in the room. The only thing that can mess with that is us. If they think we’re hurt or worried or upset, it messes with their heads. So you get in the zone, just like they do. You take all your fear and anxiety and that feeling like you’re going to vomit every time they take a hit, and you hide it behind a mask. The only thing you show the media vultures is how proud and confident you are that your man is going to completely kiss arse. That you know it, and soon they’ll know it too.”

  “And if I actually think I am going to vomit?”

  “Then swallow it and think of anything else, but do not leave your seat. If they see your empty seat, the fight’s over for them.”

  I imagined my big guy hopping over the ropes to come and hold my hair back when I puked, and I knew she was right. Kieran had promised to stand by me, despite all my shit. The least I could do was hold my head high for him. Standing a little straighter, I pushed my shoulders back and walked confidently towards my seat. I was relieved to see Albie and Kieran’s mother in the seats next to ours.

  “You look beautiful,” she told me.

  “You too,” I complimented back. And she really did. Her long-sleeved, fitted black dress, coifed hair, and understated jewellery were the epitome of Grace Kelly elegance. It seemed such a tragedy that she’d been widowed so young and had never remarried. But after meeting Kieran, I understood. Sometimes two people have a love so profound, that when one dies, the other has no choice but to wait for them in the next life.

  “I’m practicing my ‘proud and happy’ face so that nobody realises I’m trying not to vomit or burst into tears,” I confided in her.

  “Thank God.” She put her hand over her heart. “I thought I was the only one!”

  She slipped her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze before we joined in with the applause as the MC made his way to the stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event of the evening. I am proud to present twelve three-minute rounds of heavyweight boxing, sponsored by Red Bull and MB Promotions. It is the IBF Heavyweight Championship, being broadcast around the world by Sky Sports Pay-per-view. Let’s meet the fighters. Coming to the stage first and fighting out of the red corner, with ten victories, two by knockout, and only one defeat. With head coach Danny Driscoll. His official weigh-in being two hundred and twenty pounds. From Killarney, Ireland and trained here on your very doorstep, Kieran ‘The Storm,’ Doherty!” the MC hollered through the microphone. The crowd erupted in cheers as Kanye West’s “Stronger” belted through the speakers.

  “Did Kieran pick this?” I asked Em, standing up and clapping with everyone else.

  “Tommy picked it. Kieran owed him a favour for fixing his mum’s heating, and Tommy called it to pick his theme music. Mind you, Tommy has a thing for power ballads, so Kier could h
ave done a lot worse,” she shouted back to me.

  The boys began to emerge through a walkway covered in Sky Sports and Red Bull banners. The powerful beat vibrated through the floor, and I could totally see why Tommy had chosen the soundtrack for their entrance. Con strutted confidently, his hoodie pulled over his head and his face a mask of concentration. I suspected it was his automatic game face for his own fights. Danny looked just as mean and stern, wearing his usual scowl, but Heath was all business.

  The man who made my heart beat faster emerged and the crowd went nuts. Unlike Con, he looked totally relaxed and in control as he searched for me. Meeting my eyes, he winked cheekily, making me laugh. God, that man made me melt just with a smile. He swaggered up the steps and into the ring like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  My smile turned to a frown as I watched the Red Bull ring girl move to his side. In tiny booty shorts, an over-sized red bull belt, and a crop top that made her huge tits look like a volcano about to erupt, I felt strangled by the tendrils of jealousy wrapping themselves around me. Standing as close to him as she possibly could without actually touching him, she put her hand on the hip she’d cocked out and pouted to the crowd as she pushed out her chest towards Kieran. I honestly didn’t think he noticed until he followed my line of sight. Grinning at my affront, he moved to put his sponsor between them as they stood for a photo.

  “I didn’t like the ring girls either,” Em said to me, grinning as she saw the expression on my face. “They have them at the fights too, along with round girls. But then I met one of them in the corridor before a fight. Her feet were killing her, but if they take those killer heels off or drop the plastic Barbie smile, then they get shit from the promoters. Her mum was sick, and she was trying to help out with the bills in between school. The money isn’t great, but it’s better than waitressing, so she could fit it in around college.”

  “Well, now I feel like a jealous bitch,” I admitted.

  “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of women out there who would happily run you over to be on the arm of a professional fighter, and you’re going to have to grow a thick skin to deal with them. But as long as you remember that he’s only got eyes for you, you’ll be fine.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you, watching the women throwing themselves at your husband?” I really wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but she and Con were the most solid couple I’d ever met. There must be some secret to her taking all this stuff in stride.

  “Of course it does, but the only thing I know with more certainty than how much I love him is how much he loves me. The people he cares about are the ones who were there for him when he had nothing. Anyone that sucks up to him now just pisses him off, women included.”

  I followed her gaze back to the stage where Con and Kieran were chatting as they kept their eyes fixed on us. Eventually, they both turned to Danny, and I knew he was getting them back in the zone.

  “And for his opponent, fighting out of the blue corner, let’s welcome to the stage the champion. With twenty-seven victories, ten wins by knockout, and zero losses. With head coach, Kris Van Der Berg. His official weigh-in being two hundred and thirty pounds. From Düsseldorf, Germany, the unbeaten Konstantin ‘Bone Breaker’ Schmidt!” the MC called out.

  Schmidt’s supporters erupted as the strains a familiar Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s song boomed through the arena. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as the spotlight focused on a titan that materialised from the darkness. Unlike my man, who’d put his family first, this guy walked out with an army behind him. Dressed in matching tracksuits, two men held a belt each high in the air. I didn’t think it was possible to make men much bigger than Kieran and Con, but I’d bet that Schmidt even had an inch or two and a couple of pounds on Liam.

  As he got to the ring, Schmidt deliberately looked over and caught my eye. Remembering Em’s words, I met his stare and tilted my chin in defiance. That was my man up there, and if Schmidt thought I’d let Kieran see fear on my face, he was sorely mistaken.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kieran

  “Man, your Marie’s got some balls. Did ya see that look she gave Schmidt?” Con commented.

  “Yeah, that fucker’s gonna pay for eyeballing my girl,” I replied.

  “Is that a poncho he’s wearing?”

  “It’s the wrong shape,” I answered. “It looks more like one of them tabard things the three musketeers wear.”

  We both stared at him again, trying to work out if that’s what it was.

  “Either his sponsors made him wear it or he lost a bet,” I remarked.

  “Whatever it is, it’s a fuckin’ weird fashion choice if you ask me.”

  “They probably couldn’t get a robe to fit him. Look at the size of the fucker.”

  “Do you know why Em won’t buy anything other than them little baby tomatoes?” he asked me.

  “Why?” I asked, confused as to where he was going with this.

  “It’s because she says the giant ones are all genetically modified and full of water. This fucker ain’t no different. He’s full of water, piss, and wind most likely. Big means heavy. Heavy means slow. He gets you on the ropes and you’re gonna be in a world of hurt. So you stay mobile. You stay light, and you wait out the rounds until you wear him down. He goes for the knockouts ’cause he can’t last the twelve rounds. You do what you need to do to get to the end of the fight, and then you go to work on him. Remember the plan and stick to it.”

  “Don’t worry, mate. I’ve got this. But if I get caught and slapped around a bit, remind me of the plan between rounds. You know, in case I’m a bit concussed.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” he said on a sigh. “You are such a candy-arse sometimes. Just get in there, knock him out, and let’s go party. I plan on getting laid tonight, and if you don’t get knocked out, you might get some action too.”

  “Is that an offer, big boy?” I teased.

  “In your dreams, dipshit.” He shoved my gum shield into my mouth as I grinned.

  “For feck’s sake, do you boys ever take anything seriously? Kier, you listen to Con now and stick to the plan. Your girl and your ma are down there watching. Make ’em proud,” Danny added.

  I bounced up and down and shook out my shoulders as I took it all in. All the pageantry and bullshit fell away, and just like that, I was a teenage punk, scrapping with my best friend in some spit and sawdust ring. I knew in my heart that I could take this fucker down. It wouldn’t be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t afraid of the fight, and I wasn’t afraid to lose. I was going to give him absolutely everything I had, and if he was still standing at the end of it, then I’d shake his hand. After I kneeled him in the balls for disrespecting Irish of course. There was no shame in losing if you gave it all you had. Trying and failing takes courage. The real tragedy is in failing to try at all.

  Schmidt was terrified of losing. I could see it in the clench of his teeth as his father shouted out rapid instructions in German, accompanied by angry hand gestures. By the way he kept looking at his promoters and the ridiculously huge entourage he’d brought with him, if he lost this title, he imagined there’d be more than a few angry words from papa Schmidt tonight. The referee signalled us both, and we moved to the centre of the ring.

  “Right, boys, I want a good, clean fight tonight and protect yourself at all times. Now, touch gloves and move back to your respective corners,” the referee said. He moved back, leaving Schmidt eyeballing me.

  “I like your girl. She needs breaking in a little bit, but she looks like she’d enjoy it,” he said with a thick German accent.

  “Well, she told me to tell you that she liked your cape. Said it goes with your pretty eyes. She’s a designer, so maybe I can introduce you when you get out of hospital, and you can exchange fashion tips,” I replied, channelling Deadpool. Fuck, I loved that movie.

  “You are a comedian. You think you are funny. Let’s see you laughing when the fight is over.” Clearly, I’d hit a nerve.


  “You put that cape back on big boy, and I promise you I’ll laugh,” I responded, making him sneer.

  “Fuck you, arsehole!” He bashed his gloves down on top of mine before going back to his corner.

  “Well, now I’m hurt,” I retorted as I walked back to mine.

  Danny and Con had already climbed out of the ring, and in the final seconds I glanced at my girls. Ma and Irish both sat ramrod straight and so serious they almost looked like they were in pain. They caught my eye, and I winked as I grinned. They both smiled back, though Ma rolled her eyes. Schmidt’s little show of bravado had cut the cord of tension between us. I might take a beating, but I’d taken a beating before. At least now I was having fun.

  The bell rang, and I did what I do best. I pissed him off. He came at me straight out of the gate, probably hoping to get me on the ropes for a first-round knockout. As if I’d have made it that easy for him. I danced and weaved around the canvas like I was born to it. I might have been big, but I was also fuckin’ fast. I had to be growing up in the ring with Con. A few minutes of this and the crowd was getting restless as well. There was only one thing an audience at an international bout wanted, or at any boxing match as it happens, was blood. I’ll bet Schmidt didn’t think I’d be the one to give it to them first. He caught me in the ribs with a couple of glancing jabs as I was on the move, but made the mistake of glancing past me to see if the judges had clocked the hits. Dodging to the left, I left a clear line of sight between him and the judges as I threw all of my weight in a right hook to his face. They say that light travels faster than sound, which is probably why I noticed the splatter of blood before I heard the crack of his nose breaking. The referee moved in, just as the bell signalled the end of round one.

  “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that,” commented Con with a chuckle as he swilled out my mouth. I spat the water into the bucket and wondered how long it would stay clear.

  “Do you think this means he won’t want to be friends?” I asked.