by Josie Kerr
“Is that why you’re giving Other Him a chance?”
“Maybe. And maybe he’s right.”
“You mean C-O-L-I-N?”
Bailey nodded. She never said Colin’s name because it broke her heart for Maude to perk up and look for him.
“If this is what you want to do, then by all means do it. Just be careful, Bailey. Please be careful.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Damon Pierce slammed his fist into the locker. “Fuck that fucking fucker of a fuck Carmichael. Fuck!”
Pierce breathed in and out of his mouth, taking in big gulps of air but it didn’t calm him at all. He slammed his fist into the lockers again.
“Whoa, dude, what’d that locker do to you?” Tripp said with a laugh.
“Fuck off, Holbrook.” Pierce started to push past Tripp, but Tripp caught his arm.
“Hey man, sorry. I didn’t realize you were so upset.”
Piece inhaled again. “Nah, man, it’s all good. Fuckin’ woman problems, you know?”
Tripp rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me about that. Why do you think I spend so much time here?”
Pierce chuckled and nodded. “Truth. Why do women feel the need to get with guys that treat them badly?”
“I don’t know, man. I don’t know. You wanna talk about it?”
“I’ve been with this girl, you know, two, two and a half years. The guy that she was with before, he dumps her as soon as he starts making some money, gets a shot at a title belt. Turns out he’s got another woman, and she’s pregnant.”
“Oh man, no way.”
Pierce nods. “So he decides that he wants my girl back, tells her, and she just up and moves out, says she’s gonna go back to him.”
“And you’d been with all this time.”
“Yep. Paid for her to move down here, got her a line on a job, and then she goes running back to this dude.”
“That’s crazy that you moved down here and then he’s down here as well.”
Pierce looked uncomfortable. “Well, the fact that he’s down here is kinda why I’m down here, too. He’s retired, supposedly. I want a rematch, and I knew that the best way that I could get one is for us to be in close proximity. I don’t even necessarily want it to be a sanctioned fight. I just want back in the octagon with that fucker, especially now.”
“Any chance of that happening?”
“He’s actually doing some sort of expo match with Dig.”
“Can you switch places with Dig?”
Pierce shook his head. “Nah. All the promo stuff is done, and Carmichael beat Dig. That was his last fight before he retired, so people are really looking forward to it.”
Tripp shook his head. “That’s a damn shame.”
Pierce sighed and nodded. “Thanks, man. I feel better just talking about it.”
“Any time, man. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that something will happen to Dig and he’ll have to pull out of the fight.” Tripp extended his fist to bump and Pierce met it.
Tripp walked out of the locker room with a grin on his face.
“Nice form, Dig. Nice. I want you to take him down. Take him down. Carmichael’s gonna want to get you on the ground so he can pound your ass. You need to beat him at his own game.”
Jett Raptor leaned against the cage walls, yelling instructions to Dig. This expo match was a good one, but he didn’t think that Dig had it in him to beat Carmichael. Carmichael might be retired, but Raptor would bet that he was the same single-minded fighting machine that he had ever been.
The sound of two heavyweight fighters’ bodies hitting the floor of the cage pulled Raptor’s attention back to the octagon.
“Okay, Dig, get out of that hold. Come on! Convert it!” Raptor yelled.
Pierce had his arm around Dig’s neck, with Dig’s arm pulled back where he couldn’t get any leverage.
“Come on, Dig. Get out! Turn it around!”
Dig tried to convert the move, but he couldn’t get any traction. Pierce slowly and imperceptibly tightened and rotated Dig’s arm.
“Turn it around, Dig! You think that just because Carmichael’s retired, he’s gonna be soft? Come on!”
Dig muttered through his mouth guard. “Pierce, this is just sparring, man.”
“Yeah, and I’m going easy on you. This is half of what Carmichael’s gonna serve.” Pierce twisted his arm a bit more. “Had enough? Maybe I need to be the one fighting Carmichael.” More twisting. More pressure. “Tap, man, if you’ve had enough.”
“I’m not tapping, asshole.”
Pierce tightened his grip on both Dig’s neck and arm, and Dig could feel the joint in his shoulder begin to give.
“Sorry, dude, but I have to do this,” Pierce muttered in Dig’s ear.
“What?” Dig’s question faded as a shot of pain ripped through his shoulder and he blacked out.
Chapter Thirty-two
May
“He’s falling apart, Mick. No, change that – he’s fallen apart. He still comes into the gym, but he doesn’t train, he doesn’t scout, he doesn’t do anything except sit in his office and stare at the computer. This fight is in a little less than three weeks and Dig’s gonna kill him if he doesn’t get his head on straight.”
“I know, Junior. I went over to the duplex yesterday and found him in Bailey’s unit, sitting in the nursery. It would have been hilarious, his giant body sitting in that little prissy chair, if it wasn’t so heartbreaking.”
“Tell me what I can do.”
“Get him back in the cage. Make him beat on someone.”
“Okay. It’s done.”
Junior pressed the End button, shaking his head. Fuck, this was going to suck.
Junior paused outside the door to the Colin’s office. He took a deep breath, and threw open the door.
“Okay, C, let’s go.” He threw some light gloves at Colin, who looked at them as if he never seen anything like them before. “Let’s. Go. Colin. In the cage.”
“Fuck. Off. Junior,” Colin said with the same clipped intonation that Junior has just used on him.
“Okay, jackass. Enough. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re pissed. But I’m not going to let you ruin yourself and this gym by sitting there like a...sad sack. Paddy’s worked too hard, you’ve worked too hard, hell, I’ve worked too hard to let you piss it away over a woman.”
“Fuck. You. Junior.”
“No, fuck you, Colin. You have a fight in eighteen days and you’re sitting in here, pissing and moaning about some pedazo de cuero...”
Colin flew from his seat and wrapped his hands in Junior’s shirt. “Don’t you ever fucking call her that again.”
Junior didn’t back off but shoved Colin backwards and said, “Get in the fucking cage, Colin.”
Colin let Junior go with a shove and stalked around from behind the desk. He pulled the gloves on and followed Junior out to the cage.
“Hold up. Get on the scale.” Colin got ready to balk, but stepped on the scale anyway.
“Where am I?” Colin asked, in his usual stance, back to the scale.
“Where do you think you are?” asked Junior, his face carefully blank.
“I think I’m down some more. Or maybe I’m up. Fuck if I know.”
“Call it, Colin.”
Colin took a deep breath. “Two forty-five.”
Junior stared at scale. “Take your shirt off, Colin.” Colin scowled. “Take your fucking shirt off.”
Colin pulled his shirt off as demanded. Junior whistled. “Gordo.”
Colin gave up and turned to look at the number. “That can’t be right. This scale been calibrated lately?”
Tig jogged by. “I went to get my physical day before yesterday and they weighed me at the doctor’s office. I came straight here, wearing the same gear and got on the scale and it was the exact same weight. C, no offense, but you don’t look so great, man. I mean, you’re ripped as hell
now, but you’ve got way too big a frame to only be carrying two twenty-five.”
Junior raised his eyes to the sky. “Jesu Christo! Thank you, Captain Obvious.” He shook his head at the younger fighter. “Go put up the weights or fold the towels or something. Good God.”
Colin chuckled as the little fighter scurried off. “He’s all right, Junior.”
Junior thanked his God and his God’s mother that Colin at least laughed. He knew that traditional things, like other pussy or booze or weed, wouldn’t work to get Colin out of his funk, so he was at a loss if sparring the sadness out of him didn’t work. Thank goodness for the little featherweight fighter. He’d have to make sure that he pointed a cute girl Tig’s way.
“Get in the cage, Colin. I’ll be there in a sec.” He turned to Tig. “Hold up, Tig. I need you to wrap my hands for me.”
Tig’s eyes got big. “You’re gonna spar with C?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna spar with C.”
“Dude…”
“Less commentary, more wrapping, Tig.”
Things got really quiet in the gym. Dios, now what? Junior turned and saw his worst nightmare walk through the door of DS Fight Club: Bruce Pryde, Jett Raptor and fucking Damon Pierce. Fuck.
“Whoa, what’re they doing here?” Tig asked.
“I don’t know, but Tig, do not let C even think about looking toward the front of the gym until I get to the bottom of this.”
“Holy shit, is that Pierce? Man, do they hate each other as much as they seem to?
“TIG!”
“Okay, going to babysit. Jeez.” Tig scampered off.
Maybe the kid was stupid like a fox because Colin was following Tig back to the weight room, which was completely out of sight from the front of the gym. Junior made a mental note to call those blonde twins the next time he heard that Tig was going out.
“Junior.”
“Bruce, man. What brings you ITP?” Junior smiled and shook Pryde’s hand but merely nodded at Raptor and didn’t acknowledge Pierce at all.
“Are C and Paddy around?” Pryde asked. “We’ve got some things to discuss, and I didn’t want to do it on the phone.”
Junior frowned. What the actual fuck is going on?
“Yeah, yeah. C’s helping someone with their form, and Paddy’s in his office. Come on back to the meeting room.”
The men made their way to the conference area, and the gym got quieter and quieter.
Paddy roared out of his office, yelling, “What the fuck is going on?”
“Hey, Paddy, we’ve got some guests,” Junior said with a nod backwards at the three men from Raptor Pryde.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, thought Paddy. It’s not like I have enough to deal with Colin sooking around like someone kicked him in the stones, but now Pryde and these two arseholes show up? Fuck me.
“What brings you gentlemen to DS Fight Club?” Paddy asked.
Pryde scrubbed his face with his hands. “We have a situation, Paddy. I was wondering if we could talk with you and C.”
Paddy nodded, and led the men to the conference room after jerking his head to Junior to go get Colin.
The four men were sitting at the table in conference room, the three Raptor Pryde men on one side, and Paddy on the other, when Colin and Junior arrived. Colin and Junior slid into their chairs on either side of Paddy, and Colin looked at the three men across from them.
“Okay, so let’s have it,” Paddy said.
“Dig’s injured. He can’t fight,” Pryde said. “Spiral fracture of the forearm and a rotator cuff injury.”
“Fuck. How’d he do that?” Colin asked.
Pryde shot a look at Pierce. “Sparring that got out of hand.”
“So what do you want to do? Wait it out? Or substitute another fighter?” Paddy asked, but he already knew the answer. Fuck.
Fuck, thought Junior. Pierce is the only guy that could possibly beat C.
Goddammit, could this month get any more fucked up? thought Colin.
Pryde let out a heavy sigh, but Raptor started talking before his partner could. “Pierce offered to take Dig’s place. He’s the only guy that’s near C’s weight class, and you have to admit, the draw of an Ice Cold/Arrow rematch had the potential to be even bigger than the one with Dig.”
Junior was paying attention to what the men were saying, but he was paying more attention to Pierce and Colin’s interactions than anything. Pierce’s eyes were boring into Colin’s, and the man looked like he was barely containing his anger. Colin, on the other hand, had retreated into himself, his eyes icy with hatred.
Oh, fuck. This is bad. This is so bad.
Paddy and Colin remained in the conference room while Junior walked Raptor, Pryde, and Pierce out of DS Fight Club. When Junior returned, he sat across from Paddy and Colin, and waited for Paddy to speak.
“What do you think about this, Colin? You were suspiciously quiet during the entire exchange.”
“It’s fine. Dig, Pierce, who the fuck ever. It doesn’t matter who I fight, as long as the fight comes off. We’ve got an obligation to these charities.”
Paddy scratched the back of neck. “You don’t believe the shite that just came out of your gob, do you? Because I sure as fuck don’t, Colin.”
Colin shrugged.
Paddy continued. “I think we all know that Pierce is the only fuck that can worm his way into that thick skull of yours, and honestly, if there weren’t a lot of charitable money at stake, I’d tell all of ‘em to fuck off, that you weren’t gonna fight.”
Colin shrugged again and this time Paddy got angry. He leaned over the table in a flash and grabbed Colin by the neck, forcing the huge fighter to look in his eyes. “You’re gonna lose, Colin, and you’re gonna lose fucking big if you don’t decide to fight for what’s yours.”
Suddenly, it seemed that the last thing that Paddy was talking about was the fight that took place inside an octagonal cage.
Paddy shoved Colin back in his seat and sat back down in his chair. “There need to be some changes, and I’m gonna supervise your preparation. No offense, Junior, but you’re too close to this. He’s gotten soft. He’s worrying too much about shite that doesn’t matter when he’s inside the cage, shite that could ruin him. It stops now.” He turned back to Colin. “I’m gonna give you overnight to sort yourself out. Whether you do or you don’t, that’s on you, but you’re gonna come in here tomorrow and you’re gonna be prepared to work, and to win.”
Paddy looked Colin, and then he looked at Junior. He exhaled, shook his head, and pushed off from the table and walked out of the conference room.
“You heard him, Gordo. Get sorted.” Junior’s voice was harsh, but he reached out and rubbed Colin’s head before he left Colin sitting at the big conference table, lost in thought.
Chapter Thirty-three
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Bailey wiggled out from where Tripp had a grip on her hip.
Oh, God. I can’t do this.
“Didn’t you say that the lawyers have a big brief due tomorrow so you need to be on call? I remember the way that those guys were – you need to firing on all cylinders.” She backed closer to the door. “And I need to go pick up Maude from Em’s pretty early. They’ve got things planned.”
Bailey smiled at Tripp, but unfortunately, he misinterpreted that smile and zoomed in for a kiss. Ack! She turned her head so that his lips came in contact only with her cheek – thank God – and she still held her breath until he moved his face away.
When Tripp brought his head back, his mouth was flattened in frustration. He huffed a breath, but moved his lips to what he hoped was a smile.
“Okay, you’re right. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow. I’ll see you soon, Bailey.”
“Bye, Tripp.”
“‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’” Bailey said, mocking Tripp’s voice. “Hell, no, I’m not going to invite you in.” She stomped through the
house to the bedroom, got changed into her comfy clothes, and then stomped back through the living room and into the kitchen.
Dammit, I’m still hungry. She was always hungry when she got back from dates with Tripp because he took her to fancy places where the servings were tiny. She rummaged through the refrigerator and got out an apple, some cheddar cheese slices, and spicy mustard.
A grilled cheese with apple is just the thing.
Bailey quickly made her sandwich and then plopped down on the couch and scrolled through the movies, studiously avoiding the Romance and Action categories. She settled on an old screw-ball comedy and ate her sandwich, by herself, in the dark, and after she finished her meal, she clicked the television off and stomped into her room to go to bed alone.
The next morning, she was at Em and Mick’s bright and early to pick Maude up.
“Hey, ducky, you’re up and at ‘em early today,” Mick said with a grin and a peck on the cheek. “We just finished breakfast.”
“Thanks for keeping Maude last night, Mick, though I don’t think I’m going to need this again.”
“Hey, Bailey! Look girls, it’s Bailey!” Em grinned wide and Emily waved while Maude immediately started clasping her little hands, beckoning Bailey to come pick her up. Bailey scooped her daughter up and kissed her all over her face, ignoring the smeared scrambled egg.
“Do you want to go to the Farmer’s Market with us?” Em asked. “The weather’s nice and it’ll be good to walk around.”
“Oh, no. You three go on. Maude and I have plans.”
“Bailey, your nose is growing, girl. And besides, it’ll just be me and Emily because Mick’s...” her voice trailed off.
“Is going to the expo conference. Right.”
“Sorry, honey.”
Bailey shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s fine.” It’s not okay and it’s not fine, dammit!
“I take it the scrodbag hasn’t called.”
“Which scrodbag? Because if you mean Tripp, oh boy, he hasn’t stopped calling. If you mean your brother, no, I haven’t heard from him.”