They stay in this position in complete silence with their breaths synced to one rhythm.
Roman wonders if this is what it feels like to be loved unconditionally. Why was he so fortunate to have found such a compassionate, unselfish and giving human being like Tuesday?
Neither wants to let the other go.
For the first time in Roman’s life, he feels genuine closeness, a sense of belonging, and even safety in her arms. He knows he can trust her with his heart.
He pushes down deep the negative thoughts that have plagued him about Tuesday, Franklin Forrest, and her ex-boyfriend. None of that matters right now.
For a man about to step into the cage tomorrow and decimate his opponent, The Pretty can only fill his thoughts with Tuesday.
Chapter Twenty
The auditorium is at full capacity, and the roar of the crowd is almost deafening. Thousands have come to witness the ultimate fight of the century.
The men are in their perspective corners psyching themselves out for the match. Al rubs down The Pretty to work out the tense knots in-between his shoulder blades.
Roman searches the crowd for Tuesday. She sits five rows back from the ring. She gives him a friendly wave and blows him a kiss.
Roman winks at her before he refocuses his attention to inside the cage.
Allistor stands next to Lucky as his trainer rubs him down. “Remember, slow and steady. Dodge. Defense only the first two rounds.”
Lucky spits in a bucket, “I can take this guy in one.”
“I believe you’re quite delusional, Lucky. You’re no match for The Pretty. You can nurse your bruised ego after you cash your check. We’ve gone over this. Stick to the script.”
Allistor taps Lucky’s shoulder with his cane and exchanges knowing looks with the Referee before he steps outside of the cage.
Al puts a bottle of water to The Pretty’s lips as he takes a few swigs.
The Pretty and Lucky stomp around the cage near their corners to get their adrenaline up.
Fans hold up signs for both fighters as they cheer in anticipation of the bell.
The Television Commentators go over the rules of the fight.
“Three judges score the fight based equally on Striking, Grappling, Effective Aggression and Cage Control. It’s a ten point MUST system. Knees or downward elbows to the head of a grounded opponent are not allowed. And only the Referee or Doctor can stop the fight.”
The bell sounds and the lights go down. A spotlight shines on the Announcer, who is center cage.
“Welcome ladies and gentleman to the UFC featured bout of the evening; all made possible by Guzzle Energy Drink and HBO. This fight is sanctioned by the Athletic Commission, and its chairperson, Daniel Betters.”
The Announcer continues, “Introducing our three judges, scoring from cage side; all from Florida; Hector Montez, Chris Tangle and Bill Goodwin. And our third man in the cage, introducing tonight’s Referee, Troy Evans.”
And now, what the crowd has been waiting for. The Announcer gears up to announce the two fighters, “It’s the light-heavyweight attraction… and nooo ooo ow it's sss sss shoo ooo time!”
The crowd erupts with chants of “The Pretty” and “Lucky.” Fans hold their signs up above their heads and shake them in a rhythmic pace to their chants. Spotlights sweep the crowd as excitement reaches a climax.
“Let me introduce the fighter standing on my right, in the red corner and standing six foot two inches and a weight of two hundred and four pounds. His record stands at twelve wins, zero losses, five wins by way of a knockout and two by way of submission. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome the fists of fury himself, Theeeeeee Pretttttttttty!”
The Pretty raises both arms and walks around the cage to rile up the crowd. Fans chant his name Pre-tty, Pre-tty, Pre-tty as they hold up compact mirrors in solidarity.
The Announcer does the final introduction. “On my left, standing six foot and weighing one hundred and ninety-nine pounds, with a record of four wins, eight losses, ladies, and gentleman, please welcome the southpaw sensation, Luuuuuuuucky Leeeeeeeeewis!”
Fans chant Lu-cky, Lu-cky, Lu-cky. Lucky prances around the cage and shakes his fist at the crowd.
“Now to give the instructions, fighters center ring,” the Announcer orders.
The Pretty and Lucky Lewis face off as the crowd shouts their names. The energy in the arena is volcanic.
The Referee gives the instructions, “Gentleman, this is the main event, this is show time. You know the rules. I want a good clean fight. I won’t tolerate anything less. Go back to your corners and let's rock.”
The two fighters do as instructed. The Pretty gets last minute advice from Al, “Save your energy during this round. Let his tire himself out.”
Roman slaps his hands together and rolls his neck to loosen it up before the first bell.
The Referee points to The Pretty, “Fighter, are you ready?” He points to Lucky Lewis, “Fighter are you ready?”
Both fighters say yes as the bell sounds.
The fighters enter the center ring and circle each other.
Lucky Lewis is a southpaw while The Pretty is Orthodox. The Pretty lands hard body kick. The two trade punches as The Pretty lands an inside leg kick. Lucky charges and lands a right, but The Pretty circles out and away from Lucky.
Lucky receives a crushing body shot from Lucky, but he quickly rebounds and clips Lucky.
They exchange bombs. It looks like Lucky is hurt, so he backpedals, but The Pretty isn’t letting up. He presses Lucky into the fence. The Pretty is all over Lucky, but Lucky is saved by the bell.
Roman returns to a waiting Al, “I thought we agreed to conserve your energy?” he says as he applies ice packs to Roman’s back and shoulders.
Tuesday is pleased with the fight so far. It’s going precisely as she has envisioned.
The bell rings again which signals round two.
Lucky charges out and lands an inside leg kick to The Pretty’s left calf. He then dives toward The Pretty’s single leg and grabs ahold of it.
But The Pretty uses an under-hook before he crosses his other leg to land a half-guard. Lucky is on his back and scrambles and twists to get released. He does and jumps back to his feet. Lucky lands every third move, but he’s consistent. The Pretty goes deep and lands another hard body kick. He presses Lucky again into the fence. However, the Referee separates them for inactivity.
Lucky scores with a round of hard body kicks, a leg sweep and a left hook to end the round.
Lucky slowly moves towards his corner and plops down. He know’s he’s losing, and losing big time. He looks over his shoulder at Allistor, who sits near cage-side. Allistor tips his cane. The Referee glances again at Allistor before the third and final bell sounds.
The fighters step out of their corners for this third and final UFC light heavyweight championship title round.
The Pretty is up by four points at fifty-six. He has scored perfect tens from all three judges in the past two rounds. However, the Referee deducts points in two rounds for what he calls holding and fish hooking.
The Pretty’s opponent, Lucky Lewis, catches a few “lucky breaks.” Bookies give him 100 to 1 odds that he would make it to the third and final round against, The Pretty.
But the odds will turn in his favor. Lucky misses three swings as The Pretty’s lightning quick agility saves him from impact.
However, Lucky pretends to slip as The Pretty takes advantage of the fall and lands on top of him. He wraps his body around his and slides him over to the fence once again. However, Lucky twists out and conceals a rabbit punch to the base of The Pretty’s skull.
The Referee sees the banned technique, however, says nothing and does nothing. The Referee glances over at Allistor as he allows the fight to continue.
A blow like this can normally knock a player out, and possibly send them to an early grave. Yet, The Pretty manages to stand up.
Tuesday is use to brutal fights between men in
cages and knows The Pretty can handle himself, but this is different. She recognizes the illegal blow and jumps from her seat and charges towards the ringside Doctor. Unfortunately, she is stopped by Security.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” A Security Officer bellows, “Please take your seat.”
“Didn’t you see that?” Tuesday responds in a hyper state of agitation.
The Security Officer shakes his head and blocks her from going any farther.
From The Pretty’s corner, Al sees the illegal blow and gestures to The Pretty as to what to do. However, Roman waves him off as per The Pretty’s demands.
The Pretty refuses to allow a single punch to take him down, even if it’s an illegal one.
Officials, the Cornerman, everyone running the bout say The Pretty just looks tired, yet Tuesday knows otherwise. They all miss key moments where they should intervene to help, The Pretty.
The second sign of trouble comes towards the middle of this final round. The Pretty slightly staggers after he lands a Muay Thai short-range strike.
Tuesday recognizes his stagger as a gait disturbance, evidence of his changing condition. Why haven’t the referee or officials, or the coaches stopped the bout, Tuesday wonders?
The Pretty takes a jab and a leg kick from Lucky. The Referee reprimands Lucky for an illegal groin kick. Lucky’s back faces The Pretty as he stumbles. He doesn’t have his feet under him at this point.
This is the first indication of a deteriorating fighter. As the fight progresses, The Pretty’s feet cross, which puts him in a vulnerable position.
The ringside Doctor glances up at The Pretty and Lucky and ignores all the warning signals before he returns to texting. He takes his eyes completely off the fighters at a time when he should monitor them closely.
The Pretty is on the ropes as Lucky lands an uppercut. The Referee steps in and asks The Pretty if he wants to continue.
“Hell yeah,” The Pretty manages as he staggers back to his feet and into the center of the ring to confront Lucky.
From the sidelines, Tuesday shouts to the Referee, “Do a standing eight count.” However, her words are ignored. Or perhaps they are drowned out by the crowd.
Tuesday pushes her way towards the three judges before Security notices. Tuesday grabs the shoulder a Judge and asks, “Why in the hell is the Referee even in the ring if he’s not going to protect the safety of the fighters? You saw that illegal blow, why are you letting this continue?”
The Judge gestures for Security to take her away.
The bell sounds as both fighters return to their corners. The Pretty grabs ahold of the cage to steady himself but is unsuccessful. He loses his balance as Al catches him.
The ringside Doctor again glances into both corners before he returns to texting on his cell phone.
Al holds up The Pretty by his neck and shoulders as the Timekeeper taps the Doctor on his shoulder to get his attention.
The Pretty collapses to the ground.
Tuesday screams as she manages to make her way into the ring. She places The Pretty’s head in her lap and speaks to him, “Roman, Roman can you hear me? Speak to me, Roman!”
But The Pretty is old cold; and not the type of unconsciousness that comes and goes. This is so serious that Tuesday realizes that he may never awaken.
There is pure chaos inside and outside the cage. Allistor rises from his seat and strides away.
Lucky stands center cage as the Referee slaps Lucky on the back and raises his arm as the victor.
Paramedics arrive and attend to, The Pretty.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday returns to Franklin Forrest. The last time she was here, was with Roman.
She covers the amulet etched on her wrist with a scarf as the three Forces lightly touch down in front of her.
She approaches the First Force with these words, “I know what my wish is now.”
# THE END #
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(SUICIDE, A STEPBROTHER ROMANCE)
BOOK 1 OF 4
I stand at the edge of the ocean with my toes buried in the sand. I remove my clothing one piece at a time. First my jacket, then my shirt and bra; followed by my sweatpants and panties.
No one is around. I'm alone on this beach, so I feel liberated. It's a relief to have finally made the decision to leave this world the same way that I came into it.
No one would miss me. My ex-boyfriend dumped me for a red-headed sorority girl with freckles. Can you believe that? My mom remarried and now has a shiny new stepson to brag about named Jake.
I can't stand Jake. He's an alpha male about as perfect as perfect comes. Especially when compared to me. His first year in college and he's already on the Dean's list. He's a Rugby player with a million cheap dates throwing themselves at him.
What do I have? A piece of crap car that squeals every time I start it up, three Facebook friends and my incontinent dog, Buttons. I'd say that's not much to live for in my opinion.
I walk towards the water's edge and stick my toes in. Pretty chilly. But what do I care? I wade into the ocean, knee, then waist, then chest deep. My lips skim the surface of the water. I allow myself to sink without putting up a fight.
Just then, I'm yanked by the arm, thrown over the shoulder and brought back to shore. It's Jake.
As I lay naked in his arms, my eyes transfixed on his pink, smooth lips that curl up at the corners. Why do I suddenly want to kiss him?
“What the hell are you doing?” Jake shouts. I say nothing. Jake can’t help but run his eyes over my fully naked body in his state of exasperation.
I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.
I should be grateful, but I’m not.
It must have been a full minute before Jake grabs my shirt and covers me with it. I sit up.
“Why did you do it?” I ask. Jake shakes his head, “You mean save your pretty little ass?”
“Yes. How did you know I was here?”
Jake responds, “Your mom told me where to find you.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘our’ mom?” I ask.
“She’s my step-mother. I have a real mother. She just happens to be in France with her new amoureux. He probably wears a beret and scarf and has one of those skinny mustaches.”
I laugh out loud at his description of his mother’s lover. “See, life is good!” Jake pronounces.
I stand up and begin to put my clothes back on. Jake stands as well and turns his back with false modesty so that I can’t see that he is hard. I’m sure from rescuing me and all; must be an adrenaline rush thing.
I study his form while I dress. His jeans hug his lean hips and flow over his round backside as if they were made specifically for him. His white shirt is tucked in at the waist. I wish I were that shirt.
I’ve only gotten glimpses of his six-pack chest from a youtube video of one of his rugby games where he tares off his shirt after he scores a try before the conversion kick.
Yeah, I know a little something about rugby. I studied up once Jake came into our lives. But I would nev
er let him know that.
I’ve known Jake exactly three months and two days; this being day two. His father could not be prouder of his studly son, nor my mother.
I’m the black sheep of the family; the one with all the problems that my mom is happy to ignore. When Jake and his dad, Ben moved in, my mom finally had her perfect family. That is, it would be perfect if I weren't in the way.
The PRETTY (EROM Curvy Romance #1) Page 9