“Fuck you, Will.”
Will smiles. “Later. Let’s go out there and knock this cocksucker out.”
I nod to Sal who then opens the door. The crowd is going wild, Davidson’s entrance song, Aloe Blacc’s “The Man,” buzzes throughout.
“Get your headphones on and block this shit out,” Will says, pulling them up to my ears.
I roll my neck and shake my hands at my sides, trying to stay warm and loose. Victor is waiting for us in the hallway and joins our pack as we walk to the entranceway. The media and NAFL’s cameramen see us coming and scramble into position. I put my head down and Will tosses the towel over my head.
The tunnel is in front of us, the crowd dying down as the lights dim. There’s a black hole waiting for me and I take step after step towards it.
“You guys ready? I’m about to give you a show to remember,” I say, peppering myself in the face a few times.
Will’s hands are on my shoulders, working them back and forth.
I forgot this feeling. The buzz, the electricity that surrounds a fight is unmatchable.
I missed this shit. This is what I was born to do.
The adrenaline kisses my veins, rockets through my body. I feel invincible.
A smile spreads across my face and I bow my head so the cameras don’t catch it. I turn my head to the side and make eye contact with Sal. He sees the look in my eyes and laughs.
“Killers aren’t made. They’re born,” he says, loud enough for just me to hear. “You were born for this, kid. When you get out there, destroy him, Crew. Where you came from, there is no mercy. Show him none.”
I click the button on my headphones, the first notes of “Lose Yourself” playing as we approach the mouth of the tunnel. I take a step through and the spotlight hits me. I glance up and every jumbotron in the building has my face on it, a barrage of flashes goes off in every direction.
All eyes on me.
JULIA
The station goes to commercial just as Hunter enters the cage. He looks larger, meaner, more evil than I even remember. In his red sparkly trunks and his hair manuvered into a perfect mohawk, he looks like the asshole I know he is.
I start to sit on the sofa when a knock raps on the door. I have no idea who it is, but I don’t want to walk away from the television. Feeling torn, I yell, “Who is it?”
“Julia! It’s me, Macie!”
“Macie?”
“Yes! From the hospital!”
“It’s unlocked! Come in!”
I watch the end of a sports drink commercial before Macie comes around the corner. She sits her purse on the counter and smiles at me. “I hope I’m not bothering you, girlie, but I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be here alone. And Will thought it would be a good idea for me to come by . . .”
I smile gratefully. “Thank you. Maybe you being here will keep me from losing my mind.”
She returns my smile and sits down beside me. “I would’ve been here earlier but my shift ran over. I got Will’s texts as soon as I clocked out and hurried over here.”
I shush her as the fight comes back on, pointing at the screen.
“I’ve never seen someone with no professional fights garner this much attention, Nate,” the announcer on the television says. “Crew Gentry walks into the place tonight and the crowd is going wild. This is insane!”
I watch as the camera comes into focus. Crew is walking into the stadium, a towel over his head. A man is walking next to him, Will a few steps behind. The lights are shining directly on him, the crowd screaming like he’s a rock star.
“I can’t believe this,” I whisper to Macie.
“The crowd is on its feet, acting like this is the main event! Don’t forget, we have Love vs. Brusci following this fight,” the announcer laughs.
“Marv, no one cares,” Nate laughs. “This is the main event, whether it’s billed that way or not.”
“By watching this, you’d think the crowd agreed with you, Nate. The response to Gentry coming in is every bit as strong as what we heard for Davidson.”
The towel slips just a bit and I see his eyes. He’s looking forward, not towards the camera, not seeming to register the craziness the announcers are going on about.
“I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never seen a fighter come into the cage with no entrance song,” Marv remarks. “He’s coming in with black shorts and no fanfare. His team is wearing black shirts with the word “Believe” across the front and a simple “Crew Gentry” across the back. Compare that to the red, flashy shorts and self-aggrandizing music of Davidson and we couldn’t have more of a dichotomy in opponents!”
“That’s what makes this fight so interesting, Marv.”
Crew makes it to the opening of the cage. A man in a black suit steps in front of him. Crew shows him his mouth piece and his gloves. He nods at something the man says and steps through the metal links.
My stomach curls. As the station goes into their statistics, I run into the bathroom and lose the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
CREW
The door to the cage clinks shut behind me. I look across the mat and I’m face-to-face with the motherfucker I’ve been dying to get my hands on again.
He’s jumping up and down in a boyish attempt to be intimidating, hitting himself in the face and yelling. It sort of makes me laugh, but it sort of makes me want to beat the fuck out of him worse. I can’t tell if he’s doing it for the cameras or for me.
I shake my hands at my sides and bend a few times to loosen my legs, careful through this process not to remove my glare from his face. I don’t need to jump up and down like a gymnast to intimidate him. I just need to let him see my eyes. That’s all the intimidation I need because unlike him, I’m not a circus performer. I’m a fighter.
The referee walks into the center of the cage and motions for us to join him. Hunter grins his cocky little grin as he comes at me and I meet it with a cold, dead gaze. The same gaze I’ve been giving him since I got in the cage.
This isn’t a game to me. This is a confluence of events, some shitty aligning of the stars, an opportunity for me to put things the way they should’ve been anyway.
The ref puts his hands between us and the mic lowers from the ceiling. The crowd is deafening, roaring with excitement. I look at Hunter’s face across from me and the noise drowns out. It’s just me and him.
“Gentlemen,” the ref says, “I want a good clean fight. Listen to my commands and defend yourselves at all times. Touch gloves and go back to your corners.”
Davidson extends his gloves and I touch them. He pushes back and flinches at me, acting like he’s going to come across the invisible line and start the fight right fucking now. I hear him laugh. “Fuck, man, your girl tasted good. I can’t wait to put my mouth on that little pussy of hers.”
Pure rage soars through me. My arm immediately snaps forward, aiming at his face. Hunter’s expecting it, though, and is already a few steps back and out of reach. I barrel forward, ready to end this motherfucker right now. The referee jumps between us, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Gentry! Enough! Get to your corner!” he says, inches from my face.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that!” Davidson shouts across the mat. “I’ll do that right after I bury you beside your dead brother.”
I try to charge forward again, but the ref keeps pushing me back. “Just a minute, Gentry!”
Satisfied that I’m far enough away to not get to my opponent before the bell actually signals it’s time for it, he turns to Davidson. “Keep it clean, Davidson!”
Only then do I register the voices of Sal and Will behind me, almost drowned out by the noise of the stadium. The room is hot, blisteringly hot, the energy curling through the air almost electric. The crowd feels the anticipation of what’s to come, ready to see us end a vendetta years in the making.
“Gentry! You fuckin’ listen to me!” Sal shouts behind me. I glance over my shoulder, his fing
ers laced through the fence. “You keep your head on your shoulders out there! Let his mouth fuel you, but don’t let it make you fuckin’ crazy! We have a plan and you better stick to it, kid!”
The ref is back in the center, his arms out in front of him. The bell dings and it’s on.
JULIA
I leap to my feet at the sound of the bell. I don’t know whether to yell or cry, my wits strung so tightly I can barely even function at all. I lace my fingers together in front of my face. “Come on, Crew. Come on, baby,” I mutter, watching him stalk towards Hunter.
“And here we go,” the announcer says. “It’s Hunter Davidson in the red trunks, Crew Gentry in the black.”
Macie stands behind me, her hand resting on my shoulder. I can’t take my eyes off the screen as Crew and Hunter paw at each other.
“They’re feeling each other out,” the announcer comments. “Neither of these two want to see this go to the ground already. You must remember, these were two decorated Division I NCAA wrestlers. This just might come down to the better striker.”
“Come on, Crew.” I don’t know what else to say. I know very little about fighting. All I know is watching them circle each other is fraying my nerves one strand at a time.
“They’re both trying to set up their game plans. Each getting the other in position . . . Woah! Did you see that kick?” The announcer’s voice pierces the air.
My insides twist as Crew’s body takes the impact. He throws a hand and Hunter deflects it. Hunter throws another kick and Crew steps to the side. They trade punches and I swear I can feel every one.
“Davidson is trying to work his way inside . . . he ate a big one there!”
Crew lands a huge punch on the side of Hunter’s face and follows it up with barrage of shots. Hunter is knocked back a little but regains his composure quickly.
“Come on Crew!” I say, pacing in front of the television.
“He’s got this, Jules. He’s got this!” Macie says assuredly, but it does nothing to make me feel better.
Crew stalks Hunter around the cage before they land against the fence. Hunter’s back is on the perimeter and Crew is against him, throwing punches against his body.
“Great hook by Gentry, but he got caught with a short shot from Davidson. Gentry appears to be the aggressor, Davidson the more reserved consummate professional, Nate. They’re in the clench position now, Gentry looking for a possible take down.”
“I’m really impressed, Marv, by Davidson’s ability to stay calm. He’s not playing into the grudge match we all expected.”
When the announcer stops talking, you can hear the roar of the crowd. It’s insane and I have no idea how either of them are even able to concentrate, but they seem to be. They’re tangled up and I have no idea who is winning or what they’re doing, the stillness in the action a bit of a relief, yet it feels like it’s drawing out the inevitable . . . whatever that is.
“Davidson escapes,” the announcer says as Hunter tosses Crew off him and makes his way back into the center of the mat. “Smart choice by Davidson to disengage.”
The seconds tick on the clock on the bottom of the screen. Hunter throws a big hand that Crew barely misses as the bell rings, ending the round.
I blow out a breath in relief.
One round down.
CREW
I head back to my corner and try to catch my breath. My nerves are settled down and I’m relieved that I fell back into the fight so naturally.
Will and Sal rush inside the cage, Will shoving a bottle of water at me. He smiles, his eyes alive. “Great job, man!”
“Crew, you look good out there. You have one round down. Davidson is hanging back and hasn’t showed you anything yet. Watch for the takedown and watch for the right leg. He’s gonna come out aggressive.”
“Yeah,” I say, wiping my face off with the towel handed to me by Will.
“How ya feeling, kid?”
“Good. Strong. I live for this shit,” I say, smiling confidently.
“Good. Go out there and do your thing.”
I give the bottle and towel to Sal. “I’ve got this.”
He pats me on the shoulder as they leave me in the ring for round two. I hear the gate close behind me, the crowd’s roar starting to build again as the referee comes back to the center of the mat. His hands go in front of him and we’re off.
Hunter comes at me aggressively, just like Sal said he would. He throws a right-left, which I easily block off my elbows. I counter with an overhand right which lands solid but high on his head. Davidson turns as the punch crunches into him and I don’t see the kick when it comes.
His foot smashes me in the back of the head, right beneath my skull. I bend a bit in response and he kicks again. It takes the wind out of me, sending a spiral of pain through my spine. My adrenaline is so high that I know I’m not registering all of it.
He starts to kick again, but I step inside and blister him with a few shots but I don’t feel the same strength behind my punches.
Something’s wrong.
He comes straight back at me again, smiling. We trade punches, half of them hitting, half not, but it makes for a good show because the crowd’s noise amplifies. We begin to break when he pulls my head forward and slams his elbow against my spine.
Motherfucker.
“Get outta there!” Sal screams at me, his voice riding above the crowd. “That was illegal, ref! Come on! This isn’t a back alley, this is a sanctioned fight!”
JULIA
“That staggered him at a bit,” the announcer comments as Crew wobbles a little as he backs away from Hunter. “You know, it really looks like Davidson is targeting Gentry’s neck.”
“If you recall, Nate, that’s the exact location where Gentry was injured the first time they fought.”
“Wow, I can’t believe Davidson would stoop to that level!”
“Well, I don’t think Davidson thought Gentry would be standing here for round two, either, Nate.”
“Macie,” I breathe, watching Crew get himself together again. She’s at my side, holding on to me. We watch him stalk towards Hunter, but something seems off. Crew’s stumbling and his arms aren’t up as high as they were before. The announcers notice it, too.
“Gentry is a little slower this round, I think. I’m not sure if he’s being more careful or if that kick to the back of his neck hurt him. You have to remember, Gentry hasn’t been in a situation like this in years.”
“Maybe ever,” the other announcer says. “Right now, he’s giving the naysayers fuel that said he shouldn’t even be in the cage with a professional like Hunter Davidson.”
“Fuck you!” I say to the announcer, tears starting to hit my eyes. Watching this is torture. I want to close my eyes and not watch, but I can’t bear to not see what happens.
Macie and I stand together, watching the action on the screen. Crew throws a couple of punches and misses. Hunter takes a step back and taunts him, his arms out to the side, his hips swaying back and forth. He says something to Crew, but I have no idea what. The crowd goes wild at Hunter’s little show and he just plays it up more, like an actor on stage.
I watch with bated breath as Crew goes in for a takedown, something I’ve seen him do a million times. I watch as Davidson’s foot in seemingly slow motion connects with Crew’s face.
He drops to the mat. My stomach falls right along with it.
CREW
I’ve felt this pain once before. Ironically, or not, it was against Davidson that time, too.
The back of my neck burns from the bottom of my head all the way down my shoulders. The pain pierces through the adrenaline that normally keeps any real discomfort at bay during a fight.
Hunter is on top of me within seconds. He throws punches at my face, which I’m able to block easily thanks to many rounds with Victor. He’s on top of me, wailing away, and I know I gotta get outta here. This is not the place to be.
I try to roll him off, but the pain in my neck puts
me back flat against the mat. My elbows are in tight, my hands in front of my face, and I’m rocking back and forth blocking everything I can.
I feel another burst of adrenaline hit, that almost dizzying feeling that accompanies the relief, hitting me hard. I know I have to use it to my advantage. I have a very small window of opportunity; it’s do or die.
Hunter goes to take a side mount, landing huge right hands against my face. I feel the force of every blow, each slap of the leather jerking my neck back and forth.
Davidson’s face is animated, his eyes blazing, sensing the kill. And I realize—that’s exactly what’s happening.
This guy’s trying to kill me.
Fight or flight kicks in and a rush of memories flashes through my mind. I see Jules’ smile, Ever’s eyes, hear Gage’s laugh. I’ve set everything up for this moment, the one where the girls will be okay regardless of how it ends.
I know what I gotta do.
The pain is insane. Everything starts to bleed together, everything one big, giant, fucked up, muffled mess. I strain to find something to focus on, something to keep me present. I hear Will at the side of the cage and I focus on his voice . . .
JULIA
“I can’t believe what’s happening, Marv! In a matter of moments, the predator has become the prey!”
“That’s why people love MMA, Nate! Everything can change in a heartbeat!”
“Yes, but how quickly did Davidson just take over? Crew’s on the mat looking like a beaten man.”
“Come on, baby!” I yell at the television. “Come on, Crew!”
“I don’t know what’s going on with Gentry, Nate. I’m not sure he’s going to hold on!”
Tears are pouring down my cheeks. I glance quickly at Macie and tears are falling from her eyes, too. She reaches for my hand.
The camera gets a close-up of the two of them and I can see Crew’s eyes. They’re wide wild, unfocused, full of some sort of emotion that I’m too afraid to name.
CREW
I’m getting slammed in the back of the head by illegal punches every time I turn my head.
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