Relentlessly Reckless

by Lucy Covington

  “No more of a waste of time than you talking about what a thug Justin is.”

  “That’s not a waste of time,” Adam said. “That’s just truth.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Whatever. If you don’t want me to go, Lindsay, I won’t.”

  I was surprised to find that when she said that, I felt a little disappointed. Which was weird. I didn’t want her to go to Justin’s fight. Nothing good could come of it. But now that she was saying she wasn’t going, I suddenly wanted her to. I wanted her to be there, so that when she came home, I could ask her things. Maybe he’d even see her in the crowd, or they’d talk afterwards, and maybe he’d give some indication of why he hadn’t called me.

  “It’s fine,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You should go.”

  “Lindsay!” Adam exclaimed.

  “What?” I said. “It’s not like I’m going.”

  “You should come,” Rachel said.

  “No way.” I shook my head.

  “Come on,” she said. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious? Don’t you want to see him fight?”

  “No.” Technically it was true. I didn’t particularly want to see him fight.

  But I did want to see him.

  “Come on,” she said. “Come.”

  I didn’t say anything. Now that the idea had gotten into my head, I couldn’t get it out. I wanted to go, even though I knew it was a horrible, bad idea. I was going to end up upset afterwards, I just knew it. But the idea was so tempting I couldn’t resist.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.”

  “Yes!” Rachel pumped her fist into the air.

  “No.” Adam shook his head. “That’s crazy. You guys are not going to an MMA fight.”

  “Why not?” Rachel asked.

  “Because you’re girls! Do you guys even know what goes on at those things?”

  We shrugged and gave him a blank look.

  “It’s crazy!” he said. “People are drinking and shouting and there’s all kind of blood flying.”

  “It sounds fun,” Rachel said.

  “Lindsay?” Adam pleaded. “Please tell her you’re not going.”

  I shrugged, like it was out of my hands.

  “Fine,” Adam said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe how ridiculous we were being. “But if you go, I’m going with you.”

  JUSTIN

  I wasn’t used to having nerves like this.

  My stomach was in knots and I couldn’t seem to loosen up or break a sweat.

  “Come on, JB. Let’s hit the pads a little,” Quarry instructed.

  There was still more than half an hour to go before my fight with Uriah. I was wearing my warm-up gear over my fight trunks, and it was warm. The dressing room was warm too, but I felt tight and a little cold somehow.

  I danced around, jumped up and down in place, willing my body to get some energy going. Why was I so damn lethargic? Was it the lack of sleep?

  Quarry studied me, his eyes intense and judgmental, as if already seeing flaws in my body language. He held up his hands, which were covered by large mitts. “Give me a couple of jabs and a right hand,” he said. “Make them nice and crisp, JB.”

  I affixed my gloves and did as I was told, hitting the mitts with my best technique.

  “Same thing. Do it again,” Quarry commanded.

  I did it, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking back to that night I’d spent with Brooklyn. It had been a mistake. I knew that now, but it was a little bit too late.

  She was in the dressing room, watching me from the other side of the room while she occasionally sent out text messages on her phone. I wished she hadn’t been allowed in, but of course she was—Quarry was her father and she assisted him in the marketing of his team.

  I’d really screwed up.

  “Come on, let’s see a little passion,” Quarry said, holding the pads in a slightly different position to force me to move my hands. “Give me a triple jab, right hook, left hook combination.”

  The punches flew, but my arms were still tight and there wasn’t any snap on the blows. I knew what it sounded like when I was firing on all cylinders and this definitely wasn’t it.

  Why had I been so stupid? After we’d gone back to Brooklyn’s apartment, things had quickly progressed and we’d had sex. It had been fine. She’d seemed more than happy about it—but immediately afterwards, I’d had a crushing sense of regret.

  She’d wanted to get together more than once since then, but I’d been able to make excuses because of the upcoming fight with Uriah. Still, Brooklyn was clearly intent on seeing me again. I could tell by the way she tried to catch my eye all the time, smile at me, wanting confirmation that I shared her feelings.

  I wished it could have been so easy, but I didn’t share any of them.

  I was thinking about Lindsay more then ever now. I’d probably slept less in the last two nights than in the previous week combined.

  No wonder I didn’t have any energy right now. And the fact that this was the biggest fight of my life wasn’t helping matters.

  “Where’s your head at right now?” Quarry asked.

  I glanced over to Brooklyn and she looked down, smiling coyly. Quarry followed my gaze. When he looked back at me, his expression had grown considerably more unfavorable. “Wherever your head is at, you better realize pretty fucking quick that you need to be right here with me.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you? Then hit these fucking pads like you mean it.”

  We resumed our workout. I was starting to loosen up a little bit and the sweat started to flow. A few minutes later, Drew Ellis entered the room. He was dressed up in a dark suit and a white button-down with no tie. He grinned, watching me throw hard punches and kicks at Quarry’s pads.

  “Look at this kid. He’s a fucking beast,” Drew said.

  Quarry glanced at him. “Is that the same thing you said in the other dressing room just now?”

  Drew laughed. “So what if I did? I can’t be partial.”

  “Fuck you. Our guy is ten times better than the other kid.”

  “Maybe so. I hope so.” Drew turned to me. “We’ve got big hopes for you, Justin. How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” I lied.

  “Great.” Drew smiled at everyone. “This is going to be an awesome fight. I’ve never heard so much buzz around an amateur fight like there is around this one. You’d think we were at the main event of a UFF card, that’s how crazy it is. Go out there and put on a show, buddy.”

  “Thanks,” I said, nodding my head as he left.

  A few minutes later, the referee for the fight came in and sat me down, ran over the basic fight instructions and rules. There were always minor differences from one organization to the next and one state to the next. As we spoke, I felt my pulse going up as the reality hit me. We were just minutes away from fight time.

  ***

  And then the roar of the crowd was washing over me as I stood in the cage across from Uriah. The ring announcer stood in the center of the cage with a microphone, touting Uriah’s record of six fights, five wins by stoppage, and no losses. The crowd went nuts and Uriah raised one arm, looking relaxed and confident. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat, which told me that he’d warmed up properly.

  I, on the other hand, was dry as a bone. I’d cooled down after my warm-up, and there didn’t seem anything I could do about it. My stomach was still churning and my heart rate was sky high. This wasn’t like me. Everything was off, everything just felt wrong.

  The announcer’s voice became more energetic, talking about my ten-fight win streak. I’d stopped every opponent and never lost a fight. In truth, I’d never even lost a round up until now.

  I should have been feeling great, the way I normally felt just before battle.

  This was my time.

  I couldn’t understand what had come over me. I tried to rally myself, cajole myself, but nothing seemed to work.

  We went bac
k to our corners just before the fight started. Quarry was right outside the cage, pressed up against it, talking. “Remember to close the distance with your jab. Establish your rhythm, take control. Take control. Work, work, work.”

  I nodded my head, watching Uriah as he stood on the other side of the canvas, watching me with intense focus. He, at least, was ready to go.

  “Let’s get it on!” the referee shouted, and motioned for us to start.

  My legs were like lead as I went forward, trying to immediately apply pressure to Uriah. He circled away from me, hands up, light on his feet. I wondered what his approach was going to be. Would he charge me and try and get inside, make it a dog fight? Try and bring me to the mat? Did he think he could win if we stayed on our feet, throwing punches and kicks?

  I didn’t know. What I did know, was that just behind him, right outside the fence, was my old coach. Coach Jansen knew me better than anybody—knew my strengths, weaknesses, fears, discomforts. In all likelihood, he’d told Uriah all of those things now.

  But what would that mean, in practical terms?

  I was thinking too much. This was made obvious when Uriah suddenly moved towards me unexpectedly, throwing a barrage of straight punches. The first two caught me on the chin and cheek, snapping my head back as the crowd roared.

  Uriah hit damn hard. I knew he hit hard, we’d sparred together and I’d seen him work people over.

  Luckily, I had a good chin. After the first two punches landed, I back-peddled, ducking out of the way of the next few punches. I wasn’t hurt, but I was startled.

  Once he saw that I’d regained my composure, he backed away and started circling the cage again.

  “Take control, take control!” Quarry shouted from outside the cage. “Work, we need you to work!”

  I wanted to work, but my body wasn’t responding. I moved forward slowly, trying to deliberately put pressure on Uriah, since he was moving a lot. If he intended to use his legs to run, he might tire out by round three.

  As I got closer, I threw a hard kick that landed on his thigh.

  “That’s what we need!” Quarry shouted. I could barely hear him over the roar of the crowd.

  As I got closer to pinning Uriah in the corner of the cage, he suddenly threw a high kick. It landed on my ear, and I partially blocked it with my shoulder. Otherwise, I might have been laid out on the canvas like a doormat.

  The crowd ooh’d its approval of the fancy martial arts kick.

  Uriah had a big grin on his face as I took a step or two back.

  “You like that one, JB?” he said.

  I dropped my hands and stuck my chin out at him, clowning a little bit. The fans cheered happily and Uriah’s grin turned to a grimace of anger. He tried to hit me, but I easily avoided his punches and then came back with a sharp counterpunch of my own, snapping his head back.

  The round ended and the ref stepped between us.

  I went back to my corner, sat on the stool, breathing heavily.

  Quarry and Z were inside the cage with me.

  “Give me water,” Quarry snapped.

  Z quickly produced a plastic bottle and put it to my mouth, let me have a sip or two, and then squeezed some of it over my head.

  “Look at me,” Quarry said, trying to catch my eye. “What the fuck was that?”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “You were sluggish out there. You barely did anything until the end of the round. And what was that slick willy bullshit? You’re not Roy Jones Jr., buddy. No more goofing off. I need you to go out there and grind this kid down. You lost that round.”

  I nodded my head. He was right.

  My body was finally warmed up, and although I definitely didn’t feel one hundred percent, I knew I had another gear in me.

  I stood up as the ref signaled us to commence fighting again.

  The second round was different. I pressured Uriah hard. He tried to keep moving from side to side, but I cut the ring off. Eventually, I chased him into a corner and pushed his back against the cage. From there, I went to work, wearing him down like Quarry told me to do.

  I hit him with hard body shots, knees, elbows. I tried to take him down.

  He was fighting back, but I knew it was taking a lot of energy for him to keep me at bay. Now we were in a dogfight, and that was my specialty.

  I liked the pain. I liked the give and take. I would load up and throw three hard punches to Uriah’s stomach and ribs, and he would throw two. If I rolled and took them properly, they didn’t hurt that bad. And if he caught me with a good shot, I smiled and came back harder.

  As the round wore to a close, I sensed him starting to weaken. I smelled blood.

  Something in the look in his eyes, the way his mouth was starting to open to take in big gulps of air, the way he wasn’t responding as quickly to my punches and kicks.

  I was taking over.

  The last thirty seconds, I opened up and threw vicious combinations and caught him on the jaw. His legs buckled and he almost fell.

  The referee was watching closely now, and I knew I was about to stop him.

  I threw a nasty knee that connected with his solar plexus and he staggered away from me, his legs like Jell-O. I came forward throwing accurate punches that landed.

  The crowd was on its feet and I was overwhelmed by the fury and bloodlust.

  Just a few more seconds, that’s all I need. He’s going down.

  But as I moved in for the kill, the round ended and the referee got in between us once more.

  Back in my corner, Quarry was excited, smiling, but still intense. “You’re killing him. You’re grinding him into dust. He’s got nothing left. Keep applying that pressure.

  You good?”

  “I feel amazing.”

  “Good. You’re going to get that contract. Get after it.”

  I stood up, staring at Uriah. He was still on his stool, looking battered and listless.

  For a moment, I heard someone call my name from the crowd. It sounded so familiar, and I couldn’t help but look out there.

  But before I could see who it was, the round started.

  Uriah grimly moved towards me, a warrior willing to go out on his shield. We met in the center of the ring because he didn’t have the legs to run anymore.

  I started to pick him apart from the outside, hitting him with a stiff jab and a nice left hand counter.

  He staggered back.

  In that moment, just over his shoulder, I saw her near the front of the crowd.

  Lindsay.

  I couldn’t believe me eyes. She was here. She’d come to see me.

  Such relief flooded my body. I wanted to run out of the cage and hug her, kiss her, tell her everything—

  The punch caught me completely by surprise.

  I’d taken my eyes off Uriah for just a second or two, but it had been enough.

  I didn’t see it, but I felt it. The canvas rushed towards me as my legs buckled uncontrollably. Distantly, I heard the crowd roaring once more, only this time it was at my expense.

  Uriah was on top of me in a flash, throwing hard punches. I was dazed but still aware of my surroundings. I covered my head as best I could so that I didn’t take too much damage.

  I knew I could survive his onslaught and recover, but I had to be careful for the next minute or two. My body wasn’t properly responding after being hit and momentarily knocked for a loop.

  When he wasn’t able to knock me out, Uriah began wrestling for position. I was still trying to regain my faculties, and in that short timespan, he was able to take my back and wrap his arm around my throat.

  I was fighting to survive now, as his arm tightened around my neck. His legs locked around my waist like a python as he cinched tighter and tighter.

  I’d been here before, in practice. A good fighter practiced for these positions, these moments. I knew that if I stayed calm, I would get out of this situation.

  I could hardly breathe and I was seeing spots in front of
my eyes.

  A little more pressure around my windpipe and I might lose all oxygen and consciousness along with it.

  Slowly, I maneuvered my hand up, snaking my fingers beneath his bicep to create some separation. The tiny gap allowed a bit more air into my lungs.

  But it looked bad. I knew it looked bad.

  What I didn’t know—what I couldn’t have planned for—was it being over.

  Suddenly, the referee was waving it off. Uriah was leaping to his feet and jumping, celebrating.

  I sat up, shocked. “What was that?” I asked the ref.

  “You were out, son.”

  “I never tapped. I was fine. I was breathing.”

  The referee shook his head sadly. “I had to do it. You weren’t defending yourself intelligently or responding to his actions.”

  I wanted to argue, but I knew it was useless. Half the crowd was booing the decision to stop the fight, the other half was cheering Uriah.

  I stood up and made my way to the side of the cage, where Z and Quarry were gathering the equipment up. Neither of them looked happy. Quarry didn’t even acknowledge me.

  Z came over and slung an enormous arm over my shoulder. “That was a bullshit stoppage,” he said.

  “It was my own fault I ended up there.”

  “Yeah…it was.” He smiled sadly.

  A few moments later, we did the customary congratulating of the other team.

  This was not what I wanted to be doing. I hadn’t even allowed it to sink in, the fact that I’d lost. I’d never lost a fight. Never.

  Coach Jansen came up and shook my hand warmly. “You okay?”

  “Yup.” I could hardly look at him right then. “Good fight. Congrats.”

  “I didn’t want it to go down like this, JB.”

  “Okay. Congratulations,” I told him, walking away. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. Uriah was standing there, his eyes lit up with joy.

  “Great fight, man. You almost had me out cold in the second.”

  “You’ve got a ton of heart, Uriah. Congratulations. You’re going to do well in the UFF.”

  “You belong there too, man.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he said. “We both know this is going to happen again.