Alexi smiles, and pats my shoulder. “You can’t fault me for hoping, right John.”
“With Jack Korlos refereeing I have no problem with the outcome. Are we still fighting UFC rules for this?”
“We have to, John. I wouldn’t be able to get a bout on pay-per-view even overseas if we don’t have some order in the cage. I have legitimate judges. Jim Bonasera will be doing the master of ceremonies stuff. Ray Alexander will be kept out of the way, although I believe he will be betting a modest sum against you as usual.”
“That’ll be the least of my problems tonight.” We reach the cage, and Alexi veers off with a wave. I nod at Jafar as he walks up next to us. “Hey kid, looks like you get some TV time tonight. That Alexi, he’s such a sweetheart, ain’t he, T?”
Tommy chuckles as we get set up inside the cage. “Alexi knows his stuff.”
“I have been watching Dixon, John,” Jafar tells me, getting our equipment bag sorted out. “I am glad it is you who will be fighting him. I wish Dev and Jesse were here to give you tips.”
Devon Constantine and Jesse Brown are the other members of my fight night crew, but we have a business to run. “Don’t worry about it. You and Tommy keep your eyes open. I’ll be okay.”
Big O has taken his seat to the right of our position, first row front. He’s yelling insults, drawing big laughs from the crowd. I’m not popular here for some unknown reason, except with the cops, and the waitresses around the area. They usually bet on me. Some of the stuff O is howling in my direction starts to tighten my jaw a little, so I get loose, moving and swinging. Then Dixon makes his way into the cage with his entourage. He’s a legitimate UFC candidate, so he stays out of steroid land. Six and a half feet tall, two hundred eighty pounds, with dynamite in both hands, Dixon’s the real deal. I would have had to fight him sometime anyway. Dixon stays quiet until the crowd noise lessens. Then he mouths off in a way I did not expect.
“Hey Harding… what, no Lora? What’s the matter, you afraid she’ll root for me? She is one tight little piece.”
I feel Tommy’s hands on my arms, but I’m not saying anything. I had a few thoughts about ground and pound, and strategy for stand up. Change of plan.
“While you’re recovering in the hospital, I’ll go keep Lora warm and safe. That cute little girl of hers is just the sweetest thing. Does she sleep in the same bed with you two?”
“Jesus,” Tommy mumbles.
Alice is like Jafar’s little sister. I barely have enough time to grab him as he launches. “Easy kid!”
“Maybe you better let the kid take your place, Harding,” Dixon jeers. “I bet it would be a better match.”
I smile as Tommy gets Jafar back in line. I plan on being everything Dixon ever dreamed of in a match. We were fighting under UFC championship rules – five rounds instead of three. Dixon better start praying I’m dead because I plan on taking him the distance. I see the tight look on Jack Korlos’s face. He’s been listening to Dixon intently. Jack begins his pre-fight inspection with me. Jack’s wearing a grim look.
“Don’t make me sap you, kid,” Jack says as he checks my gloved hands and body.
I look him dead in the eye, because I respect him. “If I do, don’t take it personal.”
Jack chuckles. “I won’t, but I still won’t like it.”
Jafar puts my mouthpiece in as Jack walks over to Dixon. It’s minty. Neat. “If you are in the hospital after the fight, John, I will put a bullet between his eyes.”
Okay. That’s not good. It’s ruining my buzz. I grab him, getting an inch away from his face. “Concentrate on the fight, kid. Remember Samira, and all the stuff I’ve taught you about this crap. If there’s even a hint of danger with me incapacitated, do you really think Lora and Alice would need protecting?”
That sobers him up. He pats my hand. Jafar knows I have people around me who will make Dixon’s last moments on earth legendary. “I’m sorry, John. Dixon zapped me with the Alice dig. I know better than to not think.”
I’m right there with you, kid. “No problem. It’s all pre-game hype, my friend.”
Tommy, who knows me all too well, juts up into my face. “If you kill him we ain’t ever fighting in the UFC ever.”
I smile at him. I like pain. I like big mouth, no account, cheap ass thugs like Dixon. Apparently, Dixon thought what happened to Van Rankin was a fluke. It’s party time, and no amount of reasoning is going to change that. “I’m good to go, T.”
Tommy grimaces and backs away, pulling Jafar with him. “C’mon kid. No use reasoning with the Dark Lord. We’ll be watching for clues, DL.”
I acknowledge with a wave of my hand as Jack strides to cage central. I let the filmy red haze of violence shimmer over my head. See, I don’t scare. I don’t bleed a lot, and I don’t get knocked out. That only leaves one course: to endure. That’s where the fun begins. First though, I have to get some quick payment. I know Dixon comes out every match on the attack, a swarming, heavy punching barrage. It usually garners fear when some of those punches hit home. He comes on loud and heavy. Tonight… it will only be for a moment.
Korlos asks us if we’re ready. When he gets affirmative nods, Jack starts us. Dixon charges at me ready to counter anything. I’m willing to take the head strike he launches to trade a little peach of a shot I’ve been working on. I remain motionless as if in fear until he’s only feet from me, ready to knock my head clean off my shoulders. At the last second I drop down slightly, and rip death and destruction up under his ribcage while absorbing a couple of his shots. Oh mama, it feels like home. Those shots wake up the big mouth as air intake is reduced to gasps. I leg whip Dixon. Caught unawares, his head bounces. I could have followed it up with some ground and pound, fight ending elbows or fist strikes. Not tonight, brothers and sisters – we’re going to the promised land of pain.
Dixon stumbles up to his feet in a feeble guard stance. I can tell in his eyes he’s wondering why the hell I didn’t follow him down. I give him a clue. While feinting a left hook, I pull back and launch a roundhouse right leg kick to the side of his head that drops him like the sandbag on an old time gallows. I don’t follow, although Dixon rattles around on the canvas like a turtle on its back in the desert. An unusual silence has overcome the crowd as if they’re sensing this is judgment day for Dixon. They’re right in a manner of speaking. He’s in purgatory, the place between heaven and hell, but I ain’t sending him on his way yet.
Our referee, Jack Korlos, looks over at me with an uneasiness I’ve never seen on his face before. That’s his problem. I have my own problem – how to keep Dixon awake for the rest of the movie. I dance around the ring, hands up in fistic defense as if worried the turtle could shoot up off the canvas and clock me. If Dixon had a brain, he would have stayed motionless and let Jack end the fight. Hey, he’s a fighter - an irritating big mouth who doesn’t know when to fight and when to spew his verbal hype, but he’s a fighter. Dixon works his way back to his feet.
I see in his eyes he knows the game now, and he doesn’t like it. His crew shouts out directions, and plans that ain’t ever going to work. The one he takes to heart is run, Forest, run. Dixon does laps around the ring, feinting strikes with me in the middle. I decide on a little playacting myself. I drop my hands. I simply stare at him while he’s circling like an impotent shark. The crowd starts roaring insults and encouragements, but that’s not what this is about. The round ends, heralded by catcalls from the audience.
Tommy and Jafar work over me in silence, toweling me off, and patting the small cut on my eye. They’ve heard the bells ringing on judgment day too, and they have no idea what to say. I’m certain if they’d seen something special about Dixon, they’d be warning me of it. Tonight, it wouldn’t matter. Dixon mentioning Alice to get the fight was low. I chalked it up to hype, especially since Alexi explained about him seeing his granddaughter and Alice together. That last shot Dixon took about my wife and stepdaughter to rattle me sticks; because hey, I kill people. Many times I don
’t even get to know the reason. Tonight, I have a reason.
Tommy pats my shoulder. “You’re good to go, DL.”
“I have nothing, John,” Jafar adds. “I am liking this fight very much so far though.”
I glance back at Jafar. “Buckle up. If you liked the first round, you’ll love the second.”
I notice something as I stand with the warning horn. Dixon’s up on his feet, pounding his gloves together as if he couldn’t wait to get at me. I look back at Tommy with a grin. “Dixon got an uplift, T.”
“I see it,” Tommy mumbles. “You’ve been here before, John. The only thing I’ll add is that the fight would already be over if you had ended it.”
“Yep.” I clap my gloved hands together. “It should make my carrying this piece of shit easier in the last four rounds.”
“Do not play with this man, John,” Jafar chimed in. “Anything could happen. Why do you take such chances?”
I turned on Jafar. “Who’s playing, kid?”
Jack motions us up, readies us, and indicates the beginning of the round. I smile as Dixon comes at me in deliberate attack mode. He lands jabs, and crosses, speeded up by whatever he got served in the corner. I’m with him, and the round proceeds more in a manner Dixon had hoped for. Only one problem, I don’t plan to let this round end without a little extra drama. My left hand jab is like getting hit with a trip hammer. Yeah, I work on it. As round’s end approaches and Dixon’s confidence builds, I start zapping him with my jabs. It shocks the crap out of him. That’s when I leg whip him again. I smile as his head hits and bounces. The problem for my boy Dixon is that I follow him to the canvas, and for ten seconds I blast him with real hurtful shots. I stay away from the obvious head shots, and smash rib shots into him from both sides until the bell sounds. I stand up away from him as he rolls gingerly to the side and stumbles to his corner. Oh yeah, baby, it is so on.
Tommy’s grinning when I get to my rest spot. He’s shaking his head, but he’s liking it. Jafar remains quiet, taking out the mouthpiece, and giving me a quick swig of water. Tommy towels me off, applying coagulant to my numerous bloody spots. What’s the use of conversing? I like my crew. If they had anything relevant, they’d be shouting it in my ear. I’m watching Dixon real close when I get a glimpse of him. He ain’t happy. Only two rounds in, and I’m afraid that’s only the beginning. Pharmaceuticals will help, but after the last round, Dixon’s beginning to realize he’s been paying for his verbal insights. This round is where I take all confusion out of the mix.
Jack motions us into action. Dixon thinks I’ll be satisfied with status quo. I don’t think so. He comes out hands high. I smash a beauty side kick into his midsection that sends him into the cage wall. I back off as I watch him writhe in pain. I drop my hands again, with no pretense. If there was any chance someone thought I wasn’t carrying this two bit, shithead, I wanted that to end. Dixon scrambled to his feet, looking around as if he didn’t have a clue where he was. I smash my hands together. It’s the third round. Let’s start working for some understanding.
I can tell in moments Dixon got another pharmaceutical uplift. His eyelids are blinking big time. I’m grinning because the four hundred cycle speed hummer he’s got going on after his corner visit ain’t going to help him. I meet him in the center throwing hands. Difference is I don’t care about pain. I embrace it like a long lost friend. Yeah, it’s disturbing. So is a lot of reality about me. I pump a left hand jab into his red eye express as he moves forward. It jolts him back to reality with stumbling acknowledgment. With his attention diverted to protecting his head, I smash one of my leg blasters to the side of his knee. It buckles, and Dixon drops. I don’t follow. I move to my left slightly and roundhouse his head again. This time I think I’ve miscalculated at first, but the turtle in the desert stirs, getting to hands and knees while looking around without recognition. I let the time run out in the round without another strike. Jack Korlos’s wearing a grim look. Hey, not everyone in the arena can be happy.
Tommy’s looking a bit solemn too. He wipes me down quickly as Jafar takes out my mouthpiece and gives me a sip. “I didn’t think it was possible, John, but you’re making me start feeling sorry for that pug across from us.”
I don’t answer. Sometimes a bill comes due, and payment can’t be deferred. Not wanting to upset Tommy, Jafar merely pats my shoulder as he sticks my cleaned up mouthpiece back in place. I get on my feet for the fourth round. I notice it’s still really quiet. Neat. When Jack motions us to get started, I come in all business. I work Dixon’s body without pause. I take his flurry of shots in stride. He bloodies me, but nothing will stop my body shots. My right hand lands under his heart, catching him coming in, and I hear the rib crack.
Dixon, white faced, stumbled back against the cage wall, trying to pass enough air to stay on his feet. He can’t block the straight on forward kick I follow up with. It shatters his nose. Dixon goes to his knees. I see already I may not have pulled enough off the kick. It’s an inexact science. The good part is I don’t have to pummel him for another round. The bad part is I don’t get to pummel him for another round. I slam into him, getting a rear full naked choke. Two seconds and Dixon will need a séance and a Ouija board to communicate with. Jack pokes me in the forehead with the sap, screaming in my face.
“Don’t, John!”
Damn it. “He hasn’t tapped out yet, Jack.”
Jack snorts, trying not to smile. “That’s because he’s unconscious. Let him go, kid.”
I release Dixon. Jack lets him fall face first while signaling the match was over. He holds up my arm. Dixon’s entourage leader makes a run at me, the idiot. I drop him with an overhand right like an afterthought on bowling night. Tommy and Jafar are at my side in a split second, but Jack’s already got his security crew in the cage corralling Dixon’s hangers-on. The med team is next. A deathly silence hangs over the arena. I turn to Tommy as the medics go to work on Dixon.
“Let’s get the hell out of here. I have a sour taste in my mouth only Bud and Beam can cure.”
“That was better than sex,” Tommy whispers. “Good Lord did you rack him up. You were going to carry the poor bastard for five rounds, weren’t you?”
I nod with a sigh as Jafar eases my gloves off. “The whole five rounds if I could. I got excited when he thought that speed ball he took in his corner was going to make a difference.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I will go over to your house and send Lora to the Warehouse, John,” Jafar says with a smile while stuffing my gloves in the equipment bag. He hands me a towel soaked in peroxide. “Samira and I will stay with Alice. Take your time.”
I use the peroxide towel to wipe myself down. “Thanks. Tell her to stay home and call me instead if she doesn’t feel like coming to the bar.”
“I will.” Jafar walks in front of me with the equipment bag after I pull on my sweats, while Tommy takes up a position in the rear. We head for the cage exit.
Chapter Four: Deal With The Devil
Fiialkov’s waiting for us with Earl and ‘Rique. The PD looks happy, so they must have bet on me anyway.
“I am very sorry about the unfortunate things Dixon said to you, John,” Alexi states right away. “I warned him not to provoke you. He is an idiot, and very nearly a dead man.”
“I know that wasn’t your game plan, Alexi. I see you have my security team ready for the walk out to our cars.” I shake hands with Earl and ‘Rique.
“They told me you had business with them at the Warehouse Bar. I will call ahead. Your tab is on me. Enjoy.”
“Thanks, Alexi. See you next time. May I ask one more favor?”
Fiialkov turns back to me. “Certainly.”
“I see the Big O waiting for me down there. If you want him to leave the arena alive, get him out of my path.”
“I will take care of it, John. Wait here a moment.”
“Great fight, John, if that’s what you call that annihilation,” Earl exclaims as Fiialkov g
oes to Big O, points one finger at him, and the O heads for the exit without a word.
“From the looks on your faces, you must not have heeded our warning to lay off the betting.” It’s clear sailing through the arena. The crowd’s too stunned to indicate how they feel about Dixon’s judgment day.
“We decided to bet the five hundred you promised us,” ‘Rique explains. “Odds were only two to one by fight time when we bet. You coming with us, Tommy?”
“Yeah, between saving Gronk’s life from the Dark Lord this afternoon, and watching that jackass Dixon nearly yap his way into hell while ending our UFC shot, I definitely need a drink. Do you guys have a driver for tonight?”
Earl glanced back at Tommy with a nod. “We have a newbie lined up. You want a ride after we hoist a few?”
“Forget all that,” I say, waving a hand. “We’re celebrating. We’ll have Dev and Jesse ride over when they wrap up for the night. What’s the use in having a limo if you don’t use it?”
“Oh hell yeah,” Earl agrees. “Let a brother ride.”
* * *
My Warehouse Bar waitress friend, Marla, greets us when we sit down at the bar.
“I heard all about your night, Champ. Why in the hell do these guys say stuff like that?”
“You have to have an ego to be dopy enough to fight in the cage, Marla,” I explain while she sets out all our drinks. We’re all regulars. She knows what we want. “Some guys lay waste to a bunch of fighters and lose perspective, and their survival instinct gets blocked. You can bet Dixon heard about what Rankin said to me in Dubai. He decided Rankin’s method was right, but he just didn’t go far enough.”
“Yeah, that worked out real well for him,” ‘Rique added. “Did you bet anything, Mar?”
Marla laughed. “Oh hell yeah. I got in when it was even odds. Fiialkov already called and told me you gentlemen drink for free. With what I made tonight, I would have kicked in for a free one, but now I don’t even have to do that. How much you guys take in, T?”
“I stayed conservative on this one, because we were giving odds. We made about five G’s. It would have been much more if I’d known that imbecile Dixon was going to commit suicide by mouth. He shocked the hell out of me. John’s probably right about the reason, but damn, that was one righteous beat down. Here’s to the Dark Lord.”
Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 34