Hold

by Jayne Blue

  “You see it, don’t you?” Sawyer asked her, “The way it’s shaping up? the 21C League guys are going to love this shit.”

  “What?” She didn’t really know what he was getting at.

  “Fighting Flynn versus The Preacher’s Son. Light versus Dark. Luke versus Darth Vader baby. And your boyfriend, yeah, he’s Vader.” Sawyer chuckled at his own description.

  But he was right. She hadn’t really wanted to believe it would be Craddock versus Zeke, but it was shaping up that way.

  Craddock’s last opponent for the day got him good above the eye with a punch that split open the skin and started bleeding. It was terrible looking and she winced each time his opponent went for it.

  “That’s the game, Cassidy. Flynn’s the better striker and better on the ground, but his opponent got him good and now he’s going to keep hitting there if he can. Just like real life, it always hits ya in the soft underbelly. That’s why I love this sport.”

  “How can Craddock even see?” She was worried as the blood trailed down his face.

  “No idea, they’ll fix him up at the end of the period.”

  And sure enough, she heard Whitey yell for “The Kit.” Their trainer hopped in and got to work on Craddock’s cut. She watched through half closed eyes as they put something cold on the cut, then some sort of paste, and then a bandage. She winced as they squeezed and pulled on the open flesh. Craddock did not.

  He was, however, clearly pissed. He charged out in the next period. A kick, a jab, and another kick later and the other guy’s face now looked like hamburger meat. Cassidy couldn’t help it, she put her head on Sawyer’s shoulder to shield her eyes from the blood bath. She felt him pat her head.

  “It’s okay, kid, you can look up. Your boyfriend just finished the job.”

  She looked up and Craddock was standing in the middle of the ring, hand held high. His opponent was being helped to his corner. Craddock congratulated him and then bounced over to her.

  “Just for you, pretty.”

  She couldn’t help herself, she smiled wide. It was the first thing he’d ever said to her when he’d squeezed Barton half to death in front of her the day she’d walked into GWG looking for a job.

  “I think you won.” She replied back.

  His smile beamed from his sweaty, bloody face before he was whisked off to sign the bout sheet and shower.

  “You two kids are cute.” Sawyer, her big biker boss, commented.

  “Thanks, boss.”

  “Let’s see now, who else we got? Barton and G-Man — they’re our other GWG guys right?”

  “Yes, sir. Looks like Darius Brown is out and so is Flannigan. Both on second round losses while we were watching Craddock.”

  Unfortunately, Barton was out, too, but G-Man was still fighting. G-Man destroyed his two opponents. Sawyer said it wasn’t half bad, but he was clearly pleased. GWG would have guys in the finals of two of the five weight classes. They’d have three fighters in on Saturday. Unfortunately, in her mind, it would be GWG versus GWG when Craddock and Zeke faced off.

  She was glad Sawyer was impressed. Great Wolves L.L.C. were “the money,” as Whitey said, so keeping them happy was good for her job. Craddock versus Zeke, however, would be hell on her nerves.

  Craddock

  He showered and packed up while listening to Whitey assess today and tomorrow. He could almost taste his dreams of being in the 21C. For one second, he imagined what it would be like to be under contract and earning six figures. Endorsements? Well, that was the big money.

  That’s where he stopped. He had one more fight. He’d only looked at one fight at a time today. He didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself. Whitey always said to fight the man in front of you. If you started thinking about the next fight, the guy you were ignoring could take you out.

  But they’d looked at the brackets. Forty men in five weight classes had winnowed down to ten. There would be five championship matches Saturday — one in each weight class — and of those ten men, three were from the GWG Grand City. Whitey was pretty excited.

  “This is what I’ve been saying all along. We got the best guys in the country. That’s what I’ve been saying.”

  “Yeah, coach.”

  G-Man had made it out at heavyweight. He’d made it. And of course, Zeke Powell. Fucking Zeke Powell had executed his plan just like Craddock had killed his own. The last two guys standing in light heavyweight were him and The Preacher’s Son.

  He did his best to avoid Powell all day as he focused on the men in front of him, but still he kept one eye on Powell.

  He walked out with Whitey, who had decided to give him a laundry list to remember about tonight.

  “Eat healthy, not too much roughage. You don’t want to shit your brains out tomorrow. Stay hydrated. Also I want you to eat a late breakfast, then meet me in lobby.”

  Whitey droned on and as they exited the locker room under the arena. That’s when he saw her. She was waiting at the end of the hall. He was glad to have her there, to know he had her cheering for him. As he watched her from a distance, another figured stepped up behind her and she turned to hug him.

  Zeke Powell.

  He quickened his pace and Whitey ran after him

  “Hey, hey! I’m trying to tell you what -”

  As soon as he got close to Powell and Cassidy, she took a step backwards. Was that guilt? Zeke Powell, however, stared him down.

  “How many fucking times do you have to be told to keep your hands off her?” Craddock said.

  “Cassidy doesn’t need your permission to talk to me. Or anyone.” He stepped forward, chest to chest with Powell. They were about to go, right now, in the hall.

  “Hey! Craddock.” A hand pulled on his shoulder tried to pull him back. Craddock shook off Whitey. He was going to show Powell right now. But it wasn’t Whitey. He realized too late that he’d shaken off Cassidy and she went tumbling to the concrete floor.

  Powell got around him and was first to her. Whitey was second. Craddock stood there, feeling like shit. He would never lay a hand on her, she had to know that, but there she was on the floor because of his rage.

  She stood up and he didn’t have words. Whitey did.

  “Flynn, your temper is going to get you kicked out of the 21C League before you even get in. Cassidy, are you okay?”

  “Yep, I’m fine.”

  She looked shaken, and what hurt more, she looked afraid of him. He hadn’t wanted that. He was just trying to teach Powell to stay away. Powell, the saint, helping her up.

  “Women, it’s always women, no offense, Cassidy.” Whitey looked exasperated and old in that moment. Craddock wanted out of there. Away from Powell and this whole scene the saint had caused.

  “Cassidy, come on.” He put a hand out, she stepped forward and took it. Good. That was good. At least she hadn’t bolted. He didn’t need this right now.

  Powell stood up, squared his shoulder, and gave him major attitude.. It was a challenge Craddock was about to accept, but Whitey stood between the two fighters.

  “Powell, Flynn, this is exactly why I’m not going to be in either of your corners tomorrow. For some reason, I can’t figure out why I like you, Flynn. And of course I like you Zeke. So both of you pick an assistant coach. I’ll be neutral. Cassidy, you take him out of here.” Whitey started muttering something Craddock couldn’t decipher.

  “Let’s go.” Cassidy said, dragging him toward the doorway.

  When they got to his car the air was as tense as it had ever been between them.

  “I’m sorry.” He said. He meant it, but it didn’t seem like nearly enough.

  “Okay. It’s okay.”

  The clipped way she said clued him in that things were anything but okay. He’d fucked up again. But he’d make it up to her after tomorrow. After he got that fat check from the 21C signing bonus. After he finally beat the living shit out of Zeke Powell.

  Cassidy

  When someone shows you who they are, believe them
. That was the phrase that was running through Cassidy’s mind as they went back to their room, even as Craddock apologized. In the end, she knew it was an accident, knew he would never hurt her, but still, his temper had her on the ground. If Bess knew that, she’d be handing her a million reasons why this relationship was wrong.

  Craddock did everything right. He kneeled down and wrapped his big arms around her legs after they were alone in the hotel room.

  “I’m so sorry I knocked you down. I am so sorry.” She kissed the top of his head and he stood up. She looked at his face. It was battered from the day and his blue eyes had something in them she’d never seen before. Fear.

  “I know. I am not mad. I forgive you.” The fear immediately receded, she saw. But her fear had taken hold. A little kernel of doubt that he was too much, too big, too angry, too much of everything for her, started to bloom when she saw him lose it again with Zeke.

  When someone shows you who they are, believe them. She didn’t want to believe anything bad about her relationship with Craddock Flynn.

  That night, neither of them got much sleep. Craddock was as wired as she’d ever seen him when they woke up. She didn’t really know what to say to him. She was worried. This fight meant everything to him and he seemed to be off balance. And it was her fault. If he wasn’t so jealous all the time, he could focus. He could just fight. But instead, the rivalry with Zeke had become bigger, more intense, and in her mind, unnecessary. Zeke was her friend, but Craddock couldn’t see it.

  After their late breakfast, Craddock was going to a local gym, something that she’d arranged for any GWG fighter who’d made it to today. There, he would workout lightly, stay loose, and keep distractions to a minimum. Whitey had told her to put that together in all the preps she’d handled. He knew he’d have a fighter in the finals. He had three.

  Luckily, Zeke Powell’s army of family/fans handled getting a gym for him and he wouldn’t be at the same place. Score one for the Christians, she thought. It was clear that keeping the two fighters away from each other was a very good idea.

  Craddock had her drive him to the gym. They saw that Whitey was already there.

  “Go get changed, let’s get you loosened up.” Whitey ordered.

  Craddock gave her a light kiss on her cheek.

  “Good luck, Craddock. I love you.” She said. It felt almost like he needed to hear it today. That he needed more reassurance than she’d ever seen.

  “I love you, too.” He turned and headed for the locker room.

  “I thought you weren’t taking sides?” She asked Whitey.

  “I’m not. Coach Boggs is with Zeke, and his whole family, as you can imagine. Jessie and I, well we think of Flynn as ours, more or less.” Cassidy’s phone buzzed from inside her bag.

  “Excuse me a second, Whitey.”

  It was Bess.

  “What’s up?”

  “You’re not going to believe this, but can you get to Wayne U’s Detroit offices today?”

  “What? Well, you know I am in Detroit right?”

  “That’s what I was counting on. Get this, the student who won the grant decided to change majors and rejected it late yesterday. They have to designate a recipient, paperwork signed and all, by Monday morning or Wayne U loses the grant money and some program funding. They’re scrambling.”

  “Um, what are you saying?” Cassidy’s heart was beating faster.

  “I’m saying you pretty much have the grant if you can meet the professor today, do an informal interview, and sign the papers. You were the runner up for this thing and the top kid ran off to some other major!”

  “Oh my God.” She couldn’t believe it.

  “Right? It’s meant to be. You’re in the right place and this is the right time. I’m going to text you directions to the office. They have your transcripts and I’m your reference. Good luck and get moving. The professor is coming in especially for this. University admins ordered him to so they don’t lose the money.”

  “Will do. Thank you Bess!”

  A year of schooling, paid for! That could make things so much easier for her next year. Plus, it was a job in her field fresh out of undergrad. She knew that wasn’t something every college kid in Michigan could say. This was her dream, coming true, if she could just get over to Wayne U.

  And that’s when it dawned on her — Craddock, the fight. He’d be so upset if she wasn’t right where she said she’d be. Bess’s text with the directions came through. Shit. She’d have to go right now and Craddock was still in the locker room.

  She mapped it out in her head. She’d go now and if she was lucky she’d get back in time.

  She knew Craddock would want her to go after her dream. He’d always supported her, from getting her to use the work computer, to giving her space to study. Anytime she’d pointed out that she had goals too, he figured out a way to show her he respected them. And now was not the time to talk to him about this. So, no debate, she was going.

  “Whitey, can you tell Craddock I might be just a little late for the fight? Something’s come up, but I promise I’ll be there. I don’t want him to worry.”

  “Yeah, sure, fine.” Whitey said.

  Cassidy ran out to Craddock’s car. Thank God Whitey insisted he drive Craddock in the van to the fight. The car was free. This day was turning around. Maybe both of them would have their dreams come true on the same day.

  Cassidy figured she looked nuts, driving through Detroit alone with a huge smile on her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  Craddock

  He was ready. It was time to get this fight going. The hours leading up to it were slow and excruciating. Whitey drove him to the venue and he stayed away from everyone else.

  Cassidy would meet him for a few minutes before he got taped up. That was the plan. But where the hell was she?

  He was about to call her when she showed up at the last second before he started his final warm-ups. The arena was packed. The pressure was on and she couldn’t be where she was supposed to be, when she was supposed to be.

  “You almost missed it.” He barked at her.

  “What? I’m here. I didn’t miss anything.”

  “Where were you? I was texting you all afternoon and nothing. What the fuck, Cassidy?”

  “I’m sorry, I had a surprise meeting.”

  “A what?”

  “Don’t be mad. I’ll tell you all about it after.”

  Was she lying? What kind of surprise meeting does his girlfriend have in a city she doesn’t live in? This seemed like bullshit and it was not the time for bullshit.

  “You need to tell me now.” He raised his voice.

  “Or you’ll what?” She gave it right back.

  “That’s not what I meant. I told you, I was sorry. Are you seriously being this way right before my fight?”

  “Being what way? I came in here, like you said, to wish you good luck.”

  “Hey, you too. Knock it off, Craddock, go on, it’s time to get taped up.” Craddock wanted to settle this, find out what was up with her, but Whitey was right. It was time.

  “You better go, Cassidy.” Whitey ordered her out.

  She looked hurt and confused. He had a pang in his chest as she turned to go. Nothing more was said between them.

  Craddock got dressed and ready for his weigh in. Whitey said the 21C guys were going to be there as all the finalists faced off for pictures. This was his moment and he needed to grab it.

  As he let Whitey give him advice about the fight, he wondered what advice Powell was getting. Stay away from his strikes probably. Powell and he were pretty evenly matched on punching and on ground game. Powell was weaker on submissions was weaker, but he had an edge on Craddock with his take down defense. It was going to be hard has hell to get him to the mat. But if he did, Craddock would choke Zeke out, he knew it. He visualized it. He ran through the way he wanted to fight with Powell and tried to forget the fight with Cassidy.

  Whitey ushered him and G-Man into t
he media area. Each fighter would get weighed in and then pose for a head to head photo. The fighters were separated on two sides of the room, organized by the bracket they’d emerged from. Craddock figured he wasn’t the first fighter to want to rip his opponent’s head off before any bell rang, so the contact was limited between them all.

  Then a man he’d been waiting to meet his entire life interrupted his murderous train of thought. He was tall, wide, and had iron gray hair. Despite that hair, he looked like he could go in the ring with any one of them. It was none other than the President and founder of the 21st Century Fight League, Meyer Thompson.

  Thompson’s money, promotion, and business sense turned the league from a second rate afterthought to one of the most commercially successfully sports leagues in the country. He could make or break the career of any man on either side of this room.

  Thompson walked up to Craddock. Shit, Craddock knew this was his future staring him in the face.

  “Craddock Flynn. I watched you yesterday. Not really any challenges, but I like your intensity. Let’s see if you can bring it today.”

  “I will.” Craddock looked him in the eye. He wanted Thompson to see he had the balls to do it. You didn’t get into the 21C by being shy or scared. Craddock was neither.

  Thompson stared back and then moved on to the next fighter. Craddock knew what he needed to do was win, win decisively and violently.

  It was their turn, the light heavyweights. First they weighed in. He was 197. He saw that Powell was a bit lighter. Good. It was muscle and Craddock had more of it.

  Craddock stepped up to the piece of tape on the ground. Zeke did the same across from him. He clenched his fists and his jaw. He wasn’t sure if he could hate a guy more at this point — playing the nice guy card all the time while weaseling his way close to Cassidy.

  Powell was ink free, blonde, and looked surprisingly cut free. Craddock knew he looked scarier, ink on his back, cut eye, and well, rage. It was there and the focus of it was Zeke Powell.