Micah poked his head out of the door, catching the attention of the security staff hired to man the locker rooms. “Hey, do me a favor, bro. Can you call the medic for me? Also, if a woman comes by named Alice, let her in. I don’t want any other visitors though, okay?” The burly security man nodded his head in understanding, as he went across the hall to the medic’s office for some help.
Micah slipped back into the locker room, ducking into the bathroom to wash off the rest of the blood from his neck and chest. The door behind him opened, as he continued to remove the grime. “Hey Martha. I think I’m going to need stitches or something. But can we just stick to a bandage. I’ll get it taken care of tomorrow.”
“You should probably get that taken care of tonight.” The voice was unfamiliar, yet somehow ingrained in his memory. It was melodic, almost teasing. It certainly didn’t belong to the medic. Micah spun around, as he held the blood soaked towel to his cheek. Standing in the doorway was Alice. Dressed in red from almost head to toe, she looked like a glowing ember of a still lit fire. “I didn’t know you were hurt. I could come back or meet you later. I just wanted to get your autograph before you forgot,” she said.
She turned backwards towards the door, but Micah was faster. He jumped over the bench and ran barefoot towards her, blocking the door with his body.
“I certainly didn’t forget,” he responded. Alice stepped backwards, wary of how imposing he was now that she could see him in better light. Specks of fresh blood still lined his chest and new welts and bruises mingled with his black tribal tattoos. She wanted nothing more than to reach out her hands and trace the marks with her fingertips.
“How bad is the gash on your face?” she asked.
He removed the towel for her to study. She swallowed hard as images of her own battered face and body haunted her memories. Bravely, she stepped even closer, reaching out a hand to turn his jaw towards her. Her green eyes softened a bit, as she caught him wincing at her touch, as if he was equally afraid of what she may do to him.
Alice blinked quickly and recovered. “You are going to need stitches. Where is the medic or your coach? Shouldn’t they be here attending to you?” she said. She turned her back towards him as he followed her light sway with his gaze. She placed herself down on the wooden bench as he joined by her side.
“Medic is on her way. Coach, well, I kicked him out. I’m not in the mood for visitors,” he said. She felt a bit hurt and motioned to stand. He grabbed her arm once again, pulling her back towards him with his powerful grip. “I wouldn’t call you a visitor. I made a promise to you.”
She smiled nervously, as she pulled out her ticket from her pocketbook and handed it to him. “Then, I’ll take your autograph and be out of your—” The door of the locker room spun open as the two turned to face the noise of shouting and yells.
“What the hell, Micah! We need to talk. You can’t just kick me out of my own fighter’s locker room.” Dean was furious, his square face blushing and bulging with the rush of blood.
“Can you please move? I need to see him.” Martha, the medic from before was just a few paces behind Dean, carrying a medical kit, gloves, and an attitude. She pushed past Dean and headed straight towards Micah on the bench. Neither of the two seemed to notice the woman sitting on the bench.
Dean continued to yell at Micah, scolding him for sticking security on him. Martha interjected a couple of times to remind him about wound care and his need to get stitches as soon as he was able. The noise and commotion bubbled to a fever pitch as more trainers and match officials slipped into the room, surrounding Micah and pushing Alice further and further away.
Alice stood up, quietly walking towards the exit, her heels giving her away. With that, something snapped within the fighter. Pushing his hands out from within the center of the group, he stood. “GET OUT.” His voice was low and terse, as he focused his glare onto his coach. When the group continued to move towards him, he repeated it again, this time in a fierce, meaningful roar that sent shivers down Alice’s spine and kept her in her place, as the rest of the crowd dispersed outwards and into the hallways.
Alice broke the silence, as Micah stared at her. “That happen a lot?”
“No. Only when I win.” He was honest. Normally, a loss would mean a quick trip to the locker room and a race to the bus to clear his head. This time, all he wanted was to share those precious seconds of solitude with Alice.
“You probably shouldn’t win then, at least not like that.” She winked and smiled, as he motioned for her to return back to the bench. She sat closer to him this time, as he caught a long look at her pearl white, untarnished legs. The naked skin popped against the bright red of her dress.
In the distance, a buzzer sounded and a scream from the crowd went up. Both listened to the announcer proclaim a winner in the third fight.
“Do you want to go back out there? I’m sure the guy you came with is looking for you.”
She snorted a quick laugh. “If he’s looking for me, I’d rather be in here. I didn’t come with him. He was forced on me.”
“Really?” He lifted his eyebrow curiously. “I wouldn’t think anyone could force themselves on someone like you.” She blushed a bit at the implication. He was both so right and so wrong.
“My friend Caroline is probably worried about me though.” She nervously glanced down at her phone, unsure of what to say. It was blank, and she knew it. Caroline was covering for her as Alice pretended to slip out to the concession stands. The boys hadn’t given her a second glance as she left, but she was sure that they would start to wonder where she could have gone the entire duration of the last matchup.
“Tell her that you’re with me. I can get you home safe.” His wicked smile had reappeared, taunting her into submission.
“Is that a threat or a promise? It’s hard to tell with you.” There was some truth in Alice’s words. While she’d put aside all of her qualms and reservations to meet up with the fighter in his abandoned locker room, she wasn’t sure if she could fully trust him outside the arena.
“It could be both. But I’d rather it be a promise. Come out with me tonight. I did just get paid, you know.” He laughed at his own joke in an innocent, childlike way.
“Where would you take me with a cut like that?” She pointed out the obvious impediment to their night, the large bandage on the side of his face.
“I’ll get it fixed tomorrow. Tonight, I want to go out and celebrate. And I want it to be with you.” Micah studied Alice’s serious face, hoping it would change and she would give in. He was sincere in that there was nothing he would rather do than to spend the rest of the evening with her. She wasn’t budging, so he tried a new approach, “Steak dinner? Drinks out at the casino? Dinner and a movie? Come on, tell me what you want to do with me, and we will do it.”
That was a loaded question Alice wasn’t prepared to answer honestly. But his perseverance was endearing. “Fine,” she whispered, as she looked down at her hands once again. “You can take me out for dinner and a drink.” Strands of her blonde hair fell onto her face. She glanced up at him between the fallen locks, and their eyes connected once again, as they had back at the fight. This time, it wasn’t anger, fear, or desire that clouded Micah’s mind. Instead, the tiny flakes of golden brown danced, as he became elated.
Alice excused herself to go find the rest of her group. She wasn’t sure what lies she was about to tell to get out of going home with Pete, but she had a feeling Caroline would have a plan.
Weaving through the departing fans, she spotted Pete’s red hair among the rest. He turned upon seeing her. “Where were you? I was fucking worried.” He didn’t appear to have sent out a search party. Instead, he just looked irritated and mildly suspicious. Alice found herself more and more disgusted.
“I ran into an old friend.” She stumbled over an excuse, realizing it may be her ticket out. “They invited me out for dinner, and since I haven’t seen them in years, I am just letting you know that I am g
oing. It would be rude of me not to take them up on the offer.” Lies, lies, lies. And even worse, Pete could tell.
“Really? An old friend? Here at an MMA fight?” She nodded her head slowly, looking around for Caroline or Jace… anyone who could break up what was about to happen. “You know, whatever. Go do your thing. I’m not sure why I wasted my time with trash tonight anyways.” He hauled off in the direction of the parking lot in a huff, smashing the glass door open.
She took a breath. That was the hard part. Getting Caroline on board should be a breeze. She pulled out her phone and messaged her roommate her location only to be found by her and Jace moments later. Alice pulled Caroline to the side, out of earshot of Jace, and explained Micah’s offer.
“You’re fucking kidding me. I KNEW IT.” Caroline lost her grip, as she shouted at Alice in disbelief. “I’m not going to stop you, but are you sure it’s okay? Can you at least text me if you’re not going to be back home by midnight?” Alice was touched by Caroline’s somewhat hypocritical concern. She promised to fill her in on the details and inform her of any juicy developments. The two parted with a hug, as Caroline led Jace out of the arena in search of a still-steaming Pete.
Despite knowing that it hadn’t been a dream, she still raced back to the locker room, hoping Micah hadn’t suddenly changed his mind or found someone more his type. But when she returned, he was still there, pacing the floor while on his phone talking to someone about his win. She took his distraction as an opportunity to take him in once more. In her absence, he had put a t-shirt on, the first time she had seen him with his chest covered, and he had also switched from his shorts to a pair of dark jeans. He practically looked normal to her apart from the gashes and the tattoos that lined his still visible skin and face.
“Nah, I’ll see you later... I’ll try to stop by tomorrow, okay? … Yeah. I promise... Okay… You too... Bye.” He hung up, stuffing the phone in his back pocket, and took a long look at Alice standing by the exit.
“Am I keeping you from someone?” She had grown a bit wary after hearing how affectionate his voice had sounded on the phone.
“Not at all.” He couldn’t look away from her. It was as if she would vanish in a flash if he did. She was mouthwatering, the way she rested her hands on the deep curve of her hip. The color of her skin reminded him of snow, and he was ready to dive in.
However, Alice was less distracted. She had figured he wasn’t exactly in the crowd to be honest, chaste, or faithful. But hearing him talk made her jump back to her senses. This was not what she had wanted. He watched her, as she looked away sullenly towards the floor.
“I’m not lying to you, you know. I don’t do this… thing. Dating. I don’t see women. I don’t take them out for a dinner. I don’t pursue them.”
“Yeah, so then what do you do?”
“I fuck them, and then I leave them.” He was blunt, and she could appreciate it, but Alice was still taken aback by just how casually he said it.
“Is that what you plan on doing with me?” She looked and felt like a deer caught in headlights.
He moved towards Alice, taking her hand gently. Then, he steered her towards the exit, as they walked outside through the side locker room doors. After a long minute, he stopped and turned back towards her. He searched her eyes, hoping to convey some of the truth he was feeling. “No. I’m not going to do that.”
She nodded, understanding.
The two walked away from the stadium and out to the streets and sidewalks. The night air enveloped them, as Alice continued to hold the victor’s hand.
Chapter 7: All In
“For someone who doesn’t date, you sure seem to know what you are doing.” Alice felt completely out of place at a restaurant like Evangeline’s. The soft, dim music, the white table cloths, and the unimposing waiters were a total departure from her regular weekly trip to a burger bar down her block. Even for a date, Micah had pulled out all the stops ordering mussels and champagne.
“Just because I do not date doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to treat a woman right.” He smiled, as he opened his first mussel briskly. Using the tiny fork, he attempted to dig in, completely spilling the content out onto the table top. He groaned, almost embarrassed, as Alice giggled at his struggles. Seeing him attempt to hold a miniscule fork in his large, manly hands had put her to tears.
“Are you seriously laughing at the man who is buying you dinner?”
She tried to stop, only finding herself laughing even further at his plight. “I’m sorry… It’s just that… It’s just that… Here was this man, a practical killer in the ring, and he is being defeated by a dead sea clam and a little fork.” She again started laughing, as she hid her face behind a napkin.
He slid back into his chair and studied her. Her laugh was as infectious as her voice. While normally he’d be insulted and turned off by her blatant ridicule, he couldn’t help but join in. The two were in near tears as the waiter came around with the bottle of champagne.
“Let’s see you do better.” He slid the pot of mussels closer to her. She grabbed two from the pot and used the empty shell of one to pry open the other. She then used the shell again to grab hold of the mussel’s meat and feed it to herself. Micah watched in awe as she did it so confidently, as if she ate mussels every day.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” This woman was full of surprises.
“Paris. I studied art there years ago. I haven’t had mussels since then though.” She slowed down her movements, showing him how to use the shell as miniature tongs.
“I would never have guessed you were an artist.”
“I wouldn’t guess that I am either. I’m a waitress. I haven’t painted in months.” Alice couldn’t even remember the last time she talked about painting.
“Why did you quit?” His question wasn’t out of line nor unpredictable, but it caught her off guard.
“Um, well, I was in an accident, I guess.” An accident sounded innocent enough. “I just couldn’t get back into it after that. Didn’t have the right inspiration.”
Micah could tell that he was stepping into new territory with her, perhaps even crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. “An accident?”
She slumped her head downwards, unsure of how to proceed. Micah could spot her reluctance and placed his hand on to hers. His hand was warm to the touch. She could feel the calluses, as he rubbed the inside of her palm.
She gave in. “I was walking home from work one night when a man jumped at me from behind an alleyway. He held me around the waist until I let go of my purse and jacket. He wanted the ring on my finger, but I couldn’t let it go.”
Her voice broke at the thought of her father’s ring in the hands of someone else. “So, he punched me and threw me to the ground and began kicking me until he was able to pry my hands open and take it from me. I was in the hospital for a while with a broken hand and a couple of fractured ribs. After that, I didn’t feel like painting much.”
Micah was completely taken aback by Alice and her story. She told it like it was nothing, but it clearly had affected her greatly. His silence tore a hole in the conversation, opening wounds Alice wasn’t ready to really reveal.
She quickly stammered on, “You probably think I’m silly… this upset over a mugging.”
“I don’t think you’re silly. I think you’re brave. I think you are stronger than you think.” He meant every word.
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Micah found himself aware that Alice’s story was more than just that. He actually felt for her. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to go hunt down the man who did it. He needed to do something. His knuckles grew white as they gripped the chair. An idea quickly came to mind. “I can teach you to fight.”
“What? Me? I don’t fight. I don’t even argue, really.” Alice was telling the truth. The last thing she wanted to do was walk away with more scars and an injured ego. She was perfectly fine with being the meek and mild g
irl, afraid of darkened alleys.
Micah’s mind was still racing at the possibilities. “Do you want to get out of here?” Before Alice could answer, he was flagging the waiter down and requesting the bill.
“Where are we going?” Alice asked. The two hadn’t even had dinner or really touched the champagne.
“To the gym. You need to get in the ring.” As he quickly tossed money into the waiter’s billfold, he once again grabbed her hand, and the two were off. The valet flagged down a cab as Micah barked directions to his arena.
“Micah, it’s late… won’t the gym be closed?” She had a good point, but he quickly pulled out his key ring and brandished a key.
“I like to train after hours on my own.” Micah had spent many nights training alone in the still and empty gym. He paid a premium for the solitude, but it was worth every single penny.
Tonight was no exception. The expansive gym space was deserted for the evening. A few lights remained on, including one spotlighting the boxing ring in the center of the room. Micah headed straight for it, grabbing a pair of gloves from a box and a blue, body sized mat from a closet.
Hooked (The Submission Fighter Book 1) Page 5