by Jessica Ashe
“Not tonight,” Duke said. “Tonight it’s the unveiling of a future UFC star. We’ve pulled out all the stops; now you just have to go out there and do the business.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It is,” Duke insisted. “You’re better than that guy.”
“He looked pretty good in the video footage we have of him.”
“You’re not scared, are you?” Gayle asked.
It was an obvious tactic, but I took the bait. “No, I’m not fucking scared. Let’s just get out there and get this all over with.”
“That’s a bit more like it,” Duke said, giving me an encouraging pat on the back before they both left the locker room.
I’d lied. I was scared. Not of the fight, but of the future. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine a future with Nora in it, and that scared the hell out of me.
She hadn’t been in touch since I bailed on her after we slept together again. I didn’t blame her, but a part of me hoped she would come by the gym again anyway.
I could have apologized to her, but I’d never have been able to explain what I’d done and why. I couldn’t even explain it to myself.
All I knew was that I had to get this UFC contract. And then I had to fight Tyler. Simple really, but it would take years, and I’d risk bodily injury on an almost weekly basis. I couldn’t put Nora through all that.
And if I lost, then things would just be even worse. I’d have to keep fighting in Duke’s gym for a pittance. Nora deserved better than that. She deserved better than me.
Nora would be starting work soon. She’d be a white-collar worker, and she’d meet men with money and careers. Real careers. They’d live in houses where she wouldn’t need to fear for her safety when she walked alone at night.
Once outside the locker room, the noise of the crowd hit me just as hard as any of my opponent’s punches ever would. Duke and Gayle were on the microphone getting them all riled up in an attempt to make it into a big show.
I had to block all that out. I had to block out a lot of things, most of all Nora.
My opponent was already in the cage, bouncing around to show off his energy to the crowd. Most of the regulars here were supporting me, so he got his fair share of boos, but he let them soak in and used them to spur him on.
I waited impatiently for Duke to announce me, and then let the two blonde ring girls—the double-teamers—escort me to the cage to the sound of cheering and music so loud and deep it was a wonder it hadn’t set off half the car alarms in the city.
Elliot Michaels was the first opponent I’d ever considered physically intimidating. He was slightly taller than me, but not as bulky. I had more strength, but that extra reach would definitely work to his advantage.
The biggest advantage he had over me was his mindset. One quick look in his eyes and I could see that the only thing on his mind was this fight. He didn’t have a woman in his life who occupied his every waking thought. He was free.
I’d been like that once.
Those were the days.
The referee—Jim, the owner of a bar just a few blocks away—gave us a quick lecture on the rules, which essentially just consisted of ‘try not to kill each other unless absolutely necessary to win, and no blows to the balls.’
There was no handshake between the fighters. We moved to our end of the cage and waited. I shook my head from side to side and bounced around on the spot to loosen up my muscles.
“Okay gentleman,” the referee yelled out, trying to make his voice hear above the noise. “Let’s fight.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nora
Alison had finally convinced me that Riker could not be a part of my future. When she left later that evening, I had no intention of seeing Riker again. Ever.
That lasted for about three hours.
Duke invited me to the fight. I declined immediately, but then had second thoughts. What if the fighting wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined?
If I could handle Riker fighting, then there could be a future for us after all. If I sat through this fight and resisted the urge to leave as soon as things got bloody, I might be able to convince him—and myself—that there was still hope.
Duke hadn’t gone to much effort to keep the fight a secret. People were just strolling into the gym from off the street, and they clearly weren’t there to work out. A security guard did a quick check for weapons, but otherwise everyone was allowed to stroll downstairs to the fight without so much as a second glance.
If the cops ever did want to take this place down, they wouldn’t have to go to much effort either, other than buying a twenty-dollar ticket.
The underground area looked completely different from when I’d last been here sparring with Riker. When I’d been down here, the cage had been the only thing of note in the entire room. It still took center stage thanks to all the lights illuminating it, however what really captured the attention was the boisterous crowd surrounding the cage, already baying for blood even though the fight hadn’t started yet.
Small time bookies operated around the outskirts, frantically taking cash from willing gamblers who mostly seemed to be putting their money on Riker. At four to seven on, he was the clear favorite to win.
What did winning even mean in a fight like this? Presumably the other person could concede. Or did they have to be knocked out first? Would the referee step in if the fight became too one-sided?
A quick glance at the referee milling around in the center of the cage answered that question for me. He was overweight, and out-of-breath just walking around the ring. He’d never be able to step in and stop Riker from destroying his opponent if that’s what it came to.
“Nora.”
I just about caught my name being called out over the din of the crowd. I looked in the direction of the noise and saw the crowd parting as someone made their way through. Not many people could make a group of large men move out of their way so quickly.
“Hi Gayle,” I said cheerfully as she appeared next to me.
“I’m so glad you came. I must admit, I didn’t expect you to, but Duke knew you’d make it. I do hate it when he’s right.”
“This is a big night for you and Duke. I want to support you both.”
“It’s a big night for Riker as well. Are you supporting him too?”
“Of course.”
“See that guy in the suit in the front row?” Gayle said as she pointed to the only person in the room dressed as if he had come straight from a high-powered job. I nodded. He was hard to miss. “That man is a scout from the UFC. If he’s impressed by what he sees here tonight, Riker could get a contract that will change his life.”
“You mean he’ll go from fighting in this cage to fighting in a cage in another location?” I said dryly.
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. But he’ll be paid a decent amount for it. Certainly more than what we pay him.”
“In that case, I hope it all goes well.”
I didn’t even know if I was being honest. I didn’t want to see Riker lose or get badly hurt, but the alternative didn’t seem like a great outcome. He’d be paid more, but he’d put his body on the line against talented fighters week in, week out. Was that what I wanted?
What would happen if the scout wasn’t impressed with what he saw? Riker would keep fighting anyway. He didn’t know any other way of living. Fighting was his life, and it always would be, regardless of my position in it.
“Why don’t you come and sit with us?” Gayle offered. “You don’t need to be all the way up here. We’ve saved you a seat on the front row.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine up here,” I lied.
I hated it. In the ten minutes I’d been standing here, I’d barely been able to stand still for a second without people squeezing past me or flat out walking into me as if I were invisible. And don’t get me started on all the stray hands that had ‘accidentally’ grazed my ass in the shuffle.
“You don’t want to get t
oo close to the violence?” Gayle asked.
I nodded. I didn’t even like being in the splash zone when I watched a whale show at Sea World, and that was just water. I sure as hell didn’t want to risk getting splashed with whatever fluids flew around during a fight.
That wasn’t the only reason though.
“Don’t tell Riker I’m here,” I said to Gayle.
“You didn’t tell him you’re coming?”
“No. I don’t want to distract him for the big fight. Not that I would distract him, but, you know…”
“I wish I did know,” Gayle replied. “What happened between you two? One minute the two of you could barely make it through a training session without tearing each other’s clothes off, and now you don’t speak. Did he do something stupid? If he cheated on you, I’ll fucking—”
“No, no. Nothing like that. We’re just not going to work out. Two different worlds and all that.”
“Bullshit. If that was the case, it would make you a snob, and I know you’re not. And Riker wouldn’t think that way, because he’d have to be bloody stupid to turn down a woman like you. Okay, so he can be a little—”
Duke bellowed Gayle’s name from his position down near the entrance to the cage.
Gayle rolled her eyes at the unwanted interruption. “We’re going to continue this conversation. But for now, duty calls.”
Gayle went down to the front and met up with Duke, before heading to the locker room area at the back.
When they both came back out, the fight was ready to begin.
Riker’s opponent had a lot in common with Riker, judging by the description from the announcer, who looked in even worse shape than the referee. Where did Duke find these people?
Elliot Michaels had also experienced a rough upbringing, and had spent time in prison, before getting his life back on tracks through fighting. The parallels to Riker were uncanny.
The crowd greeted Elliot with a loud chorus of boos, but Elliot soaked it in and used it to psyche himself up. Even after all my training, I couldn’t pretend to know that much about real competitive fighting like this, but it was obvious Riker had a fight on his hands tonight.
Now it was Riker’s turn to walk up to the cage. I spotted him standing in the doorway with two blondes hanging off his arms. They both whispered seductively in his ear, no doubt letting him know what reward he’d be getting after the fight. The thought of him with them made my stomach crawl.
I’d never been fazed by Riker’s past experience with women. I can’t pretend I enjoyed thinking about it, but it didn’t bother me that much. We all had our pasts, and I wasn’t about to judge him for his. He’d been through enough.
The women took the robe from Riker’s shoulders, and escorted him to the cage as cheers drowned out the awful music blasting from the bassy speakers.
Riker had been naked with me, so I didn’t think his body could hold any surprises. I’d been wrong. When we’d trained, Riker had always worn a tank top and sweatpants. Now he was shirtless, and in a pair of shorts that were tight enough to set my imagination on fire as I pictured his muscular thighs from the last time I’d straddled him.
While Riker and Elliot were similar on paper, they had a completely different attitude in the way they approached the cage.
Whereas Elliot had been cocky and aggressive—feeding off the crowd’s negative energy—Riker had a serious, sullen look to him. His mind looked elsewhere, and if it weren’t for the blondes on his arm, he might not have even made it to the cage at all.
At least he wasn’t looking into the crowd. I shrunk down slightly so that I could only just see over the top of the guy in front of me. I couldn’t let him see me.
Despite all the noise, the sound of the cage door shutting after Riker had stepped through, reverberated around the room like a deafening explosion. No one else seemed to notice it.
The referee gave his little speech to the fighters and then backed away. According to Riker, the only rule was to not hit the crotch. Typical men and their priorities. Unfortunately, Elliot didn’t look like the type who paid much attention to rules.
This was it.
Come on, Riker.
I wanted him to win. There was no conflict in my head now. I wanted him to win, and win quickly. Get this over with.
The bell rang.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Riker
I knew Elliot would be a challenge from the second the bell rang.
He didn’t do anything. That was always a bad sign.
From the outside, MMA in a cage might look a bit like boxing, but it was nothing like it in practice. Whereas in boxing it was common for the competitors to size each other up in the early stages, in cage fighting, it was more typical for the opponent to come speeding in hoping to make an immediate impression. There was little subtlety or intelligence in this game.
In every single one of my past fights, I’d managed to get an early upper hand by using my opponent’s early aggression against him. Sometimes I would be able to dodge out of the way and then throw them behind me for an early introduction into the cold metal surrounding the cage.
Other times I would just keep on my toes and let my opponent throw punches and kicks at the air until they’d tired themselves out enough for me to move in for the kill.
Elliot wouldn’t go down that easily. We danced around the circle of the cage, sizing each other up, but neither willing to make the first move.
I almost smiled as I mentally compared the situation to that of Nora and me when we’d both liked each other, but neither had wanted to be the one to take things to the next level.
Then Nora had brazenly invited me up to her room. Everything changed at that point.
The punch hit me out of the blue. I’d been staring directly at Elliot but my mind had been elsewhere. My head didn’t snap back, but it was enough to daze me, and break the chance.
“Wake the fuck up, Riker,” Duke yelled from just outside the cage.
Elliot could—and would—punch me harder than that. He looked as surprised as me to find my defenses down. He’d probably suspected it was a trap. I wish.
There was nothing like being punched in the face to wake you up a bit. Suddenly I remembered I was in a fight.
I missed Nora, and hated the way we’d left things, but getting beaten up wouldn’t help matters.
We both went back to circling the cage, but this time I used the opportunity to spur the crowd on, raising my hands in the air and encouraging them to scream my name. I hoped the noise would deafen me and drown out all thoughts of Nora. It didn’t work.
Now wasn’t the time to think about Nora. Now was the time to fight. So I fought.
I narrowed the gap to Elliot. With one quick step forward I could land a punch on him, but he could do the same to me. Time to shit or get off the pot.
I stepped onto my left foot and faked to throw a punch with my right fist. He fell for it, dodging a punch that never came. Instead, my left fist swung out and landed on the side of his face as he ‘dodged.’
My left hand wasn’t as strong as my right, and the bait and switch had left me off balance, but that first punch always hurt like hell.
Elliot reacted quickly. He let the momentum of my punch swing him round to the side, and swung out a leg, kicking me hard on the back.
I had more than enough muscle there to cushion the blow, but it sent me staggering forward leaving me exposed from behind.
My previous opponents would have rushed in right now, desperate to capitalize on an advantage, but Elliot kept his distance and used the time to recover from my first punch. This guy meant business.
The crowd was getting restless already. They weren’t used to see me taking things slowly. Usually I had the upper hand already. I could have let the discontent wash over me, but I enjoyed having them on my side.
After tricking him with that last punch, I knew Elliot would be suspicious of my every move. I advanced towards him and positioned myself to throw an
obvious right handed punch.
It couldn’t have been more signposted and obvious. Elliot assumed it was another bluff and didn’t move. Perfect.
My fist slammed hard into his face. This time it was my strong hand, and I had perfect balance. That one was going to hurt.
Elliot went staggering back until he came to a rest on the side of the cage. He’d have been better off falling to the floor and trying to swipe me off my feet.
With his back against the cage, he had nowhere to move and I had temporary control. The only tough bit was deciding exactly what to do. I settled on landing two more punches to the face; one with the right hand and one with the left. There would be plenty of time to get body shots in later.
Elliot was a good-looking guy and good-looking guys didn’t like getting their faces ruined. Elliot wouldn’t be the first person to lose the mental battle because of concern over his looks.
I should have known Elliot wouldn’t go down that easy.
* * *
“You’ve got the upper hand in this,” Duke insisted. He always gave a similar pep talk halfway through the fight so I’d heard it all before.
Gayle did her best to clean up some of my wounds, but one on the head was bleeding heavily and I knew it wouldn’t stop before I went back out for the next round.
“The scout’s impressed,” Duke continued.
“He might be impressed with Elliot,” I pointed out.
“Maybe,” Duke agreed. “But you’re a better fighter. It’s good that Elliot’s giving you a challenge though. It just makes you look better.”
Gayle finished cleaning me up and dried the sweat from my face. I squinted and blinked my eyes to get my full vision back. There were no black eyes yet, so I still had my sight at least. It wasn’t uncommon for an eye to swell up and make the fight a hell of a lot more difficult.
I surveyed the crowd to check out the mood. They were still on my side, but some of them were getting nervous. They didn’t particularly care about my well-being; they’d just put large bets on me winning.