Take Me On

by Katie McGarry

  “She trained you well.” John never mentions Haley by name. It’s as if saying her name creates pain. Part of me wants to tell him I understand. “Stick with the combinations she taught you, keep up your guard and keep your emotions in check.”

  The wrap is new and John applies it tighter than what I’m used to, but without the gloves, I’m going to need firm. I swallow, thinking how Haley tried to warn me off this. The realness and heaviness of the situation sinks in. The moment I enter the cage, I might as well be dodging traffic on a busy interstate.

  The only solace I have is if the fight does go in the wrong direction that I’m doing what needs to be done. I’m not a man because I’m walking into the cage. I’m a man because I’m standing up for Haley and myself. No more relying on my parents and their money. No more letting a past I can’t control dictate my choices and future. No more being a child.

  I called Mom an hour ago and told her I loved her and I told her to tell Dad the same thing. I made peace with her as she cried and, somehow, I found peace within myself. My lone regret is not being able to hold Haley again and whisper to her those three precious words.

  The door to the small room at the convention hotel opens and Jax in full Mohawk mode strolls in. “After this fight, you’re on deck.”

  John finishes with the wraps and slips his hands into the practice pads. “It’s time to warm up.”

  The official pulls the cap off a black marker with his teeth and signs his name over my wraps. I’m regulation, not illegal, and one step closer to the cage.

  After practicing with gloves, my hands feel naked and vulnerable. John holds up the pads and I widen my stance. Attempting to ignore the nerves, I blow out air. I could kid myself and say this is all for Haley, but this is also for me.

  * * *

  John stands in front of me and I’m flanked by Jax and Kaden. Behind the door to the hotel convention center, I sport hand wraps, a cup and a pair of wrestling shorts. I swing my arms, trying to keep them loose though tension begins to build in my neck.

  Doing a bad job parroting a real MMA announcer, the master of ceremonies comes off like a sleazy carnival gamer as he advertises my weight and city.

  Jax pops his head to the right and opens the door as my name is called. “Let’s do this.”

  The crowd screams and whistles when I hit the floor and stalk toward the octagon cage in the middle. I notice everyone, yet I notice no one. All of it is flashes of color and movement. Music pounds through the speakers, and, in a moment of clarity, I recognize the song.

  I glare at Jax and he’s smiling like a damn hyena. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. You scream Rocky.” He slams a hand on my back. “Get a sense of humor. You’re going to need it in there.”

  John and the ref exchange a few words before the ref motions to me. “Arms up.”

  I do as he asks, holding them straight out to my sides, then widen my feet. His hands skim my body, frisking me for foreign items. A quick scan checks my ears, that I’m wearing a cup and that my nails are trimmed and that the wraps haven’t been tampered with.

  When I’m cleared, John steps in front of me and offers my mouthpiece. I accept it and he moves his mouth as if talking while he applies a coat of Vaseline on my face. The noise in the room mixes together and nothing is clear or coherent. John looks me in the eye and says, “Got it?”

  I nod. He glances at Jax and I don’t miss the subtle shake of his head.

  “Good luck and Godspeed,” says John.

  I walk up the three steps and enter the cage. Nervous adrenaline courses in my veins and I continue to work my muscles to keep the blood flowing. Matt stands on the opposite side of the cage with his back toward me.

  The ref calls Matt over and the son of a bitch smiles when he sees me. “Have you pissed yourself yet?”

  I smile right back. “Fuck you.”

  “Guess we both fucked Haley, huh?”

  A surge of anger rushes through me and I roll forward on the balls of my feet. The ref slams a hand into my chest and shouts, “Do we got the rules?”

  “Got it.”

  “Got it,” answers Matt.

  “Keep it in line,” yells John and I silently curse myself for doing exactly what Haley had warned me about for months.

  The ref claps his hands and slides out of the way. Matt and I extend our arms and bump fists. Haley talked about a peacefulness in the cage. All that surrounds me is chaos.

  Haley

  My heart pounds so hard I have no doubt people can see it past my skin. I fly through the doors of the convention center and a security guard blocks my way as I sprint toward the table.

  “I’m a coach!” I skid to a halt. “Haley Williams. I’m with West Young.”

  “He’s on now,” says the security guard. The girl at the front flips through the paperwork and I will her fingers to move faster.

  A wave of nausea causes tingling in my head. I grab on to the table to stay upright. “How long?”

  “It’s been a while. He’s getting the hell beat out of him.”

  “Damn.” I breathe out.

  “Here!” The girl hands me the yellow pass, the security guard steps out of my way and I’m running again, carrying the badge up over my head, yelling at anyone who tries to stop me.

  The crowd is on their feet, screaming at the two men thrashing it out in the center of the room. Most have taken to standing on their chairs, making it impossible for me to catch a glimpse as I push through to gain access to the front.

  As I get closer, West holds his guard as Matt doles out a three-one combo. The power behind his punch is brutal, and West is able to throw a jab to push Matt back. West ducks out of the way from another assault and is able to gain enough space between them to hopefully create an offensive attack.

  My feet continue to move underneath me, and, as I open my mouth to scream instructions to West, my body rams into something and I stumble back.

  “Only fighters and coaches.” Another security guard obstructs my path, not caring about the yellow badge I throw in his face.

  “John!” I lean around him. “John!”

  John keeps shouting instructions at West and Jax turns his head at the sound of my voice. He jumps off the platform outside the Octagon and points at me. “She’s with us.”

  I latch on to Jax and he pulls me past the guard and into the inner circle. Sitting in the front row, Conner’s eyes meet mine. With the glare I send him, he looks away first.

  “How’s West doing?” I ask.

  “Not good.” Jax hauls himself onto the platform and offers his hand to help me up. “He’s blanked out and not listening to a word John says. West is moving, but he’s getting the hell beat out of him in the process. There’s no way he can last three rounds of this.”

  My fingers curl around the cage and my heart becomes sick. The skin around West’s right eye swells and his lip is busted. His body droops forward and fatigue slows his movements, causing him to drop his guard. Sweat drips off his body like a faucet. “Tap him out.”

  “Thirty seconds left, Hays,” says John. “He can do it.”

  But I don’t want him to do it. “What round?”

  “Second.”

  The metal wire cuts into my fingers. Dear God in heaven.

  Matt mock throws a cross, West deflects it wrong and Matt lunges for his middle. “Get out of the way!”

  The entire cage vibrates as their bodies slam onto the fence. In a smooth, fluid motion, Matt pins West and pounds him, hook after hook to West’s guarded face. West’s knees begin to buckle and if he falls to the floor it’ll be over for good.

  “Knees, West! Use your knees!”

  West

  “Knees, West! Use your knees!” It’s the first clear voice in the chaos. A knee goes up, then another
. A sharp hit into the ribs and Matt stumbles back. I push off the cage, my legs more Jell-O than muscle, but I’ve got to keep going. Three rounds. Three rounds for Haley.

  The bell rings and the ref slides in between us. The world circles and I raise my arms over my head and press my forehead against the cage, fighting for each intake of air. Everything throbs and the exhaustion is enough to cause a loss of consciousness.

  Then there’s a face on the other side of the fence and I swear I’m fucking hallucinating.

  “Where the hell is your guard?” she shouts.

  Damn if she doesn’t sound like Haley. “I’m tired.”

  “Do I look like I care? You’re getting the hell pounded out of you. If you want to tap out, then tap out, but don’t stand there and let him win.”

  I glance around as best as I can with my eye swelling. Does the world see me talking to the hallucination? Does no one give a fuck I’m losing my mind?

  She’s beautiful and strikingly real. “I love you.”

  Her fingers curl around the fence and touch mine. The coolness of her fingertips against my hot skin causes me to close my eyes. Fuck, she seems so real. “Open your eyes, West.”

  I do and those dark, gorgeous eyes dig deep into mine.

  “John, we’ve got a problem.”

  There’s commotion behind me and a hand goes on my arm. “Turn toward me, son.”

  The voice is John’s, but I’m not interested. I’m only interested in what’s in front of me...only interested in her touch. I’m fucking lost in my own mind, but I don’t care. If I turn away, she’ll be gone and I can’t live through that again.

  “West,” she says calmly. “Let the doctor look at you.”

  “You’ll go away,” I answer. “I don’t want you to go away.”

  She presses her nails into me, penetrating deep enough to cause pain. “I’m real.”

  The air slams out of my body and I lose my grip on the fence. “You’re what?”

  John slides in front of me. “What’s your name?”

  “West Young.” I yank my head to the right to see Haley again. “She’s here.”

  “She’s here,” he repeats.

  Another man blocks my view of Haley and he takes my hands. “Look at me.”

  I do. He asks a few more questions and I answer while trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head.

  “Can you fight?” he asks.

  Haley holds on to the fence and stares at me like she’s actually worried. Like she’s actually in love with me. “Fuck yeah.”

  I swing around and face Matt again in the center of the ring with the ref between us. The son of a bitch glances over at Haley, and when he meets my eyes again, I smile. “You ain’t got nothing.”

  “Clean fight, boys,” says the ref.

  “What the fuck did you say?” demands Matt.

  I hold out my fist and Matt bumps it. “I said you ain’t got nothing. No girl and no hit.”

  We break apart and I keep my arms at my sides. Haley spent months drilling it into my brain to keep my head on straight, to keep my emotions in check, because if I lost it, I’d lose the game plan and the fight. The same has to be true with the bastard across from me.

  The yelling, the cheering, the world fades out and a sense of calm washes over me. Two things remain in my world: the asshole in the cage and Haley’s voice. “Guard up, Young.”

  It’ll go up—when I’m ready.

  Matt and I dance around each other and I pump my fist into my chest. “You ain’t got nothing.”

  Matt jerks with the statement and I throw my arms forward and back, begging for the hit. “Nothing. Hit me all damn day. You ain’t got it.”

  Abandoning his form, Matt lunges and I allow the free shot to my head. I turn with the impact and jump back at the same time. Fire consumes his eyes when I smile at him. “Nothing.”

  His crew yells at him and I laugh because they see what Matt doesn’t. I’m mentally taking the show, but Matt’s lost in my words. I nod my chin for him to try again, but this time when he attacks, I pull up my guard, watch as he lowers his, then ram a two-one combination into his face.

  Haley

  “Kick series! Kick series!” I bang on the cage.

  West has taken control and he solidly kicks Matt’s side. Matt doubles over. Good God in heaven, West has struck a knee-bending blow. He could do this. He could stand for all three rounds.

  The ref slides between Matt and West and checks Matt to make sure can continue. My eyes meet West’s and I nod my approval. “Keep that guard up.”

  Matt waves the ref off and West refocuses on the fight. Matt’s trained and he’s experienced. He slipped into emotion and he won’t allow the mistake again. He’ll want retaliation and he’ll want it on the floor. “Stay off the floor,” I scream. “He wants the floor!”

  Matt surges forward and West sidesteps the wrong way. Both of them slam to the ground and the cage vibrates with the impact. The crowd goes insane.

  Matt tries to throw a knee over West to straddle. His elbow and forearm go after West’s air passage and West scrambles to move away, but Matt’s too trained to allow easy release.

  “Kick your hips up! Get under his legs!”

  West thrusts up and Matt crashes into him, sending him back down. He presses his forearm into West’s windpipe.

  “Kick your hips up!” I yell again. “Under his legs!”

  But West panics with the loss of air and his hands shoot to Matt’s arms. I bang against the fence. “Listen to me, Young!”

  The reaction is instantaneous. He thrusts back up again and Matt’s grip loosens. The crowd hollers their approval when West ducks and rolls out of the hold and brings the fight back to their feet.

  Matt and West round each other. The crowd claps in unison, waiting for either to attack. I glance at the ticking clock. “Thirty seconds!”

  Three rounds of three minutes each and the end is near. His first competition and I know he needs to finish it out. Both of them sway with exhaustion. Matt stomps forward and West reacts by jumping out of the way. Matt will go for the knees again.

  We trained for this moment. I dragged West through the mud and back again. At this point, it has nothing to do with strength, but everything to do with heart.

  “Kick series!” I rattle the cage. “Kick series.”

  West wipes at the sweat over his eyes and begins the dance on the floor. His legs switch as he searches for the right moment. Sensing an attack, Matt parallels, then strikes.

  Matt throws a cross and West blocks and lands a front kick into his chest. Matt stumbles and I join the crowd cheering. West continues the attack, pinning Matt against the cage.

  The entire arena stomps on the floor when the bell rings and the ref pulls West off Matt. West circles the cage, pounding his fist to his chest and the crowd eats it up.

  With palms up against the cage, he leans into me. I wish this was the movies. I wish I could rush the cage and wrap myself around him, but there are rules and there is respect and later I’ll show him my love and gratitude. “You did it.”

  West sucks in air and latches on to my fingers that I weaved through the fence. “I didn’t win.”

  “I don’t care.” The decision by the judges against him should be fast. Matt scored more punches. He dominated the fight, but West stood three rounds and he sent a message to everyone within earshot of the cage: West Young has heart and he never gives up. That, in the fighting world, makes him dangerous.

  He rests his forehead against the cage and I press mine against the same spot. Our fingers touch and I close my eyes, wishing we were alone.

  “You’re worth it.” West is black-and-blue and bloodied and swelling. His body has been hammered and brutalized and cut. “You are worth all of this.”


  “I love you,” I whisper.

  The ref approaches West from behind. “Decision’s in.”

  West flashes me that same glorious smile as the first day we met. “I already won.”

  West

  Jax enters the small room wearing a shit-eating grin. Since I walked out of the cage with my defeat set in stone, the kid’s become my new best friend. He tosses another gallon bag of ice to John. “Haley’s about to kick some ass if we don’t let her in soon. How’re you holding up?”

  Sitting in a chair, I’m down to my briefs and John’s adamant his granddaughter isn’t witnessing me exposed. John’s wrapped two bags of ice on my shoulder where something popped out, then repopped back into place during the fight. I hold a bag to my eye, and he sets another one on the knuckles of my right hand. “I’m fine.”

  “Remarkably, you are,” says John. “But I can’t start training you again until you heal. This swelling needs to go down.”

  I rub my jaw, then work it around. There’s not a spot on my body that isn’t pounding and the shock of John’s statement is enough to numb the pain for a second. “Training?”

  “Payment due on the first of the month and you’re required to practice at least five days a week.”

  “Bullshit,” coughs Jax. “He requires seven.”

  John checks the bag of ice on my shoulder. “You’re not tapping out after your first fight, are you?”

  It hurts to smile. “No, I’m not.”

  “Good.”

  A knock on the door sends Jax into a laughing fit. “I told you, Hays, you aren’t seeing him until he’s got...” Jax swings the door open and the words fade away.

  He scratches the back of his neck and chances a glimpse at me. “It’s some guy claiming to be your dad.”