C’mon, you big son-of-a-bitch.
Mc Claskey approached and held his gloves close to his face. From what I could see in the first rounds, he didn’t have much to counter my speed. Ripp, Kelsey, and Kace probably thought I was crazy in the first four rounds. I had to see what this big fucker was made of.
He’s strong as fuck.
He’s soft.
And he’s slow.
I stepped in close and switched to southpaw.
Here’s where I belong, big boy. Coming at ya with this.
I swung a right hook into his ribs. As he exhaled what little breath might have been in his lungs, his face had a look of surprise that his eyes couldn’t hide.
I swung a left cross that caught the bottom of his jaw. As he turned to try to take me to the ropes, I stepped in close and clenched him, holding him still.
What, you big muscled up prick? You don’t like fighting? You wanna wrestle?
He should know I don’t like to push and shove. I let go and pushed him off.
I came here to fight.
I unleashed a series of punches to his mid-section - an unanswered barrage of hooks and jabs that would have dropped any previous fighter in my career.
I swung an uppercut, and barely missed his jaw.
Shame…
On.
Shame…
On.
The crowd cheered my name. I have never been a vain person, but the crowd was something that I have never heard before. I hate to admit it, but I liked it. The chanting provided me with a reason to show this big fuck what I came here for.
He attempted to get me off of him with a right jab. An uppercut followed. Both were dodged without much effort. I stepped back to his right, and swung a left hook into his ribs.
Oh shit, that felt like it cracked.
I’ve always said the eyes don’t lie. And his didn’t. He was hurt.
I knew what was next.
Lord. Prevent me from…
I swung a right-left hook into his torso.
Killing…
I threw a series of jabs to get him off balance.
This big bastard.
I threw a signature left hook at his ribs. He body twisted to his right, and both gloves came down for a fraction of a section. A fraction is all I needed.
I swung a right uppercut that connected directly with the bottom of his jaw. I followed with a left jab that connected solid with the front of his chin. His chin came down just a touch and his gloves dropped completely.
Everything went to slow motion for a moment. I heard the crowd cheering my name. I heard Kelsey pounding the mat, indicating the end of the round being only seconds away. And I heard, clear as day, Mike fucking Ripton scream.
You got this, Dekk!
A few times in my career, I have thrown a punch and regretted it. After it is thrown, it’s impossible to stop, especially by someone with my speed and strength. The right cross I threw at Mc Claskey’s temple was one of those punches. As soon as I threw it, I realized he was already unconscious. The punch connected on the left side of his temple. His head looked as if it was going to snap off of his neck.
And he fell to the mat.
And he did not move.
I vaguely remember seeing the referee step in. I turned toward the crowd. Everyone was on their feet, cheering. I looked back at Mc Claskey.
And he did not move.
The referee waved his hands.
And I realized that I had gone the distance. Not in this fight, but in my career - and with Kace. The Heavyweight Championship of the world was next. From what I had read, several million people were watching this fight on Pay-Per-View. Without a doubt, I would be a household name overnight. The title fight would bring millions of dollars, even if I lost the bout.
Mc Claskey moved his head.
Thank you Lord.
When they finally got Mc Claskey to his feet, I heard the announcer before I noticed all of the people gathered around me. And it sunk in.
I have actually won.
“…of the sixth round. By knockout. The winner, Shane Shame on Dekkar.”
As Kace stepped into the ring, my dog tags dangling from her clenched fist, I saw the look of pride in her eyes. And I further realized, not only had I won this fight - I had clearly won at the game of life.
KACE. I have felt a wide range of emotion in my life, but I have never felt the emotion I felt when Shane’s name was announced as the winner. I realize the potential upcoming Championship was a huge fight, but I really don’t care if Shane ever fights again. This fight, to me, was the big fight.
“Shane, what’s next for you? Where do you go from here?” the television reporter asked.
There were cameras and microphones everywhere. Shane had his arm around me, holding me close to his side. I clutched his dog tags tight in my hand. Ripp and Kelsey were both standing on Shane’s left side. I realized what the announcer asked, and waited to hear what Shane would say in response.
“Well, I’ll have to consult with my manager, my trainer, my sparring partner,” he paused and slapped Ripp with his taped hand.
“But, ultimately, I’ll have to consult with my little woman,” he pulled me close to his side and paused.
The microphone immediately moved in front of my face. The reporter bent down and asked, “So, ma’am, what’s next for Shane Dekkar?”
A million thoughts ran through my head. Shane made it this far, because he was a fighter. He fought not for money, not for fame, but to survive. He had told me that he had demons, and the fighting allowed him to live. Out of the ring, Shane was the nicest man in the world and I couldn’t imagine him being any other way. If what he said was right, the fighting permitted him to be who he was in his life. The fighting allowed him to clear his head of all of the things that potentially made men evil.
Now, the answer, to me, was clear.
“I, uhhm. I’ll say this. If Shane decides to challenge the Heavyweight Champion of the World, he has my blessing. I’ll leave that decision up to him,” I almost whispered into the microphone.
Shane pulled me tighter to his side.
“So, what will it be Shane?” the reporter asked.
“That’s all for tonight,” Shane said.
“No more questions,” Kelsey said as he stepped in front of Shane.
The reporter stepped aside and signed off to the camera with a few last words. Shane, Ripp, Kelsey and I walked to the ropes, and ducked out of the ring onto the floor. As we began to walk toward the aisle, Kelsey eagerly started to talk to Shane.
“So, Shane - that Championship fight. What are you thinking?” Kelsey asked.
Ripp and Kelsey both turned to Shane as we walked up the aisle.
“I’m not even thinking about that right now. I’m thinking about someone else’s ass I got to beat,” Shane said.
“Oh?” Kelsey asked.
“Kace’s,” Shane said.
“For digging through the god damned trash,” and he stopped, bent down, and waited for me to put the dog tags around his neck.
KACE. When I was young, I dreamt of being swept off of my feet. I hoped that one day, there would be a boy that would love me, cherish me, and treat me with respect. As I got older, my visions of how that person would act, what he would look like, and what he would do to and for me changed. In recent years, thoughts of whether or not it would ever happen diminished.
Until now.
“A Kace Meadows? Is there a Kace Meadows that works here?” The delivery man asked as soon as he stepped through the door. His shirt said F. T. C.
I couldn’t even speak. I opened my mouth and…
No words.
I raised my hand.
“Are you Kace Meadows?”
I tapped the desk once.
Shit, he doesn’t know that code – one for yes, two for no.
I nodded eagerly and pointed at my chest.
“Okay, sign here,” he said as he pointed at the screen of his electronic pa
d.
I signed quickly, still not convinced that he had the right person or place. I’ve never received flowers in my entire life.
Ever.
“Okay. Here you go. The card’s right here,” he said as he pointed to a little card holder in the center of the arrangement.
I nodded my head again.
“Have a nice day,” he said as he turned toward the door.
I nodded my head again.
I pulled the card out of the holder and opened it.
Kace,
I warned you. I’m coming for it.
Shane
Roses and baby’s breath. I counted the roses. Twenty four. When I go to the grocery store, I admire them at the floral department and take time to sneak a smell. I love flowers. I’ve never received any, and I have always wondered how it would make me feel to receive some. Now I know.
Nothing compares.
Nothing.
I re-read the card. I smelled the flowers again.
Ahhhhh.
Shane was an angel, he really was. He took so many precautions to make sure that he never did anything to hurt me. Everything he said, did, wanted, and liked was based on what he thought would make me happy. All from a man that was as unforgiving and brutal as he was in the boxing ring. Sometimes I couldn’t comprehend how he could even be real.
“Kace, are you there?” Mr. Martin asked from the other side of the desk.
“I’m back here, Mr. Martin,” I giggled.
“Oh, I couldn’t see you behind the forest of flowers,” he laughed.
“They’re beautiful. I could smell them from my office. I didn’t need anything - I just wanted to see them. Flowers are as beautiful as the loved one who sends them, Kace,” he said as he bent down and smelled the roses.
“Enjoy them,” he said as he turned away from the desk.
“Oh, I will,” I responded excitedly.
I spent most of the morning smelling my flowers. Before lunch, I received a text message from Shane saying that he was at the gym, and he would be busy for the day. He said he would see me after work, and we would talk. I thanked him for the flowers, and he responded with a smiley face, which was out of character for him. He never texted, and he never sent smileys.
After lunch, I walked back to the office, and sat at my desk. The entire office smelled like roses. I felt so proud to have the flowers. I sat and tried to think of what Shane wanted to talk about, and decided he probably wanted my approval to fight the championship fight.
The door opened again. A man in a uniform walked in. He had a sewn on patch on his blue uniform shirt. Lofton Mini Cooper. He leaned around the flowers and looked at me.
“Are you Kace Meadows?” he asked.
“Uhhm. Yes, I am. Can I help you?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s about your car, can you come outside?” he asked as he turned and walked out the door.
How rude.
My heart sank. I have had the same car since my senior year in high school. My Mazda Protégé. It has three hundred thousand miles on it, and it isn’t much, but it’s all I have. If he hit my car and it’s damaged, I’m going to be taking the bus to work.
“Mr. Martin, I have to go outside. Something’s happened to my car. I’ll be right back in,” I yelled down the hallway.
“Okay, Kace. I’ll answer the phones,” he responded.
I stepped outside the office door and onto the sidewalk. The man stood beside the curb with another man in a shirt just like his.
“What happened to my car?” I asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am. We’re making a delivery. You’re Kace Meadows?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m Kace Meadows, why?” I responded.
He held out a set of keys.
“Delivery from Lofton Mini Cooper. From a Mr. Shane Dekkar. Just out of curiosity, how do you know Shane Dekkar?” he asked.
Confused, I looked at him and responded, “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Shane Dekkar, the boxer?” he asked.
I nodded my head slowly.
“Kip, this chic is Dekkar’s boyfriend. The guy from here in town that fought on Pay-Per-View. Shame on Dekkar,” he said over his shoulder to the other man in the uniform.
“Holy shit. You think you could get us his autograph?” the other man asked.
Still confused, I shrugged my shoulders, “Uhhm. I don’t know, maybe.”
“Well, when you bring this in for service, or warranty work, bring him with you.” He said as he pointed toward the street, still holding the car keys in his hand.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I responded, turning my palms upward.
“Oh, sorry,” he said as he dropped the keys into my hand.
I scrunched my brow and looked at the keys.
“From Mr. Dekkar. He bought you a new Mini Cooper,” he said as he pointed to a new car sitting at the curb beside the other man.
My heart rose up into my throat. I turned and looked down the sidewalk in each direction.
“This isn’t a joke?” I asked.
“No ma’am. We delivered it for him. Kip’s taking me back to the dealer. Mr. Dekkar bought it from the sales department. We work in the service department. They just asked us to deliver it,” he responded.
“You’re not making a YouTube Video or something?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said as he shook his head.
“This is mine?” I asked as I pushed the button on the keys.
The lights flashed and the horn honked.
“Yes ma’am.”
I pushed the button again. The lights flashed and the horn honked again.
“Can I look inside?” I asked.
“Ma’am, you can do whatever you want. It’s your car. Bring Mr. Dekkar out to see us if you can. You ready Kip?” he turned to ask the other man.
I pushed the button on the keys again. I looked at the outside of the car, which was a beautiful silver color. I opened the door. I pushed on the seat with my hand. Oh God, black leather interior. The car smelled like brand new. It is brand new.
Squeeeeeeee!
I ran back into the office and sat at my desk. This was just too much. I was living in a dream. A real dream. I sat and wondered if someone was going to come take the car later and say it was all a big joke. I held the key in the air and pushed the button.
Beep!
I pushed it again.
Beep!
I knew Shane was training, and I didn’t want to disturb him, but I felt I had to say something. This was way too exciting to keep my mouth shut. I picked up my phone and sent him a text message.
Shane: OMG! Someone brought me a car. Do you know anything about this?
I picked up my phone and pushed Mr. Martin’s desk.
“What is it, Kace?” he asked.
“Someone brought me a new car, Mr. Martin. I just wanted to tell you,” I felt stupid after I said it.
“What do you mean, Kace?” he asked, his voice filled with surprise.
“That’s what I said when they brought it. Uhhm. Shane. He bought me a car and had the boys from the dealership deliver it. It’s silver and so cute. I just thought I’d tell you,” I giggled.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” he chuckled.
Immediately, Mr. Martin was walking down the hallway toward my desk. As he approached my desk, he leaned over and smelled the roses.
“I can’t smell those enough, Kace. A bouquet of roses puts my mind at ease. Let’s have a look at the car, shall we?” he said as he held his hand out.
I dropped my keys in his hand, stood up from my seat at the desk, and straightened the wrinkles from my skirt. I walked around the desk, and the aroma from the flowers made me smile. As my body cleared the edge of the desk, Mr. Martin held out his free hand. I reached out, held his hand, and we walked outside together.
“A new car. That’s’ quite a gift,” he said as he held the office door open.
“He’s quite a guy, Mr. Martin,” I sm
iled as I looked up at him.
He pushed the button on the keys.
Beep!
He turned and looked at the direction of the horn and pushed the key button again.
Beep!
“Oh my. A Mini Cooper. That’s a fabulous choice on his part, Kace. This will be great car. These things have been the car of choice in Europe for decades and decades – and for good reason. Great gas mileage, great performance, and so fun to drive. It’s gorgeous, Kace. I’m happy for you,” he said as he looked in the window of the car.
“Now this is Shane, the boxer?” he asked as he turned and handed me the keys.
I nodded my head, “Yes sir.”
“He’s perceptive, isn’t he?” he asked as he turned to face the entrance to the office.
“How so?” I asked.
“He recognizes you as being valuable. As being beautiful. As being, well - special. And he’s doing his best to tell you – or, let’s say, show you how he feels,” he said as he held the door open for me.
“I suppose so, I really like him,” I responded as I walked through the door.
“A little advice?” he turned my direction and smiled.
“Okay,” I responded.
“Starting right now - don’t be anyone but you. And be one hundred percent honest with him regarding your wants, desires, and hopes. Tell him what it is that you expect and want in the relationship. Don’t sacrifice what you want for the sake or thought of making him happy. Make him understand what it is that’s important to you from the start. If you don’t, you’ll forever regret what it is that you’re giving up – what it is that you’re not receiving. If you tell him now, you’ll give him the chance to discuss it, consider it, or ultimately – provide it,” he adjusted his neck tie, smiled, and looked down at his shoes. He seemed to become sad.
“For ten years of marriage, Mrs. Martin didn’t bake sweets because she felt that she didn’t want to temp me to eat unhealthy foods. For ten years, I snuck to the diner alone and ate a slice of pie. I ate a different type of pie every time I went. I love pie, by the way,” he looked up at me, smiled, and continued.
“I lived with ten years of guilt for sneaking out and eating the pie alone. She lived with ten years of misery for giving up something she truly loved – baking pastries and sweets. Had we only discussed it at the beginning, those ten years would have been so much better for us both. It might sound silly or simple, but that’s just an example,” he adjusted his tie and offered another smile.
Undefeated - A New Adult Romance Novel Page 18