by Lane Hart
“Say your prayers tonight, Malone!” Vinny yells back. “I’m gonna beat you to a pulp!”
“Wow,” Cass says when she comes up to me. “That man is massive.”
“He’s not that much bigger than I am,” I remark defensively.
“I know, but he looks titan-sized.”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” my dad interjects, offering me a fist bump that I hit. “You’ve got this, X-Man. Get some rest and eat up your carbs tonight.”
“Will do,” I agree before I give him and my mom and sister a hug goodbye. Macy is surprisingly quiet.
“See ya,” she says before walking off without even making any snarking comments.
“Yo, Mace,” I call out and jog to catch up with her before she gets to the door. “You think I can beat him?” I ask her softly, knowing that she’ll tell me the truth even when no one else will. Sometimes I worry that Coach, Dad and Jude have all been blowing smoke up my ass about how great I’m going to be, and I’ve been buying it without considering the alternative.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I just…there’s a lot riding on this fight, you know? One wrong move…”
“And I can forget ever getting in a cage again?” I finish for her.
“Exactly. But no pressure,” she adds with a grin. “And don’t end up brain damaged.”
“Thanks for that motivational speech,” I mutter.
“You can beat him if you’re smart,” Macy says. “I know you can. He knows you can. Right now you’re going into the cage undefeated, while he’s lost two fights.”
“Only because this is my first one!”
“Still, you’re technically undefeated. If you want to stay that way, then you’ll need to be on top of your game. Faster and smarter than in training. You can’t make any mistakes tomorrow.”
“I know that,” I tell her.
“Good. Then you’ll be fine,” she says with a smile before she leaves.
“Everything okay?” Cass asks when I walk back over to her.
“Yeah. Just think the pressure is starting to get to me. It’s hard to remember all the reasons why I thought fighting was a good idea…”
“Xavier, you don’t have to do this. We could call the fight off, and you could go back to the office. Just say the word, and I’ll support you either way,” she says like the understanding best friend she’s always been.
But she’s more than that to me now. And I want this fight, this win for her because I want to be the kind of man who earns his keep and takes care of his woman, even though Cass is more than capable of taking care of herself.
More than anything, though, I want to do this for myself, to fulfill the lifelong dream I’ve had but was too scared to follow it.
I’m not scared anymore.
Now, I’m ready to fucking fight.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cassidy
I didn’t get much sleep last night. How could I when I’m sleeping alone in the strange hotel room in Norfolk without Xavier?
This week he’s kept to his strict, no sex rule. Or should I say no orgasms for him rule. He has been getting me off like his life depends on it with his tongue and fingers. And while I can’t complain, I still miss being with him and his entire body that he’s been holding back.
Xavier’s also been a little distant these past few months, and I know it’s because of all the stress that’s on him to win. I just think it’s incredible that he’s finally pursuing his dream even if it doesn’t go the way he wants in the cage.
He’s too competitive to see it that way, though. And if he loses, I’m not sure if he’ll ever recover. Then I’ll feel awful for encouraging him to give up his job to fight.
Crap, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
The nauseous feeling continues throughout the day when I’ve barely seen Xavier for more than a few minutes because the coaches want “his head in the fight” and apparently, I’m a distraction.
At least they do let me see him and give him a hug before he walks out.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him.
“Good,” Xavier says when he wipes the sweat from his brow after his warmup. “What about you?”
“Me?” I repeat with a laugh. “I’ve felt sick all day because I’m worried about you. Please don’t get hurt.”
“Not exactly something I can promise,” he responds with a grin.
“I know. I just…I don’t want you to blame me if you do or if things don’t go the way you hoped…”
Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me close and says, “Bambi, I would never blame you for anything.”
“Are you sure?” I ask since I’m the one who gave him the push in this direction. Not really a push but a giant shove.
“Absolutely, baby.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re already running a few minutes late,” Jude tells us.
“Right, I’ll go,” I say, squeezing Xavier one last time.
“See you after?” he asks with a quick brush of his lips over mine.
“See you after,” I agree.
“I guess I better get going too,” his mom Page says before she hugs Xavier and kisses his cheek. “You’ve got this, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he replies with a smile before waving his gloved hand at us as we leave.
“This part doesn’t get any easier,” Page says as we weave our way through the tunnels to get to our seats in the front row of the arena.
“It doesn’t?”
“Nope. But it’s worth it to see how happy they are when they win.”
“What if he doesn’t win?” I whisper to her as we find our chairs. “What if he gets hurt?”
“He’ll win,” she says with confidence. Reaching over, she covers my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Xavier’s been waiting for this day his entire life. Fighting isn’t all that’s in his blood. One day he’s going to be the best in the world, like his father. Just wait and see.”
Xavier
“All right, let’s go, people!” Jude orders with a clap of his hands. “It’s showtime.”
Shit.
While I may be standing on them, my legs have gone paralyzed and refuse to move.
“You all, ah, go on, and I’ll catch up,” I tell them.
“The crowd’s getting restless,” Jude explains. “We need to –”
“Just give us a goddamn second!” my dad interrupts with his usual bluntness.
“Fine, Jax!” Jude huffs, throwing his arms up. “We’ll wait for you at the tunnel but make it fast!” he says before he heads out with Macy, the coaches and trainers.
“Got a case of the nerves?” he asks me when we’re alone.
“I’m not sure if it’s nerves or what,” I admit as I pace back and forth in the changing room. “I don’t want to fucking lose!”
“Then don’t!”
“What if I embarrass myself?” I ask him.
“You won’t.”
“How do you know? I’m not you, Dad!” I remind him.
“No, you’re not,” he agrees with a sigh as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re better than me.”
“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” I remark with a chuckle.
“I may have been good back in my day,” Dad says. “But you and your sister…well, I think both of you could’ve easily taken my championship belt.”
“That’s what all fathers are supposed to say. You would be a shitty one if you told us we sucked and not to waste our time.”
“You think I wouldn’t have told you that if I thought it were true?” he asks. “You know I don’t say shit I don’t mean. The only reason I didn’t talk you out of law school was because I assumed it was what you wanted. I also knew how happy it made your mother when she realized you inherited some of her brains, so I couldn’t take that away from her. That was my mistake. You belong in the cage. You’re not only stronger than I was, but you’re ten times smarter. You’ll know what your opponent is thinking before
they do, and they won’t stand a chance.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do,” he says. “You just need to have confidence in yourself.” Stomping over to the door, he jerks it open and says, “Now get your ass out there and prove me right!”
“Yes, sir,” I agree.
I’ve been so scared of letting down everyone who believes in me that I forgot to believe in myself.
I can do this. I can be an amazing fighter, not because my family, Cass and the coaches say so, but because deep down it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Win or lose, tonight is going to be a night I’ll never forget.
“Finally!” Jude says from the front of the tunnel when we approach before he gives the thumbs up to one of the officials.
A second later, the familiar strums of a guitar fill the arena, the beginning of Sick Puppies’ “You’re Going Down.” It was my dad’s walkout song thirty years ago. Macy’s always used it, and I wanted to continue the Malone tradition to honor him.
“I thought you said you wanted a Rage Against the Machine song!” Dad says from beside me.
“I lied!” I tell him. “But if you cry, I’m changing it next time!”
“Fuck you!” he chuckles even though he looks away to wipe at his eyes.
And that’s when it finally hits me that there will be a next time. This isn’t the only chance I’ll ever get to fight. Even if I lose or get hurt, I’ll come right back. And no one can stop me.
“Ready?” Jude asks.
“I’m ready!” I shout over the music because I am.
I step out into the dark arena with the rock song blaring. As soon as the spotlight lands on me, the packed crowd roars so loudly they drown out the Sick Puppies.
Throwing my arms up has them cheering louder as I stroll confidently toward the referee. Jude hands me my mouthpiece that I shove into place for official examination before I’m allowed into the cage.
Once my song ends, another begins. Maybe I’m just being optimistic, but it doesn’t sound like the crowd gives Vinny Rivera half the applause they gave me.
Vinny slowly struts down to the cage where he’s patted down and let inside before they shut and lock the door.
The asshole smirks across the canvas at me, like he thinks I’m a joke. I can’t wait to prove him wrong.
“Fighting out of the red corner,” the announcer starts. “Weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-eight pounds, and making his IFC debut, Xavier ‘The Lawman’ Malone!”
After flexing my biceps for the fans, I shadow box to keep my muscles warm while the announcer introduces Vinny.
“Fighting out of the blue corner, weighing in at two-hundred and forty-seven pounds with an IFC record of only two losses, and six wins, three by submission, Vinny Rivera!”
The ref steps in between us and says, “I want a clean fight, no dirty hits, and you’ve got three rounds to win by submission, knockout, or points. Are you ready?”
Both of us nod our agreement, and then it’s on.
I come out of my corner with my right arm extended, ready to touch gloves and then get down to work. Unfortunately for me, Vinny had a much different plan that didn’t involve any shows of good sportsmanship. As I approach him, he briefly lifts his arm, but as soon as I’m close, he hurls himself forward, collapsing against my midsection and using his weight advantage to drag me down to the canvas.
I end up sitting on my ass with Vinny’s head in my lap, his arms wrapped around my waist. He uses his legs to drive himself forward and try to mount me, while my hands drop to the canvas behind me as I scramble backwards to try to get back to my feet.
“Don’t run!” I hear Jude roar from my corner. “Elbow that fucker in the head!”
I try to follow my uncle’s advice, bracing myself on one hand while I raise my other arm and deliver a crushing blow to the top of Vinny’s head with my elbow. He manages to twist his head and absorb the worst of the hit before letting go of my waist to grab the arm I hit him with. A mad scramble ensues as I lose my balance and fall to my side, both of us kicking and squirming as Vinny tries to secure a grip on me while I try to get my balance.
When I feel my back hit the cage wall, I know I’m out of room to run. I try to use the support it offers to push myself back to my feet. Vinny is still right on top of me, though, lying across my legs, his bulk making it impossible for me to get back up. I hammer my fists down on his ribs and back, mixing it up by throwing hooks to try to find his face, which he keeps turned away from me as he grunts and heaves, trying to flatten me out on the canvas.
“Ain’t like practicing with your daddy, is it, boy?” Vinny mumbles through his mouthpiece as he manages to drag me forward a few inches, rolling his body up to my abdomen. “Thought you were gonna waltz in here and dance around a while, then just step over me on your way to fame and fortune? I got news for you, little boy. This ain’t your little family gym anymore, and ain’t nobody here scared of you or your family. You ain’t shit, your daddy and your uncle ain’t shit, and the only thing your pretty little sister is good for is waving ‘round cards and taking dicks. You precious little bitches ain’t no fighters.”
The entire time Vinny is monologuing to me he keeps my legs pinned, resting and recovering against me. I keep struggling to break his grip, pushing valiantly at his shoulder and hip to slide him back down my body, but I don’t have a decent angle to move him. We exchange weak punches wherever we can, but neither of us are in a position to do any real damage. This stalemate continues until mercifully the bell rings to end the first round.
“Up, up,” the referee commands as Vinny takes his time getting to his feet. They both walk away as my dad and Jude bring a stool and the water bucket into the ring, quickly sitting me down and toweling me off.
“That wasn’t so good,” my father rumbles. “Fat bastard looks like he just wants to sit on you and try to suffocate you.”
“It’s not a bad plan,” I gasp as I take a quick sip of water. “He’s really fucking heavy.”
“He’s going to keep trying the same shit,” Jude hisses. “You hear Jax and I yelling at you during the round?”
“Only a little,” I confess. “Didn’t expect the crowd to be so loud. Never heard anything like this.”
“Yeah, that’s okay,” Jude says. “Look, be ready for him when this round starts. When he shoots in, you greet him with a knee, or an uppercut, whatever you can to knock him off balance.”
“Don’t take him to the ground, though,” my father cautions. “He wants that.”
“Time, gentlemen,” the referee calls.
I stand up and bounce easily on my feet, still feeling good. Vinny rolled me around for a while, but neither of us did any real damage. When the bell rings and the referee raises his arm, Vinny and I both approach the center of the ring.
Jude was right about Vinny’s fight plan. As soon as we’re close enough, he lunges forward again, arms spread wide to sprawl his mass against me. It’s a sloppy move and shows how little he thinks of me as a fighter.
When I hop forward and bring my knee up to meet his face, I can feel his confidence shake as his lip splits and blood splatters on the canvas. I try to follow up with a vicious hook, but Vinny flops flat onto his back as the referee rushes forward to check on him.
“Don’t fall for it!” I hear my father yell from outside the cage. He roars his warning so loud that it even carries over the cheers from the crowd, and I immediately check myself before I rush forward to try and pound Vinny into the ground. It’s a good thing I did too; because a moment later, Vinny grins at me while still lying flat.
“Maybe you do got a brain on ya, kid,” Vinny says as he spits a line of blood to the side. “Hope you’re better at lawyering than you are at fighting,” he adds as the referee waves him back to his feet.
As soon as he’s back up, I rush forward, throwing punches from every angle, driving him back into the cage wall. He covers his head with both hands, so I aim lower, my fists thudding into hi
s hard, round gut. The referee moves forward again as the cheers around us reach a crescendo, and I slow my assault as I think he’s about to stop the fight.
“Don’t let up!” I hear Jude howl, just as Vinny hurls himself forward off the cage wall. I hadn’t noticed him bracing one of his feet on the fence behind him, and when he rockets towards me, I’m momentarily stunned. He grabs my right arm in both hands and immediately drops to the mat, twisting his body so that I’m jerked to the ground with him.
Before I can get my bearings, Vinny has a leg across my neck, with my arm stretched out across his torso. He leans back into the arm bar, putting all of his weight into a desperate attempt to get me to submit. My left arm is free, so I reach over as much as I can and grab my own right arm, using every ounce of strength I can muster to pull my arm back towards me before he snaps my elbow.
“Don’t you dare tap out!” Jax and Jude both yell from somewhere nearby. “You keep that grip and pull that fat bitch! Throw him out into the crowd if you have to!”
“Don’t listen to them, kid,” Vinny wheezes as he throws himself backwards, sending blinding blasts of agony up my arm. “You can tap out and head right on back to your safe little office. You tried, kid, I’ll give you that, but you ain’t got what it takes. Fighters aren’t born; they’re made in a gym, boy. You might’ve been born pretty and smart, but you ain’t got the soul to face a man like me. Tap, kid. Ain’t no shame in it.”
“Fuck you,” I grunt as I jerk my arm back towards my body. Vinny is heavier than I am, but I can feel that I’m winning this tug of war and know that I’m stronger. I thrash and heave myself away from him, dragging my arm back a few precious inches before I try my next move. It’s a hell of a gamble, but it’s the only way I’m going to escape without a broken arm.
Once I’ve got my right arm down far enough so that Vinny doesn’t have leverage, I take my left hand off of my arm and seize Vinny’s toes that are almost directly in my face. He throws himself backwards again to try to take advantage, but at the same time I seize his big toe and bend it backwards, the intense pain making his leg spasm and releasing the pressure across my neck. As Vinny hurls himself backward to try and break my arm, I roll with him and break free of his leg, getting my knees under me and finally yanking my arm out of his weakening grip.