Page 11 of Fighter

He leans in and hands me a slip of paper with an address on it and his phone number underneath. “With you by my side, I won’t be able to lose.”

Tressa laughs, grabs my hand, and pulls me to my feet. “Fine. We’re outta here. And thanks for the money, slugger. Good luck tomorrow!”

“Seven o’clock,” Maximus calls after me as Tressa tugs me out the door. I glance over my shoulder to see him standing there in all his glory, muscles bulging and eyes fixed on me. I want to pull away from my friend and rush back there with him, but unlike Tressa, I don’t have the courage. Not yet anyway.

“What a fucking weirdo,” she muses as she orders an Uber. “Hot as hell, but a weirdo.”

“Mmmm,” I reply, my voice barely audible. She may not like him, but I’m smitten, and I know one thing for sure: I will not be at the club tomorrow night. I’ll be at Max’s fight.

8

Maximus

“All right, he’s gonna look for the left hook. You know that. And then the uppercut follow-up. You anticipate those and counter with your right, and we win this thing. Got it?”

I’m doing my best to focus on what Elmore’s saying, but it’s fucking hard. Not only did I get no sleep last night thanks to the massive hard-on that wouldn’t go down for an hour, and then every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her – my T-shirt pulled up over her perfect tits and those lips just begging for my kiss.

Even now, when my mind should be on the match, I’m thinking about her.

This could be either incredibly good or incredibly bad. If I can make things work with Sam, my whole life will change. For the first time in a long time, I’ll let a woman into my life. I don’t know how I know, but she’ll make me a better man.

But on the other hand, if Sam doesn’t show up tonight – if that friend of hers manages to convince her to stay away from me – then my mind won’t be on the fight. I might lose.

“Hey! You with me?” Elmore barks. I flex my fingers, feeling the tightness of the wraps, and look up to see him frowning at me.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

“No you ain’t,” he replies. “You’re thinkin’ about that sweet piece of ass from last night.”

“Hey, man. Don’t talk about her that way.”

“Then get your fucking head in the game! You wanna lose this match and be begging on the streets? Wanna go back to working construction again?”

I smile as I remember why I keep Elmore around. No one on Earth can motivated me like he can. I give him a grin and he replies with a motivational slap on my shoulder. “There he is! Come on. Let’s do this!”

The sound of the crazed fans reaches my ears and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes floods my nose as I march up the hallway that leads to the arena. This fight’s been set up in an old, abandoned warehouse and there’s a big turnout. I told the bouncers to watch out for Samantha if she came and make sure nobody fucked with her. These kind of events don’t really draw the best kind of crowds.

People roar and cheer and clap as I enter the room. I see Crazy Carl warming up in the ring, but my eyes scan the crowd for her.

I don’t see her…she didn’t come.

I try to beat back the sinking feeling in my chest by getting angry. Biting the inside of my lip, I glance over at Carl, who’s bouncing around like he wants to audition for Dancing with the Stars. I can just tell by the way he’s moving that he thinks he’s got this one in the bag. He thinks he’s gonna win, the son of a bitch.

“Remember what I told you!” Elmore shouts in my ear as the sounds of the crowd grow more and more oppressive. “Watch the left hook!”

Real fights have raised stages and ropes, but underground matches like this have what basically amounts to a fighting pit – a box of raised bleachers that looks down on the fighters, with a worn link of chain at the entrance. Elmore unhooks it and I enter the ring.

“Ready to get fucked up!?” Carl jeers as he claps his fists against each other. This kind of shit-talk is allowed here. Normally, I’d have a witty response for him, but not today. Today I’m scanning the bleachers, my eyes searching for the beautiful girl that made me feel something I’ve never felt before.

Despite the stink of sweat, filth, smoke and booze, I can still remember how she smelled last night when I held her in my arms. Despite my adrenaline, I can still feel her soft body in my hands and her plump lips against mine.

I hear the referee shouting the usual nonsense at me, but I’m not paying attention. He doesn’t matter. He won’t stop the fight unless one of us gets really dirty anyway.

A flick of hair draws my attention to the top row, but I glance over to see a tattooed, rocker chick wearing a cutoff black white tee full of holes. Her boyfriend wraps an arm around her and lifts his chin to me.

This time, I can’t do shit about the sinking feeling in my chest.

Yeah. She’s not coming.

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