by V Domino
Gabe busts up laughing at that. “I can see that, with the way you’re twitching.”
I roll my eyes. Asshole.
Yeah, my damn Tourette’s is acting up but fucking Diego makes me feel indebted to him and I hate owing anyone especially someone with power.
“Listen, Jefe didn’t buy this for you to look pretty. He’s got his own agenda so don’t overthink it, wey. Like you said, you fight for him so he’s making sure you have everything you need to succeed and win him some money. Just take the bag, Twitch. Pay him back by winning.” Well, when he puts it like that it does make me feel slightly less anxious.
With a sigh I grab the bag and slam the car door a little harder than necessary and walk into the gym. The smell of antibacterial cleansers fills my nose as I look around at the digs. It looks like your typical membership gym with all the fancy machines everywhere but as I walk further in I see the multiple boxing rings and punching bags. I haven’t seen one person in here until a guy comes walking out from the back office.
“Twitch?” The guy asks.
“Yeah, that’s me.” I shake the guy’s hand as he stares at me closely. It’s weird as hell but as I drop his hand and move around him, he shakes off whatever thoughts were going through his head. This is going to be a strange training session.
“Alright, how about you do your normal warm-up routine while I make a couple of calls and make sure shit is set for tonight. When you’re done with that we’ll do some sparring.” Johnny pulls out his phone and checks the time as he walks away yelling over his shoulder. “Fifteen minutes then meet me in the ring.”
Not exactly how I expected my first training session to go but I’m not complaining. I work better alone anyway. I get changed and start on my stretches before running through my routine on the punching bag.
I put in my ear buds and press play on my phone. Music is the only sound I like during my workout so as ‘Still D.R.E’ by Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre begins to play, I settle into the familiarity of my routine.
My life has changed so much in the past year and even though I planned and worked toward getting here, it feels like I’ve been unprepared. I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew but standing here working on my punches, I feel the storm in my mind calm and stress slowly leave my body. I punch in rhythm with the music and soon I have my combinations of kicks, punches and footwork flowing easily. This is something that’ll never change despite my life. Fighting is an adrenaline rush, it’s the brain producing hormones that prepare the muscles for exertion but for me, it’s more than that. It’s closing off the noise of the world and focusing on one task. One path leading to one ending and all I have to do to get there is remove the man standing in my way. But I have to be ready. I have to keep a focused mind and hone on my aggression so it’s not used against me. Because like me, my challenger is trying to get to his destination and it’s me he has to get through.
Right now, the bag is my opponent and he is swinging at me too. I pivot and dodge, ducking and turning while keeping myself protected. But of course, this is nothing compared to sparring with an actual person and it won’t fully prepare me for an actual fight.
After a few more minutes of working the bag I stop and decide to go in search of my trainer.
Somehow, I don’t think Johnny is looking forward to training a kid like me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m confident in myself and most people know about me from the rumors in the underground fighting scene but I’m not your typical fighter. At six foot three and one hundred ninety-eight pounds, I can hold my own but what most don’t know is I know how to ground fight as well.
Usually heavier men have a hard time wrestling but I’ve learned to fight in juvie where getting jumped was a regular occurrence. Most professional fighters train and learn the style they fight with, but for me, fighting comes from a place of pain and hate. A place of anger and bitterness that came from losing my family and my determination to find my sister.
So each time I face off in the ring, my opponent isn’t just my challenger for the night. No, he’s the boogeyman that took my family. He’s the block in my way of finding Sia. He’s the wall I have to tear down in order to live another day. So when an opponent manages to get me on the floor, I welcome it. Getting my back to the ground always leads to a win for me.
What’s the saying? The bigger they are, the harder they fall? Maybe for some but for me, it’s the beginning of the end for my foe.
Walking to the fountain to fill my water bottle up I notice Johnny getting the gear setup in the boxing ring for our sparring session. It seems like they have everything here. I’ve never used any of these machines before—well, aside from the weight bench and treadmill that is.
About a month after I got out of juvie I bought a new-to-me punching bag, set it up in Lopez’s garage and used the treadmill she had. Later I bought the weights and bench but since I never cared to spend the money for a gym membership, I’ve never used these crazy looking machines.
“Those are for cardio and all that shit runner’s need. Silver had me install all of it for some social media models who like their asses toned,” Johnny says with a scoff.
I turn and look at the step climber thing as I reply, “Yeah, I thought these looked strange. So they’re ass machines, huh? Good to know.”
Johnny busts up laughing as he tightens the straps on his punching pads. I climb through the ropes and join him but when I don’t put on the small gloves typically used in UFC, Johnny raises an eyebrow in question.
“You need to wear the gloves kid.”
“I’ve never used gloves before so I’m not used to them. Why train with them if it’s a bare knuckle fight anyway.”
Johnny tosses his head back a little like I just spoke Japanese.
“No, Silver doesn’t allow bare knuckles.”
He sure does know Silver well... I wonder how well. Not that it matters much anyway. I’ll probably never meet her and even if I did, I don’t have time for sidetracks.
“This isn’t the UFC so why all the rules?” I don’t understand why it matters so much. I mean I know it’s brutal but that’s the difference between legal and illegal fighting.
“Obviously it’s not, but in my ring I make the rules and I happen to want to keep fighters in decent condition. Can’t keep a crowd pleased when fighters are too damaged to continue past the first round.”
I whirl around at the airy voice coming from behind me and come face to face with none other than the Barbarity Queen herself. I’m struck with how beautiful she is in person. Watching her on the small phone screen last night did nothing but hide her alluring aura. She stands at around five feet five inches and her arm reach isn’t very long but she’s lithe and looks like she packs some power. Even while she’s still standing at ground level and not up here in the ring, I can still see how fit she is. The way she moves, like a well oiled machine, tells me she’s fast and definitely good at ground fighting.
“Yo, Silver. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at Barbarity with Jefa.”
Silver walks closer to the ring and the intense look in her eye has me tensing up immediately. Does she scare me? Not at all but her eyes feel like they’re seeing the things I’d like to keep hidden—things I have zero intention of bringing to light. Her eyes see too much but on the same coin, I see her. This girl may be the queen around here, she may be feared and respected, but I see the chips and cracks. The more I stare at her unyielding eyes the more her facade becomes translucent.
As if reading my thoughts, she swallows before turning her eyes away from me, breaking the moment.
“Jefa has everything set and ready, I just wanted to stop by and see who you think new guy should fight tonight,” she says this while gesturing in my direction. Which, if I’m honest, pisses me off. Normally I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me but for some reason, Silver acting like I’m not here has my spine stiffening.
“New guy has a name, short stuff
, and it’s Twitch.” I tell her as I give her my back, and pick up the hand wraps and begin wrapping my hands.
I hear a small feminine huff before Johnny begins talking with her. I ignore the conversation between the two and pull on the gloves. I may have never used any before but these fit perfectly.
As I’m flexing my fingers to get used to the tight feeling, I hear Johnny tell Shorty, “I haven’t sparred with him yet so I don’t know his strengths and weaknesses. Give us an hour and I’ll be better able to pick his opponent.”
Shorty hums under breath and again, I don’t know what it is about her that gets under my skin but before I can stop myself I speak up.
“I’ll fight anyone and win. I’m undefeated in California where I fought some of the best fighters in the country. I know you’ve heard the rumors spread about me, ragazza.” I look her up and down and smirk at her unease as I slowly advance on her. “They’re true. Don’t underestimate me.”
To her credit, she doesn’t step back. In fact, indignation takes over her features as she curls her lip and looks at me like I’m a mangy dog.
“Put him against Joseph Tanner. Let’s see if Twat is as good as he thinks.” She may have just insulted me with that word but this little beauty doesn’t know that she just unleashed a beast. I know Tanner is the best fighter in the division and he’s known to be the best ground and pounder. No doubt Shorty thinks I’m too big to floor grapple.
I scratch my chin with my gloved hand while looking Silver up and down. She’s fucking beautiful and her fire makes me hate her and want her. The way she looks at me like I’m a gnat that keeps flying around her face, annoying and pointless to her environment, makes me want to show her just how good I am. Why? I have no idea. I don’t need her approval nor do I need her validation but for some fucked up reason, I want it.
I need it like I need a cold shower.
What the hell is it about this guy? I’ve never in my life felt uneasy around a man. Hatred? Yes. Right now though, nervousness and epinephrine run through my veins like a liquid shot of cocaine. My heart is racing and I have this tight feeling right above my stomach.
Butterflies? For real?
Can’t be. This guy literally pisses me off. He looks at me like I’m a cloud of cheap perfume, like an overwhelming inconvenience that needs to be expelled from the room.
I stand there, watching Twitch run through combinations. He’s shirtless so I take my time looking him up and down, getting my fill of his glorious body. He has tattoos across his chest and up his neck but his stomach is devoid of ink. His arms are completely covered with intricate designs surrounding names. The one name I can actually read is Sia. I wonder if that is his girlfriend’s name. Instantly, jealousy slams into my chest but I quickly shut that down. Twitch is not mine to be green over. My eyes travel down, over his perfect washboard abs which flex beautifully with his movements, to his legs. He’s wearing black joggers that hang snuggly against his tapered waist and I watch how well he moves his hips. I honestly think I could watch Twitch all day. His body is fluid and smooth, completely opposite of his nickname. His easy motions puts me in a trance as I watch him.
He was correct when he said I’d heard the rumors. Rumors that say he is a vicious, wild and untamed fighter who tries to kill his opponent every time he steps in the cage. A sociopath.
I also heard he licked his bloody fists when he won a particularly brutal fight last year. Some of the rumors say he just got out of prison for the murder of his parents and he’s come to New York to get away from the whispers in Cali.
Farfetched? Possibly but I’m going to treat him like it’s all true.
He’s an unknown and unknowns can’t be trusted. These stupid feelings in my traitorous body can’t be trusted either.
Twitch is gorgeous, no denying that. He’s tall and built like weight lifting and protein shakes are a part of his DNA. He reminds me of the model and workout trainer, Chris Heria, he even has tattoos like him. Like his body, his face is striking with his brown eyes and black hair, which is short at the sides and long on top. He has freckles that make me want to trace his face with my fingers.
Calm down.
Twitch doesn’t strike me as a conceited guy so his cockiness earlier had me instantly irritated so I put him against Tanner, a beast at grappling, just to wipe that mask off his beautiful face. Now though, I’m regretting it. Though Twitch moves with ease, he looks too large to win in a ground and pound fight but what’s done is done.
I’m about to leave them to train but stop when I see the anxiety my presence has on the stupidly handsome guy, so I stay. Deciding to make Twitch feel the same uneasiness he makes me feel, I climb into the ring. Smirk on my face and arms crossed over my chest, I walk around the two men sparring. I see Johnny bite back his smile when I wink at him from behind Twitch’s back.
I make my way around the handsome man so I can see his face, which is partially covered by the head gear, and I can see why they call him Twitch. His head twitches to the side at random moments and other times, his nose twitches like it itches. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen but at the same time I catch myself worrying it’ll become a distraction and mess him up tonight.
Before I can think twice, I hold up my hand stopping the men.
“Will that distract you tonight?” I gesture to his head and watch his heavy breathing.
“I have Tourette’s and I’ve had it my entire life, sweetheart. I know how to deal with it. Why do you care if it distracts me?” I can tell my question made him self-conscious so he uses sarcasm as a shield. Despite the fact that I kind of feel bad for that, he’s irritating me with his fucking tone.
I roll my eyes as I reply, “Don’t be a bitch, Twitch. It’s not a good look on you. I’m only asking because you’re fighting for my best friend’s father, who I’m sure has put a lot of money on you. So tell me simply, is it going to be a problem or should I save everyone some money by keeping you out of the fight?”
Twitch silently stares at me for a moment and even though I can’t see his jaw with the headgear on, I know he’s grinding his teeth on the mouth guard. Oh—fucking—well. A lot of money is on the line tonight and I’m looking to get paid, not lose out.
I raise my eyebrow waiting for this guy to answer me. His intense gaze is starting to make me squirm and I’m not used to that.
“Look, Twitch. I’ve got my own fight to prepare for so either answer the question or you sit this one out.” Before I can even finish the sentence, he’s responding.
“I’ll be fine tonight.”
He turns, dismissing me, and continues sparring but like a petty bitch, who has to have the last word I tell him, “Let’s hope so.” I drop off the boxing ring before he can say anything in return.
I make my way out through the gym intending on leaving through the back exit but as I step out into the cool evening air, I see my white Mercedes is completely wrecked. I drop my bag and keys as I stand there shocked like nothing else.
Who the fuck did this and why?
This was my mother’s car! The car I bought for her right before she found out she had cancer again. All the windows and lights are smashed in with a crowbar lying on the ground. There are dents all over the body and the tires are slashed.
Whoever did this is gonna…
All my thoughts are cut off as a man with a ski mask jumps out from behind the open door and makes a grab for me. I jump backward into the gym, dodging his gloved hands but the man keeps coming for me.
I’m not going to run, this is my territory.
I move faster to give myself a good four to five feet from the guy then stop. He continues advancing on me and like most men, he thinks I’ll be taken easily.
Tough luck, asshole.
As soon as he’s close enough to reach for my neck I grab his right arm and use his momentum to pull him forward while I slip to the side so I can slam my knee straight into his stomach. He grunts and bends forward, all th
e air leaving his lungs with the impact. I quickly pull up my right arm and slam the back of my elbow onto the base of his neck, knocking him to the ground. I still can’t see who he is but I hear Johnny yelling as he runs toward me from across the gym. I don’t bother looking up, my attention is solely on my attacker.
I land two good kicks to the bastard’s ribs and he tries to avoid my third kick by rolling away. As soon as he’s on his back I jump on him and begin raining down punch after punch until I’m being pulled off the guy. I see it’s not Johnny so I instantly throw my head back to smash the person’s nose but I don’t feel the crunch of cartilage like I thought I would. Instead I hear a deep voice.
“Calmati, Silver. Calm down. It’s me, Twitch.” I slowly let myself relax as Johnny puts my attacker on his stomach and zip ties his hands behind his back. There’s only one person who would benefit from having me hurt or killed today and when I get into the ring with her tonight, I’m going to make sure she regrets every choice she’s made today.
The Popovs are a family of cowards.
“If I let you go, you gonna be a good girl and let us question the bastard?” Twitch’s rumbling voice reminds me that I’m still being held. How I forgot his tattooed arms were around me, I have no clue. I’m soothed though and it’s that thought that has me stiffening all over again.
“If you don’t let me go I’ll make sure you never step foot in my arena again.”
I feel his chest vibrate against my back with his silent laughter and the motion makes my throat tighten up while a fire ignites in my core. What a delicious feeling.
“Don’t be a bitch, Silver. It’s not a good look on you.” He throws my words back at me as he let’s me step from his embrace, letting his fingers glide against my exposed skin at my waist. A shiver runs through me but I won’t admit it to anyone.
I don’t say anything to him, nor do I turn to look at him. The unfamiliar feelings rushing through me are not something I can entertain.
