“Tell him I said ‘hi’,” he said. “After you’re done with the bath, though.”
I shouldered my bag and stared back at him. “Why not during?”
“Don’t want you washin’ his pecker while you’re talking to him about me. Might confuse him.”
I rolled my eyes and turned away. Ripp didn’t have much tact, and he lacked conventional manners, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything or anyone.
***
I glared at him. “Where’s Kelsey?”
Ethan’s father tossed his hands in the air. “I have no idea who Kelsey is, and to be honest, I don’t care.”
“Kelsey is the one who has been up here all day and night sitting with him in case he wakes up. And I don’t think you get to make those decisions.”
“If I don’t, who will?”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “You’re not God,” I blubbered.
“Right now I’m the closest thing to God that exists,” he said.
I wiped my cheeks on my forearm. “If you love him, you’d never even talk about doing anything like that.”
“Who do you suppose will be stuck with the bill? When he doesn’t wake up? Not you, that’s for certain.”
I was beyond tears. I had reached a point I was angry enough to fight, but felt I owed it to Ethan to be as civil as I was capable of. “I’ll pay it. Here in a week, I’ll be able to. So just leave. Just go. I’ll pay it.”
“Highly unlikely,” he said. “And I’m not going to argue with you. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
I felt worse than sick thinking that he was even considering it. I had no idea people like him even existed. “It’s been nine days. Nine. Not nine years. Not even nine months. And I don’t care how long it is, I’ll be here with him forever. You know why?”
“I don’t care.”
“Because I love him,” I shouted.
“Is there a problem?” Kelsey asked from behind me.
Thank God.
I spun around and hugged him. After sobbing into the shoulder of his shirt for several seconds, I gathered my composure. I leaned back and wiped my tears. “He’s going to have them unplug Ethan. He wants to let him die.”
“He’s brain dead,” Ethan’s father said. “Someone has to make decisions about what’s in everyone’s best interest.”
Kelsey stepped around me. “He ain’t brain dead, he’s recovering from an injury.” He doubled up his fists and puffed out his chest. “Now get your shit and get out of here before I drag your ass out.”
Holy crap, Kelsey.
Ethan’s father glared back at him. “And you are?”
“I’m the old man you don’t want to fuck with right now. Believe me.”
“It’s a matter of economics.”
Kelsey stepped aside and pointed toward the door. “Economics? This is about money? You can bet your bottom god forsaken dollar that I’ve got a lot more god damned money than you do. I’ll spend every last cent keepin’ this kid alive and paying attorneys to make sure you don’t have a say in matters. Now, get out of here before I bust your fuckin’ nose.”
Ethan’s father shook his head. “Sooner or later--”
Kelsey raised his fists as if he was actually prepared to fight. “Sooner or later? Sooner or later I’m gonna whip your ass. Leave. Now.”
Ethan’s father stomped out.
I exhaled, feeling like I had inherited an entirely new set of problems. “We can’t leave him alone. His dad will--”
Kelsey shook his head and sat down. “He won’t be alone.”
“But--”
“But nothing. He won’t be alone.”
“I love him so much,” I said.
My eyes welled with tears. The crying started all over again. “I can’t let anything happen…”
“Nothing’s gonna happen to this kid,” Kelsey said. “Not on my watch.”
He clenched his fist and extended his arm.
What little doubt that remained vanished.
And I pounded my fist into his.
THIRTY-FIVE
Jaz
Day one hundred three.
I felt sick about leaving to go to Las Vegas, but I knew I had no alternative. “You promise you’ll call if anything changes?”
Kelsey glared at me. “What’d I tell ya?”
“Anything. I mean it.”
“I know what anything means.”
I hated thinking about Kelsey not being at the fight. “I wish you could go. But, I’m glad not you’re going. You know what I mean. Staying here to be with him.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Listen to the dummy, Spaz. And keep twisting on the ball of that foot like your putting out a cigarette. You’ll do fine.”
“I will,” I said. “Just like you told me.”
I glanced at my watch. “I’ve got to go.”
He nodded.
I stepped to the edge of the bed, reached up, and adjusted his stocking cap. “It’s a hundred one outside, and it’s so cold in here, you’re going to end up sick. I’ll talk to them about the temperature again, don’t worry. I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back in a few days, so don’t worry. No promises, but win or lose, I’ll make you proud.”
I leaned over and gave him a kiss. “I love you.”
I glanced at my watch. “Shit. I’ve really got to--”
Kelsey opened his arms. “Come here.”
I mashed my face into his chest, wrapped my arms around him, and held him tight. He might have been a grumpy old fucker, but he was the most awesome grumpy old fucker to ever exist.
He hugged me for a moment, and then released me. “Get out of here.”
“If anything changes,” I said.
“Heard you the first ten times.”
I sighed and turned away.
I was almost to the corridor, and I heard him shout. “Hey Spaz!”
I turned around.
“I love ya,” he said.
It felt good to hear him say it. I started to respond, and then paused. He stood in the center of the hallway staring back at me. I grinned and turned toward the exit.
And, after a few steps, I raised my right hand high in the air and flipped him the bird.
THIRTY-SIX
Jaz
Day one hundred five.
I stood in the corner of the ring surrounded by 17,000 people. Coming down the aisle wasn’t at all what I expected. There was no cheering, no one slapped my hands, and there were no legions of screaming fans.
Only Ripp and me.
“I feel funny,” I whispered.
“I’m gonna shit my drawers,” Ripp whispered. “And watch what you say. They’ve got them zoom in cameras and microphones everywhere.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Shockwave came down the aisle. The entire crowd went ballistic. One day, if I continued to be a contender, I would have a following no different than she did. But my followers? Mine would be different. I wouldn’t talk shit to everyone and send out hashtag shit talk tweets on Twitter, so my fans would be classy.
But I’d be a bitch in the ring.
She ducked under the ropes, stepped inside the ring, and glared at me.
I pursed my lips, glared back, and waited.
“Don’t forget what I told ya,” Ripp said. “Touch ‘em up when the ref tells you to, and after that, no matter how many times she offers, don’t pound gloves with her.”
“Got it.”
I liked Ripp’s thought process on touching gloves. He said after the initial ‘shake’, to never touch gloves again when offered. It was an intimidation tactic he said he used, and he swore it worked.
According to him, it made his opponent fear him.
I needed all the help I could get.
The announcer reached for the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen…”
“Tonight, Tactical Promotions and the MGM Grand present the WBC championship bout scheduled for ten rounds.”
“The challenger, in the blue cor
ner, with a career record of 135 wins and 0 losses, with 62 wins by knockout. In her professional debut, Jaz…Brawler…Briscoe!”
I raised my gloves and turned in a circle.
A handful of people, Dekk included, cheered.
I felt small. Microscopic, to be honest. But I wasn’t intimidated. Not at all.
“And, in the red corner, the champion…”
The crowd went wild. As they screamed and cheered, he continued. “With a professional record of…”
“I hate this girl,” I whispered. “Hashtag Shockwave. Seriously? Hashtags are stupid.”
“You ain’t the only one. She’s so fuckin’ full of herself…”
“Shay…Shockwave…Simpson…”
The crowd went wild.
Again.
The referee called us to the center. Ripp and I went together. She stood with her trainer and manager. She glared at me. I glared back.
“I gave you your instructions in the dressing rooms. Obey my commands at all times. When I say break, I want a clean break. In the event of a knock down, I’ll direct you to a neutral corner. I want a clean fight. No low blow, and I will call them. Understood?”
He looked at her. She nodded.
He looked at me.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Protect yourselves at all times. Any questions?”
He looked at her. She shook her head.
He looked at me.
“No, Sir”
“Touch ‘em up.”
I pounded my gloves into hers and turned away.
Ripp patted his hand against my shoulder. “You ready?”
I pounded my gloves together. “Hashtag fuck yes.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jaz
Day one hundred five.
Her intensity was undeniable. From the instant she was within reach, she began to pummel me with two and three punch combinations, leaving me very little choice but to protect myself from being beaten to death.
We knew she was a versatile fighter. She wasn’t champion by accident, that was for sure. She’d been on top for four years, and since becoming champion, she hadn’t been beaten. Having an undefeated record in the amateurs is one thing. Being undefeated in the professional circuit is a completely different animal.
Dekk and Ripp agreed if I could get through a round with her and figure out what her strengths and weaknesses were, the rest of the fight would be able to be fought knowing exactly how to attack her.
Taking the fight to her was my strength, and to date, no one had really done so. Almost every opponent she had fought was forced to fight a defensive fight against her. Being stuck on the receiving end of her punch parade wasn’t on my list of to-do’s, though.
Her barrage of punches stopped. I peered through the space between my gloves and saw an opening.
They said not to attack you in the first round, but I need to know if you can take a punch.
I feigned a right and swung a left hook. The left crashed into her ribcage and caused her to lean to her right as she winced in pain.
Hit hard for a little bitch, don’t I?
As she leaned to her right, exposing her left side to me, I swung a right hook as hard as I could.
At that instant, pissing off Dekk or Ripp wasn’t my concern. I wanted to let her know that she wasn’t in for a free ride. My hand came down hard against her jaw, sending her stumbling toward the ropes.
I rushed toward her, pounding her with shots to the body. One after another, I punched and pushed until she was against the ropes. My attack had only been for a few seconds, but it was a few seconds of absolute hell for her.
My only focus was keeping her against the ropes. There was no hospital, no trainer, no grumpy old men, and no bills to pay. There was a girl against the ropes, and I needed to keep her there for as long as I could.
With my gloves raised just beneath my chin and my elbows tucked to my sides, I shoved my forearms against her, pushing her into the ropes. As she sprung back toward me, I swung an uppercut.
It connected pretty nicely against her chin. She reacted with a straight left that I easily dodged.
I’ve seen enough.
I stepped away from her and moved to the center of the ring. I chose to do it as more of an insult to her than anything. To have her pinned against the ropes and walk away would send a clear message that I was there to fight. She should know it. The crowd would know it, and that was my hope. I needed to get the crowd behind me.
I stood in the center of the ring and glared.
She shook her head, pounded her gloves into her stomach, and began to shuffle toward me.
Come on, bitch. Let’s go.
She had her hands held high as she came toward me. Really high. Her elbows were tucked tight to her sides. It was apparent she didn’t like me hitting her face and she intended on protecting it.
There was only one problem with having her gloves up so high.
It left her mid-section exposed.
I unleashed a six shot combination to her stomach and ribs with all of the power I had saved from the beginning of the round. Her gloves lowered slightly.
I swung a hard straight right and connected with her chin.
Her eyes bulged.
Her legs buckled.
I felt Ripp pound his fist against the mat twice.
I cocked my left hand.
Ding!
The bell sounded, signaling the end of the round.
Consider yourself lucky.
I was getting ready to hurt your ass, bitch.
I turned toward Ripp and began to walk confidently to my corner.
He jumped up and shot me a glare.
Sorry Boss, I just had to hit that bitch.
He reached for my mouthpiece. “What the fuck were you doing?”
“Seeing if she can take a punch.”
“Huge mistake lettin’ her off those fuckin’ ropes. It’s pretty fuckin’ clear she can’t fight on the ropes. Get her back on ‘em and take it to her. You hear me?”
I nodded.
“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he snapped back.
I swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.”
“No fucking around. No showboatin’. No bullshit. Get that bitch on the ropes and keep her there. She don’t like it. Now, listen up. One more thing. Your hard right? Follow it up with the left hook. Not a jab, and damned sure not an uppercut. A hook to the head. Hard right, hook to the head. Got it?”
I nodded.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“Hard right. Hook to the head. Keep her on the ropes.”
It seemed like I was only resting for two or three seconds and he slipped in my mouthpiece.
Ding!
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jaz
Day one hundred five.
She came at me as soon as the bell rang, trying to get me against the ropes. I used my leg strength to keep her from pushing me around, and my quick hands to remind her I wasn’t going to be an easy win.
I pushed her off, and she swung a hard right hand into my ribs.
Fuck that hurts!
A left jab followed, and a right came immediately behind it.
Every one of her punches connected. And. They. Hurt.
Angered, I swung a wild left. It glanced off her shoulder. I followed up with a right hook, and the punch glanced off her hip.
She caught me with a hard right hand to the head, knocking me goofy for a split second.
I shoved my gloves into her tits and shook my head.
Oh, you wanna fight?
I stepped toward her, leading with my left foot, shuffling my right close behind. As the gap between us closed, I pressed the ball of my right foot into the mat, lifted my heel, and plowed her in the face with a hard right hand.
The punch caused her to stumble.
You can thank Kelsey for that.
I gave her a shot to the ribs and then lit her up with a quick five punch combination. When the punches stopped, she looked bac
k at me with wide eyes.
I didn’t come to box, bitch.
I came to brawl.
She swung a left hook that connected hard with my ribs. I countered with an uppercut that fell short, and then a right to her bicep. The punch to her bicep seemed to cause her more pain than anything, which struck me as odd.
I swung a wild left and followed it up with another right. The right slammed into her bicep again.
Her face contorted in pain.
Something wrong with that arm, Shockwave?
I pounded it again.
She turned to the side.
I pounded it again.
She swung a wild right.
I hit her with a hard right. The punch caught her right in the center of the chin.
Fighting amateur bouts, boxers are required to wear headgear. The cushioned pad that surrounds the head protects the fighters from concussions, cuts, and being badly bruised from being hit.
In professional boxing, there is no such head protection worn.
By my guess, when my hard right hand blasted against her chin, she wished she had some.
She stumbled toward the ropes.
Oh shit!
I rushed toward her and began to work the body. She continued to stumble backward, still trying to recover from my hard right. A few seconds later, and we were against the ropes.
I pummeled her torso with a six shot combo, and swung a left hook into the side of her neck, barely missing her head. I followed with a right into her bicep, which caused her right hand to come down slightly.
I raised my gloves to my face, and shoved against her with my elbows while I planned the next stage of my attack.
A hard left slamming into my hip brought me out of my deep thinking. She hit hard, and I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
Hard right, hook to the head. Hard right, hook to the head.
I worked her body hard and took a short step back and studied her. Her left glove was hanging low. I blasted her with a hard right, and followed with a left hook. The hook caught her on the chin, twisting her face to the side and making her weak in the knees.
I followed up with four hard body shots and then stepped back.
Come on, bitch, let’s fucking brawl!
I felt a pounding on the mat. Twice. Ripp’s signal to me that the round was ending.
DIRTY READS Page 33
