by Nikki Wild
“Well then,” I improvised. “Why not just go out for a ride or something? Feel the breeze on your hair, you know. Stuff like that. Why pace around when you can just get out some steam on your motorcycle? You’re a big, tough motorcycle guy, right? Go do motorcycle junk.”
He looked at me with an odd expression on his face.
Oh shit, did I say too much?
“Yeah…that’s actually not a bad idea,” he thought aloud. “But I might be gone for a few hours. Lots of road, lots of stress to burn…”
“You go do that. I’ll be fine.”
He turned towards the stairs to the upper landing, then stopped and turned. “What are you going to do, Saffie?”
“I dunno!” I shrugged, still kneeling on the couch and watching him over the back. “I was reading earlier, might pick that back up. There’s also Netflix. Might go out to a club again–”
“To a what?” He suddenly looked furious, taking a few steps towards me.
“To a…club…look, you weren’t here, remember? I had to do something to keep myself entertained while you were still being your asshole self…”
I cowered down, afraid that he was going to lash out at me again. He staggered towards me in a blind rage.
“Saffron.”
“Y…yes?”
He glowered down at me, but his expression changed subtly. It was just enough for me to straighten my back, looking up at him meekly.
“I’m your stepbrother. I’m responsible for you. You know you’re not supposed to leave this house… And besides that… I’m not going to let another man touch you, understand?”
“No, actually…that’s sort of my decision, right?”
“No it’s not. Not now.” He growled. It became clear to me that he was holding back the majority of his anger, but he was still fuming down at me.
Oh, great. Now the cage-fighting brother is going to do the whole overprotective “I’m a big, tough guy, and I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who touches my sister” act.
It was kind of a turn-on.
“Well…I can’t promise anything.”
“Yes you can.”
“Okay, what then? We’ll see if I’ll play along.”
It was dangerous to push his buttons while he was mad…but I enjoyed it. I’d grown to delight in being on this side of our little rivalry, or whatever the fuck I’d call his cocky arrogance.
“You will promise me that you won’t go out to one of those clubs, bars, any of that alone. Understood? You’re safe here. I don’t know if you’re safe out there. And if something does happen to you…”
I thought about winding him up, but he was being so sincerely furious about this…and it was a reasonable request.
“I promise.”
“You promise what.”
I sighed. “I promise that I won’t go to a club or bar without company, and that if something happens to me, I’ll tell you anything.”
Sawyer hovered, staring down at me, before his shoulders began to sag. “Good,” he muttered. “I don’t need to worry about you getting yourself into any trouble, on top of everything else I have to deal with…but for what it’s worth…I’m sorry.”
I was confused. “What are you sorry about?”
“I shouldn’t have been so inaccessible,” he confessed. “I should have been around more, able to handle…”
He let the thought wander.
I glanced over at the clock again. “You’d better get going, Sawyer. You’re going to be late for your…drive. I mean, why not go ahead and get it out of your system now?”
My stepbrother looked at me oddly again, wondering what I knew, and then followed my gaze to the clock. “Shit, you’re right,” he replied. “I mean, why not? Why wait. I’d better get going now.”
“You’ve got it,” I nodded, feeling for my smartphone in my pajama pocket. It felt reassuring under my fingertips – a breach, yes, but a constant connection to him. “I’ll just sit back here and relax. You go have fun. Do whatever you have to.”
“Right…” he murmured, shaking his head. He disappeared upstairs, then back down with a duffle bag and his motorcycle helmet. After opening the door, he hesitated, turning towards me.
“Listen, Saffron…”
Buried in a Netflix queue, I turned over my shoulder. He sounded concerned, and that briefly worried me. “Yeah? What is it?”
“I just want you to know…” he paused, fumbling for words. “I have always enjoyed being around you. If I’ve never told you…I’m happy to have you as part of my family.”
I smiled wide. “You haven’t…and now that you treat me a little better, I can say the same for you. Good luck.”
He nodded, reflecting on the last part of what I’d said. It didn’t take much to see the cogs spin in his head, reaching the right conclusion. I halfway expected him to grow furious again; he’d drop his things and fly back across the room, demanding that I promise I wouldn’t try to go visit him during the fight. It’d turn into a fight, or maybe I’d just lie and tell him I wouldn’t go.
Instead, he glanced at me knowingly and nodded.
“I don’t need luck. I’m ready for this.”
“Knock ‘em dead, Sawyer.”
He flashed me a grin, and closed the door behind himself. I followed him from the couch with my smartphone, watching the signal stop at New Horizons, and checked my email for the pre-purchased anonymous ticket. That was harder since Dad took away my credit cards. I had to use an old paypal account. The site had loaded poorly on my phone – I’d just bought the ticket for the only fight that was shown for the night, even without getting to see any of the major details.
With everything fallen into place, the only thing to do was to place a beacon for a driver to arrive. I took the opportunity to change, and waited impatiently outside until the driver arrived – a bearded hipster with black-rimmed glasses.
“New Horizons,” I told him. “Do you know the place?”
“Hell yeah! You’re going to go check out the fight? Now’s the time…that thing’s gonna start in about thirty minutes!”
I smiled mischievously as I climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re damned right I am. Think you can get me there before it starts?”
“You got it.”
We kicked it into gear and drove around the late Saturday night traffic, caught at a few more red lights than I would have liked. But he still made it there in reasonable time, and I checked the time on my phone.
Crap. The fight’s already starting.
I showed my ticket to the guy at the door. Curtains had been hung along the glass, hiding the interior from sight, although I could already hear some cheering through the walls.
“We’re just locking up, little miss. You’re lucky you’re here now.”
“Sorry, traffic was a nightmare…”
“Better run along inside. The crowd’s rough tonight.”
“Is it?” I peered into the gym as he held the door open. He was right – it was a complete mess, a massive wave of beer-soaked spectators, angling for a show. I could see that there were already three people in the ring – Saywer, whomever his opponent was, and what looked like a referee. “Dammit, I come all this way and I’m not going to get a good spot…”
“Well, that’s why I encourage you arrive earlier,” the doorman told me firmly. “Hell, we had people here two hours ago.”
“But I’m his sister!” I muttered. “Is there, like, a VIP section or something?”
“Hold on, you’re Bonesaw’s sister?” He looked over at the ring, then back to me, and then back again. “You don’t really look like him all that much…I mean, I guess there’s a bit of a–”
“Stepsister,” I corrected myself. “He might not have mentioned me, actually…”
“Well…it’s true that you’re going to have a terrible spot, no matter what. And these guys are taller than you…you might as well not even be here, unless you plan on hanging out way back here.” He looked around outside,
then ushered me in, locking the door behind himself. “Look, the owner’s up front with the lead trainer. They’re sweet on cute little things like you. Let’s see if we can get you a decent spot.”
“Oh my god, seriously? You are my best freaking friend right now.”
“Eh, don’t mention it,” he chuckled. “I’m not promising you anything, though. Come with me – stay close. These guys are rowdy.”
The doorman personally escorted me through the throng. He was a bigger guy himself – not quite bodybuilder level, but tall and broad, capable of forcing himself through the mob. He held me by the arm as we pushed through, gently guiding me and keeping me close.
I could hear that the opponents hadn’t started fighting yet. In fact, they seemed to be having a conversation. But this wasn’t the usual, theatrical mockery that seemed to go on before these fights…it was something deeper.
I just couldn’t understand a word of it over the crowd.
As we poked through the very front, the referee looked exasperated, calling out in a startlingly loud voice. “Now that sharing time is over, maybe we can get this shit-show back on the fucking road!” He waved over to Sawyer. “I’m proud to announce the return of the legend, a man who has shed blood in this very cage time and time again…Boooonesaaaaw!”
The crowd roared, but the doorman immediate grabbed the attention of two guys nearby. One was clearly a stacked bodybuilder, and the other was this thin, spindly Rasta dude.
“Hey! This girl’s the last one in! She’s never going to get a seat! Can she hang out up here?”
“Jeremy, for the last freaking time,” the bodybuilder grumbled loudly. “You’re always soft on the chicks! She should have showed up earlier! Send her to the back! We’re not running–”
“Wait, Darren!” The doorman cut him off. “She says that she’s his sister!”
The two of them turned to stare at me, and I heard the referee shout out: “A vicious cage fighter, hailing from the seediest depths of Phoenix, Arizona…I give you the lightning, the wise-cracker, the Jaabbeeerjaaaw!”
Darren the bodybuilder was at my side in an instant, his ear next to my face. “Look! Nobody knows Bonesaw’s real name! If you’re really his sister, whisper it in my ear!”
“Sawyer. Sawyer Samuels,” I told him.
He paused, staring at me with wide eyes, and then a wider grin.
“She’s good, Jeremy! Leave her here!”
“Sure thing!”
The crowd was thrashing, and he pulled me aside to shield me as the referee continued.
“As a special treat tonight, all restrictions are lifted. No tap-outs, no guild rules. This is an unregulated bout with anything-goes rules until knockout!”
I looked over at the two of them – the bodybuilder and the other guy. I pieced together that he was probably the owner of the joint, as Darren turned and shouted at him, barely audibly over the crowd: “What the fuck did you do?”
“Look, man!” Luke sheepishly responded, holding up his hands. “It was just business, man! It’s a business transaction! Bonesaw told me to keep the money and keep this place going, and I got offered a–”
Darren grabbed him by the collar, just as the doorman pushed me towards the two of them. The crowd roared, and I swept myself over to Darren’s side, suddenly fearful of what was going on in the cage. I didn’t quite understand what this meant…but it didn’t sound good.
I could hear the referee continuing, but my attention was completely centered on the two of them. What they were saying sounded way more important…and it terrified me. They both paused as the referee ducked out of the cage and hesitated – before locking it and turning regretfully towards Sawyer.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Darren continued, his rage only building higher. “If this guy is anywhere near Bonesaw’s level…” he pointed towards the ring, glowering down at Luke, “then you just signed Bonesaw’s fucking death certificate.”
The buzzer rang out, and the referee boomed: “FIGHT!”
Eighteen
Sawyer
Pensacola, Present Day
The buzzer kicked us into gear, and we began to circle one another. Instead of launching into an immediate brawl, we watched for any weaknesses – any openings to exploit or missteps to use to our advantage.
This wasn’t going to be a good, clean fight.
It was a duel, and it was going to get ugly.
“Gotta admit,” Jabberjaw chuckled aloud, “Bonesaw’s a real clever name. Wish I’d thought of it, myself. Sure as shit know you didn’t come up with that. Who did?”
“The fans,” I answered as we continued to circle one another, hovering a few feet away from the fence walls. “First cage-fighting match I was in, someone in the crowd drunkenly called it out. It caught on. Then they started chanting my name.”
“Heh, what a story,” Jabberjaw grinned wickedly. “Wonder how high those beautiful fans of yours will carry you when you’re asleep on the mat? How much blood will I spill before you give up, Fucker?”
“HEY!” We both turned, staring into the dark throng of spectators all around. “You two bitches gonna fight, or are you gonna just dance around?”
Jabberjaw grinned like a madman. “Suck my cock, you piece of shit! You’re starin’ at history in the making, motherfucka! This fucker’s an old friend of mine, see? We go WAY back!”
“I don’t give a flying fuck!” Another voice rang out.
“This ain’t about you, you piece of shit! This is about HIM and ME!” true to his new name, Jabberjaw was basking in the moment.
I wondered how long he’d waited for this. Who knows how he found me. When he figured things out, he must have followed me for ages, and my stupid Twitter account had kept him up to date on how active I was staying, who I was fighting, and crucially where I was.
If he’d been jumping for the chance to strike me in an unsanctioned bout, then I’d been a complete fool. I had handed him the perfect opportunity on a silver platter. Announcing my presence would have tipped him, and he would have understood that was the first time in years that I was fighting in a back-end cage. Somewhere that might have malleable rules.
Everything my opponent had needed would have fallen into place with admirable precision.
It wouldn’t have taken him much to track down Luke and sweeten the deal for him. Everything from volunteering as the opponent and throwing out the rulebook would have been on the table, given Luke’s equal penchant for capitalizing on opportunities. And if Jabberjaw had been winning fights for years and played it smart…it would have been within his means to hop a same-week flight straight here.
He had already been training in the shadows for years, hoping for a crack at me in the cage. My enemy came prepared.
Yep. Definitely fucked.
The crowd was starting to boo harder as we watched each other, constantly moving but never taking the first step. Whoever broke first was going to lose – but I had a reputation to uphold. This guy came out of nowhere, as far as the spectators were concerned. If I didn’t make a move soon, it was going to look like I was just scared of the stranger.
And the smirk on his face told me that he knew it.
Fuck it.
I closed the distance with a powerful swing.
As expected, he easily dodged the blow, weaving away instead of trying to counterattack. I held my forearms up, and he bounced lightly back and forth in his stance, fists at the ready but unwilling to launch a jab.
I threw another punch, holding back in strength. He ducked to the side, pulling backwards with the step. Again, he refused to throw an attack.
Gonna be like, huh? I thought to myself. He’s going to tire me out first…draw out my humiliation.
I needed to get him to the ground. It was the only way I’d be able to keep him from darting away like a skittish, impish scamp with every moment. But the cage wouldn’t let me pin him into a corner, and he wasn’t about to lose the advantage of space anytime soon.
&nb
sp; Jabberjaw was completely focused, eyes locked onto mine. He’d read my movements and expertly flow around my thrusts. When fatigue finally forced me to make subtle, tired mistakes, the viper would rise with its fangs at the ready.
I launched another blow, effortlessly dodged.
One good strike, I thought to myself. I need to surprise him. But how?
It dawned on me – matched in its simplicity only by its stupidity. I’d been busy analyzing him, studying his motions and looking for an opening…and it was true that I might spot something. There might be a desperate, subtle flaw in his fighting style, something to give me the higher ground. More likely, though, was that I was right – he was going to tire me out while I paced around, struggling to spot a crucial weakness, and then he was going to destroy me. I’d been going about it all wrong, trying to figure him out. All I needed had been obvious to me before the match even started – I’d assessed him and figured out every detail I required to come out on top and win the match.
Because that’s not how I lived my life.
I acted on instinct.
It was the way I’d always been, and the only reason I’d made it this far. Everything from motorcycling to escaping the police raid had been by watching and simply reacting. It was my strength – never overthinking, only letting my body do the work.
That’s all that I had to do.
I lost myself in the flow, letting go of all my biting frustration and desperate analysis. A wave of calm overcame me, tempered by anger. I was an efficient, oiled fighting machine once more, stripped of any brain processes beyond understanding my current limitations and focusing on the slippery jackass who faced me.
“That’s right,” he smiled with wide eyes, relishing in whatever he saw in my emotionless gaze. “That’s what I wanted to see. I know exactly what fighting you looks like – I’ve seen you flatten motherfuckers like nothing. I want you fighting me at your fucking peak, man…and when I annihilate you, Sawyer, I want you to understand that I didn’t need any tricks to do it.”
“Stop talking,” I commanded. “Fight me.”
