by T M Kelly
“We have twenty-four hours until weigh-in. This isn’t about leisure.”
“Yes, sir.”
The treadmill was facing a wall with a mirror. There were other fighters running on either side of me. I envisioned we were at a race, and I needed to get ahead. I felt like I needed to run faster, so I hit the button two more times.
“Over-achiever,” Julian said from behind me.
I ignored him and kept my mind focused on the end game.
Throwing a pair of sweats and T-shirt over my blue bikini, I tapped Julian’s fists. “Here’s hoping our scale is the same as theirs.”
“It is. I promise.” He cupped his hand behind my neck and squeezed. “Go out their looking confident. You know you have this in the bag?”
That was how Chuck Anders had taught Julian to present himself when he was starting with AFC. From what Julian told me, Chuck was possibly psychic the way he just knew shit. For the last few days, Julian shared all the things Chuck had taught him. Now that AFC was bigger after a decade of working with amazing fighters, Chuck was not working one-on-one anymore. Julian was lucky to have had his experience with him, and I was lucky to get to hear all about it.
I pushed my shoulders back and held my head up high. Kicking the door open with my foot, I watched the room erupt in cheers, and flashes went off in all directions.
There was an announcer at the front of the room on a stage, several AFC workers, and a scale placed right in the center of the stage. As I walked up, I didn’t let myself think about my clothing choice. I lifted my shirt up over my head and slid my pants down, pulling them off with my feet. I walked to the scale, stepped up, and waited.
“One thirty-four point five.” the AFC official yelled loud enough for the room to hear.
I held my arms up and flexed my muscles. Fuck, I did it.
I stepped back down off the scale and walked over to where Cheyanne was waiting for the photo-op. I was in fight mode as I looked over at my opponent. Holding up our fists, we faced off for the cameras. Then I stepped back, shook her hand, and walked away before she had a chance to say some shit.
As I stepped off the stage, Julian handed me my clothes so I could quickly put them back on. He gave me a slight smile but made no move to touch me. When we reached the locker room and the door was closed, Julian picked me up and spun me around.
“How the hell did I manage to drop a pound?” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Hey, who the fuck cares,” Julian said and kissed me. “You did it and that’s all that matters.”
Twelve hours before the fight would take place and I get a call from my lawyer. “I can’t do this right now,” I said, pacing the length of the living room.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Waters,” my mom’s lawyer said. “Your mom was put into hospice care yesterday.”
I sat down on the edge of the couch. “Fuck. I have a fight in twelve hours. Why did you call me today?”
“She is asking for you.”
“Of course she is.” I sighed and stood back up. “How long did the doctors give her?”
“They said her one kidney is shut down. So it will happen in stages more than likely.”
Mom had apparently been squirreling food away, basically making it look like she was eating. She collapsed two days ago and now was in hospice care. Her body was shutting down, and she wanted to say goodbye to me.
I didn’t need this before a fight.
“Thanks.” I knew he was just doing his job. “I will get over there as soon as I can. I can’t promise anything.”
“I understand. Have a good fight.”
I threw my phone on the other end of the couch. Throwing my hands over my face, I muffled out my screams. A light touch on my shoulder startled me, and I glanced around to see who was there. The room was empty.
“Dad.” I sat back down on the couch. “I have tried to hate her, but I can’t.”
I knew I was talking to myself or if you believe…my dad’s ghost.
“She doesn’t deserve to die alone and without family. It’s not how you raised me.”
There was a brush across my cheek. I reached up and touched the side of my face.
“Let me focus on this fight, and then I will take care of Mom. I promise.”
The back door was open, but only the desert heat was showing love today. Suddenly a gust of window blew my hair in a few different directions.
I smiled and blew a kiss toward the door. People would think I was crazy if I ever told them this story. I was just thankful to have my dad still by my side.
“Who was that?” Julian walked in from the backyard.
“The lawyer.”
He turned his head to the side. “You look…what?”
“Sad.”
“What is it?” He wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Mom.”
First the fight. Then family.
I felt like I had my priorities ass-backwards.
34
“Take control. Where’s your arms?” I heard Julian yell from the outside of the octagon.
Cheyanne was looming over me, punching my face and chest. It was hard to avoid the blows. I knew I needed to get control of the situation. I wrapped my legs around her body and tried to push her down.
“Arms. Arms. Arms,” Julian was screaming.
I moved my arms in between hers and pushed them out.
“Now fall to the side. Fall,” Julian yelled.
With the sounds of the arena and the adrenaline rush, it was not easy to hear what Julian was saying. I had to reach down deep and keep myself focused. When Julian yelled, it felt like my dad was standing next to him telling him what to say.
Right as I had control of her arms and planned to fall to the mat, the bell rang for the end of the third round. I sighed and it took me a second to catch my breath. When we stood up, we tapped fists before going to our corners.
There was blood running down my cheek. “I got it,” Brooks said, wiping my face with a towel. “You need to get control of this round to keep it tied.”
“I know.” I took a drink of water between breaths.
Charlie had two bags full of ice, one on my back and one on my chest. “Can you concentrate with Julian barking at you?”
“Yeah, it’s helping oddly enough.” I smiled and glanced over at Julian. He was talking to Chuck. “Fuck.”
Brooks moved my face in front of him. “Focus on what is happening now. You know what you need to do.” He rubbed some Vaseline on the cut just above my left eye. “You haven’t been kicking. Why?”
“I don’t know.” I pressed the back of my hand to my temple where the throbbing was taking up space.
“Leave it,” he said, grabbing my hand. “You need to figure it out and soon.” He stepped aside to let me stand up.
The bell rang, and I stepped forward to tap Cheyanne’s fist. Then she surprised me by throwing a high kick, but I ducked just in time.
“Your turn,” Julian yelled. “You can do better than that shit.”
We bounced around for several minutes. I attempted to throw a few punches but never made serious contact. The cut above my eye was pissing me off and would not stop bleeding. I did the stupid move and wiped my hand across my forehead, which smeared the blood into the corner of my eye. There was still one more round after this, and I was starting to show signs of weakness. I had to find it in me to get this done.
Without warning, Cheyanne leaped forward and threw out a left hook that landed squarely on my jaw. I heard a crack and stumbled back as the pain shot through my body. The fence may have stopped my fall, but Cheyanne never hesitated and jumped forward to pounce on me. I brought my arms up to keep her away from my face. I had a feeling my jaw was broken, but I didn’t have time to think about that right now. Something ignited from deep inside me, and I pushed her away, ignoring the pain. She yelled a few words and tried to throw another high kick. The moment she was in mid-spin for the kick, I was careful with how I
grabbed her leg and held it with one arm. When she reached forward, I wrapped my arm around her neck, letting go of her leg. We both twisted and turned as she struggled to get out of the hold. As her back was against me, I tightened my grip around her neck with both my arms, and within seconds, I saw her tap her hand twice. I had just completed the perfect rear naked choke.
When the referee reached in to pull her away from my body, I fell to the mat.
Brooks sat down beside me. “You did it, Lily. You fucking did it.”
“Did I?” I whispered. The moment I spoke, the pain intensified around my jaw.
He helped me up and pointed to the on-sight doctor. “Grab her a shirt, Charlie.” He helped me over to the little wooden stool and bent down in front of me. “That was crazy.”
The doctor moved Brooks to the side and looked over my injuries for several minutes. He asked a few questions, but I could only nod yes or no. Then I was whisked to the center of the octagon where they would announce the winner.
The referee held both our hands. My body shook from excitement. I was still on an adrenaline rush and knew the moment I came down, the pain in my body was going to be insane. As the referee lifted my arm up and announced the new Bantamweight champion, the sounds in the arena were deafening. I found Chuck standing at the entrance to the octagon with a smile plastered on his face. How did he know this would happen? Was Julian right and the man was psychic?
Chuck Anders held up the belt and walked over. “I knew you were a winner, Lily.”
With my teeth clenched to avoid the pain when talking, I carefully said, “How?”
His words caught me off guard. “Your dad taught you well.” Then he placed the belt around my waist.
Cheyanne wrapped her arm around my neck, and we touched foreheads. “You good?”
“Yeah, you?” I said, almost inaudible.
“Yup. Good fight.” We bumped fists and she walked away.
Julian wrapped his arms around my waist. “Let’s get you to the hospital, Little Punisher.”
I turned to face him and wished I could talk at the moment. Maybe it was good thing I couldn’t because I really didn’t know what to say. Well, except did I really fight like my dad?
Was I really the Little Punisher?
One thing I did know, I was a fucking Bantamweight Champion.
35
Six weeks later…
“How’s that feel?” the doctor asked, removing the last of the wire that held my jaw shut for six long weeks.
“Can I open and close like normal?” I rubbed my jaw. “I can talk again.” Holding my arms up, I cheered for talking and eating like a normal person.
“Oh lovely, I better go buy some ear plugs,” Charlie teased from the corner of the room.
I held my middle finger up. “You know you missed my Chatty Cathy ways.” The six weeks felt like six years. Cheyanne had done a good job when she’d kicked me, because I was right; I did fracture the left side of my jaw. “Please don’t make me look at mashed potatoes ever again.”
The doctor finished his examination and moved his chair back. “Open your mouth wide but carefully. Now close it slowly. How do you feel? Not about mashed potatoes, but is your jaw feeling weak? Any sharp pains?”
“No, I feel great.”
“Okay, if you have any problems just call the office.” The doctor stood and walked over to open the door. “Try to avoid those high kicks.” He winked as Charlie and I walked past him.
“So, what should we eat first?” Charlie rubbed her hands together.
“Pizza. No, triple layer chocolate cake.” I drooled just thinking about them.
She patted my back. “Let’s get both. I have a feeling you could eat a rat on a stick.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Ms. Waters,” the woman at the receptionist desk said, standing up.
“Oh, did I owe you some money?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “My son was at your last fight. Is it possible to get an autograph for him?”
After six weeks of stepping foot in this office, it was the first time I had seen this woman. “Um, sure.” I grabbed a pen. “What’s your son’s name?”
“Jack.”
I wrote a quick note and signed my name. This time was different when I passed the autograph back to the woman. I was now a champion and had to look at my fans differently. Fans. Did I really have them?
“Tell him thank you for the support.”
This new life I was given felt weird still.
I was so thankful for Chuck Anders believing in me.
“Think that bite is big enough?” Julian poked my side as I stuffed what probably looked like half the slice of pizza in my mouth. I could only mumble my acceptance.
Charlie and I met Brooks and Julian at New York-New York Hotel and Casino for lunch. I knew there were other places to get pizza, but I loved good ol’ New York style. We were sitting at one of the outside cafes when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Turning around, I found Candace behind me. “Hey, you,” I said, standing up and giving her a big hug. “Hungry?”
“You better eat some quick before Lily stuffs the rest of it into her pie hole.” Charlie stifled a laugh.
“You judge until you walk in my shoes.”
Candace laughed. “So the broken jaw was no picnic, eh?”
“If I have to look at another bowl of broth or fucking pile of mashed potatoes, I will sucker punch someone.”
“Only pizza love over here.” Candace put her arms up in surrender.
“I can deal with that.” I pointed to an empty chair. “Join us.” Then I moved closer to Julian to give her room. “So what are you doing over here?”
“Oh, you know, work fun,” she said, reaching for a slice of pizza. “I have been meaning to call you, though.”
“Yeah, about what?”
“Chuck mentioned the memorial fund you want to create.”
“Oh, yeah. Charlie is doing most of the backend work at the moment.”
“Well, I would love to write a special piece on The Punisher and the rising star also known as Little Punisher.”
I didn’t know where to begin. This very thought had been running around in my mind for several weeks. Chuck Anders told me the day I signed the contract with AFC I would win the championship. How he knew still baffled me. He then told me the next big moment would be the big reveal, my dad. Then he ensured everything else would fall into place perfectly.
My mind was still wrapped around the thought of fans flipping out because The Punisher was my dad. Then the thought of my mom linked to my dad would create an uproar. When I sat down and let all those worries muddle around in my mind, I knew I was probably over reacting.
I did love when my close friends called me Little Punisher.
Candace touched my arm. “You built this career on your own, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then giving fans more of who you are could only help you.”
“Or break me.” I sighed.
“Nope, it won’t. I have been doing this long enough.”
I did want the secrets out in the open. When I won the title, I thought about my dad and saying thank you during the post-interview. I sat up and slammed my fist down on the table. “Okay, let’s fucking do this.”
“Really?” Candace said, sounding surprised.
“You better run and start the article before I change my mind,” I said, reaching for another piece of pizza.
“I will call you tomorrow.”
My mouth was full, so I nodded.
I really hoped I didn’t make a career ending decision.
“Look,” Julian handed me his tablet. “Your article is on the front page.”
I sat down beside him at the kitchen island and started to read.
Before mixed martial arts became a sport, men and women were in the back alleys of every major city fighting for money. What we know now as MMA really didn’t come to light as
a true sport until the early nineties.
Johnny “The Punisher” Adams started his career on the streets and found a way to finally carry his gift of fighting over into an octagon. But that would take several years and many broken bones before he would even get noticed by the owner of the AFC.
The Punisher had a special style of fighting all his own. It’s like reading your favorite author, and you know exactly what kind of story they will deliver. Or enjoying scenic photos that have a style unique to the one specific photographer. When you watched Johnny in the octagon you got excited and hoped he would do his classic kick. Then the moment he lifted his leg, you stood up in anticipation for what would happen next.
The punisher lived up to his name because he never backed down, never gave up, and didn’t care if he had a broken bone.
Why are we reminiscing over the late great Johnny Adams?
Well, we have a surprise for all the mixed martial arts fans out there.
Johnny’s style and grace rubbed off onto someone very special.
This woman we are about to discuss was encouraged to change her name and build her career on her own. Think about that for a moment. You have to do what The Punisher did so long ago all by yourself. That’s terrifying, right?
Or is it?
Lily Waters didn’t think so. Nope, she followed in her father’s footsteps and carried on his legacy silently.
Let’s break the silence.
Don’t you think it’s time for her to come out of the shadows and share the stage with her father?
Before you get upset and think she was lying to you. Let’s get one thing straight: her father drove her to the social security office and helped her fill out the paperwork to change her name. Her father encouraged her to be who she wanted to be without The Punisher helping along the way.
I wiped a tear that escaped. “Shit, she did a beautiful job.” Resting my head on Julian’s shoulder, I read the rest of the article.
