by Ward, Alice
“As a woman fighter, your fans are interested to know what drives you into the ring with each fight. Do you have a lot of anger to dispel?”
I blinked at the question. It wasn’t that I was specifically an angry person… just had a lot of frustration to let out. “All of my life, my parents worked so hard on our farm in Pike County, Indiana, yet even after moving to Louisville, we still barely make ends meet.”
I locked my jaw, images swirling through my head of all the nice things people had around me. How they could go out to eat when they wanted or see a movie on a whim while my teenage brother, Sage, wore the same pair of jeans down to threads. It didn’t feel right that we struggled so hard.
“And that motivated you,” the reporter prompted, staring at my tits.
“Yeah. My dad’s passing away was an unrecoverable event for my family. So I started fighting to pay the bills.”
“Fighting’s a great outlet. Do you still attend college and take MMA classes?”
Heat rose to my cheeks as I admitted all the ways in which I’d failed. “I actually quit college.” I shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It had just been way too time consuming and I needed to work to take care of my family. All the MMA classes within reach of the bus were so far out of my price range they might as well have been on another planet, and the boxing gyms weren’t much better. I knew I would never be able to swing their stratospheric costs and resigned myself to just training on my own.”
And just fantasizing about being in the ring.
I pivoted, grabbed the table behind me and did an assisted reverse chest stretch.
The reporter swallowed so hard I heard the click of his throat. “What, um, how did you meet your trainer?”
I blew out a breath and shrugged like it hadn’t been a big deal, like hanging at that old smoky hole in the wall place with my best friend, Grace Powell, hadn’t been the only sunny spot some weeks. “I got lucky. Broke up a fight at a bar I went to pretty regularly. Hawk was there, but I blew him off at first because I thought his name was cheesy as hell.” I snorted. Hawk had set up this interview and paybacks were hell, but I’d risk his anger for the laugh. “He invited me to see his training grounds and fighters before slipping me a business card. Of course, I showed up the next day.”
I’d been uncertain and cautious, and just as anxious to get my hands wrapped and get in the ring. But I’d been wary. His interest had seemed too good to be true, and good things didn’t happen to me or my family. We worked and fought for everything we had, but it was never enough.
Hawk had called bullshit on that. He’d been all about defying my family’s bad luck. He greeted me with genuine interest, took me on a tour, and the next thing I knew, I was associated with an underground fighting ring.
“Did you fight right from the beginning?”
“My involvement started out small. At first, I was only a ring girl, walking around with a sign signaling which round the fight was in. I had a short bit as a referee. That was fun, but I longed for more action. Then, after just six months of training, I had my first fight.”
“Hawk had very specific plans for you. Can you tell me a little about that?”
I barely kept myself from snorting. In all honesty, Hawk had wanted me to be his outlier, his underdog. To reel in tons of people who would bet against me and bet high on an opponent, only to end up losing to the house. But I couldn’t tell this reporter that.
“Yeah, he put me up against a guy who had twenty-five pounds on me and a face that looked more Cro-Magnon than human.” Thinking about that first fight made me smile, and some of the nerves bubbling in my stomach went to a low simmer.
The nerdy reporter’s eyes lit up. “I was there, and it was tough to watch, with you taking hit after hit until the third round.”
The third round was when I had permission from Hawk to let loose. “I was there too. It sucked.”
The reporter chuckled. “Then you turned the tables. The crowd went absolutely wild when you got your opponent into a chokehold that he just couldn’t escape, winning the fight when he promptly passed out.” He gave me a lopsided grin.
“That wasn’t my best moment, but it may have been my happiest. I’m not some undefeated maverick by any stretch of the word, but I’ve won more than I’ve lost.”
The underdog angle could only work for so long though, especially since I kept winning fight after fight after fight.
“You picked up the name Cherry Bomb. Did that come from your name and the bright red lipstick you’re known to wear in every match, or the fact that Hawk plays up your ‘explosive’ fighting style?”
I pursed my lips, tasting the red gloss that was, indeed, my trademark. I didn’t mind the questions but wanted to keep some mystery about me going. “I think what’s important is that our fights began drawing a lot more women once I started fighting. Where before there had only been the occasional girlfriend, or ring girl, or hardcore fan, our audience shifted until females made up somewhere around thirty percent.”
“That’s true. I’ve heard that after your stints in the ring, you often have women come to you and tell you how much you inspired them to join the sport, or leave their abusive relationship, or report their boss who was sexually harassing them. That your determination inspired them to overcome something in their own lives.”
I breathe that in for a moment, and to my horror, tears prick the backs of my eyes. Bending to touch my toes, I hid my face while I pulled my shit together. To think I inspired anyone was hard to believe.
When I was more composed, I stood back up. “That’s always a bit overwhelming… and humbling. It’s so strange to think that a farm girl from Pike County, Indiana — population 12,845 — is somehow making a difference in people’s lives by busting the faces of bigger opponents, but it is what it is. I don’t let it go to my head because I know all too well how all of it could fall apart in an instant.”
Ugh. Thinking about that made my stomach twist.
“This cage fight could be a real turning point for you. You could go from one of Hawk’s preferred fighters to the star fighter. And who knows, maybe even try turning to the more legitimate side of the sport to avoid slumming it in the underground.”
At that, my chin came up. I’d been slumming it my whole life, and while I wouldn’t turn down a chance at more, I was grateful for what I had. At the same time, I wanted bigger, better things.
The reporter’s eyes widened. “Forget that question. What the… fans really want to know is, do you have a boyfriend?”
I frowned.
Clink, clink signaled the curtain behind me being pushed to the side and I turned as Hawk stepped into the space.
Skinny and hook-nosed, with a broad grin — bigger and broader now than I’d ever seen — he looked more like he would be a chef than organizing illegal fights. “We got a real crowd out there, Sweet Cherry Pie.”
“Good. All the more people to see me beat a giant.”
“Careful there,” Hawk warned amiably, clapping my back. “I taught you to be confident, not cocky.” Turning his gaze toward the reporter, he nodded. “That’ll be all, Cecil. Remember, no mention of location if you want to continue to interview my fighters.”
The reporter stumbled over himself to agree, as if he knew disclosing the location would more than likely end with a fist to his nose, and backed out of the prep area and disappeared on the other side of the curtain.
I couldn’t help but smile. Hawk was technically super shady, considering he was running a sort of criminal empire, but he always treated his fighters with the utmost respect. He’d never come on to me, or cheated me or the other fighters, or ordered any of us to throw a match. He was good to us, and that was what mattered.
“Sorry. I let that go on too long. This just means a lot to me.”
“Don’t let that psych you out. I know that the kids and your mama weigh on you, but we’ll take care of you no matter what. You’re family. I’m not gonna let you down if you lose this fig
ht.”
“Thanks.” I heaved a breath. That was at least one thing I could shove off my plate. I’d have this even if I lost tonight. “But it’s so much more than that. This could be the turning point, right? The thing that could have me going from just a good street fighter to a real contender. A possible professional.”
“And then you’ll leave me to get all rich and famous.” I scowled, but he just laughed. “Don’t worry, my ferocious Cherry Bomb. I knew you’d make it big from the start. The only question is when, not if. Just try not to forget me when you’re selling out whole arenas.”
“Like I could forget a guy like you.” I dropped my eyelids, hiding the hint of tears just the thought of leaving here brought. He didn’t know it, but Hawk was the closest thing to a father I’d had since my own died four years ago, right before we moved from the sticks to the Ville. Hawk filled a void.
“Take enough blows to the head, and I’m sure you will.” He let out a bark of laughter and clapped me once more on the back. “Come on now, fight’s starting. Time to do your big walk.”
I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin and drew deep for the confidence that got me through so much in life. I pushed aside the worries of letting Hawk down, of letting my family down.
It was time to fight.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice Ward is a USA Today bestselling author whose books consistently break into the Top 100 on Amazon. Three of her books were Top 10 Amazon bestsellers, one of which - The Surprise - reached an all-time high of #4.
She writes hot and steamy contemporary romance novels and is prolific, releasing at least one new book every month. Her books are widely read, especially by women and any other lovers of the romance genre. My Stepbrother, My Lover, was her first smash hit.
Alice has been in love with love since she was a little girl. She had quite the collection of Barbie dolls growing up and spent much of her playtime crafting the perfect Barbie wedding day (and when she wasn’t doing that, she was working on attempting the perfect cartwheel).
When Alice outgrew Barbie dolls, she began to write her thoughts down in her diary. This was how she discovered that she had a knack for telling romantic stories. Her first fans were her close girlfriends, and her stories were a hit among them. They, along with her family, enthusiastically encouraged her love for writing.
Alice now lives in Miami with her wonderful, hunky husband. The beach is her all-time favorite place to relax with her laptop and write. When she needs a break from writing (and when no one’s looking) she loves thumbing through celebrity gossip magazines. It’s her guilty pleasure.
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COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Alice Ward
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
