Fierce

by L. G. Kelso

"Then what the hell is going on?"

  "I missed something," Leah said, looking from me to Shane and back again.

  "I kind of forced Max to take Nicole out."

  "The ex-girlfriend? Are you stupid?"

  "Will asked her out. I couldn't let that happen. So, yes, I did that to Max."

  "Oh," Leah said. She leaned back and put her feet on the table. It creaked, wobbled.

  "Hang on," Shane said. "I can't take this." He stood, walked around the living room until he found one of my thin textbooks and brought it back with him to the table. Lifting the table, with Leah's feet still on it, he slid the book under the too-short leg. After he lowered the table, he shook it. No more wobbly.

  "You should just move in and be our resident handyman. You can share my room," Leah said. Shane winked.

  "Not happening, Leah," I said.

  "So you do have a thing with Will. Were you just jealous or something?" Shane sat back down.

  "No!" both Leah and I shouted.

  "It's not like that," I said.

  "Then what's it like?"

  I pointed to my bedroom as anger and guilt slipped the leash, spilling to the surface. "That. What you heard. That is why I had to do that. I couldn't let that happen to her!"

  Shane registered my words as I breathed in and out, heavy and hard.

  "Oh," he said, swallowing. "He...is the one who hurt you?"

  I nodded. Angry tears had collected on the brim of my lids, webbing across my eyelashes, making them stick together. I wiped them away. "And then he screwed up everything again because now Max thinks I don't want him and I do, but I couldn't let Will be alone with Nicole. He's a total crazy assclown and she's a total wackjob."

  "Why is this asshole still at the gym?" Shane asked. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The anger was back, but this time he didn't try to keep it reserved.

  "Because I didn't want to tell anyone, and I didn't want to call Jeff. His cousin could die anytime, and I don't want to add to his stress. I can handle this."

  "No offense, Tor, but you haven't exactly handled it. We have to get this guy out of here. Why isn't he in jail or something?"

  "The lawyers were already talking. It was my fault. It was a sparring session gone wrong. I had volunteered to be in that spot. I got blamed for it. At first, I thought they were right. And I was trying to advocate for girls. How could I still do that if they knew I had gotten my ass kicked? My entire career would have been over if I made that accusation public. I wasn't planning on stopping fighting because of that."

  "You think he would do it again? To you or anyone else? Shit." Shane's narrowed eyes latched back onto mine. "What about that night after my fight. What was really going on?"

  "I don't see why he would have changed. And nothing to worry about. He was just trying to make me leave again."

  "You have to talk to Max."

  His knee started bouncing, and he looked on the verge of self-combusting. "I think Will needs to go down, Tor."

  "Ditto," Leah said.

  "How about we start with me getting my life back together." I leaned back into the chair.

  "You have to explain it to Max. He thinks you don't want him."

  "I will. But I have to figure it out for myself first. The last thing Max needs is another nutjob. I have to get my head on straight for myself before anyone else."

  I prayed Max would still be there whenever I got my shit together.

  Shane's eyes lit up, and he smiled.

  "What?"

  "I think this fight, Max versus Will, is going to be the fight of the year."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Even though Shane urged me to call Max, I knew I couldn't. I needed to fix myself before I could be with him, and I hoped that he would hear me out when I was ready. He had mostly ignored me when we had been at the gym together, and there had been a few days when I hadn't seen him at all./p>

  I still had my therapist's number on the bottom of the drawer in my bedside table. I dialed it, hung up. Dialed it again. This time I got through the rings until she answered, and then I hung up. Groaning, I rubbed my face and sat on the edge of my bed.

  I could do this. I had to do this.

  Taking a deep breath, I dialed again.

  "Stina Fitz of Healthy Solutions. Can I help you?"

  I didn't hang up. I paused, but I didn't hang up.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Stina. This is Tori. I don't know if you remember me."

  "Tori Rhoads?"

  "Yeah."

  "It's been awhile. What can I do for you, Tori?"

  "I'd like to schedule a session."

  "Of course."

  We scheduled an appointment for next week. I plugged it into my phone's calendar.

  This was good, right? I didn't know.

  I logged online. The last time I had been online was months ago and when I had sent my old friend and student Justine a message asking if we could talk. She had replied.

  What happened to you? You just stopped showing up?

  It had been sent a few minutes ago.

  Stuff happened. I'm sorry. I hit send

  Stuff? Stuff? You ditched us.

  I replied. I can explain. Things got carried away. I failed. I thought you all hated me.

  We do, because you ditched us.

  I took a deep breath. Justine was a little younger than myself, and had issues. One of her requirements for her probation from her juvenile delinquency had been to join some sort of activity. When she first came to the gym, I had found that pretty funny. I had a feeling boxing wasn't what the court had intended.

  From the looks of her profile, though, she hadn't been in jail the past three years, so that was a relief.

  I couldn't fight. I'll tell you everything. Just give me a chance. I sent the message.

  Too late.

  Her reply made my chest ache, but I hoped that maybe she had gotten something out of the months we had worked together. Self-defense, maybe some kind of ethics she could take into other aspects of her life. Real confidence, not that macho bullshit she had tried to portray.

  I had wanted to help my girls. Most of all, I had wanted to show girls how to fight. I had wanted them to love it as I did, and I had wanted the world to see that girls could take it like the guys. I wanted them to be able to defend themselves, even if they never walked into the octagon.

  And how could I have taught them that, when I couldn't even defend myself?

  #

  Pain stung the side of my face, radiating into my jaw.

  "Wait, what did you say?" I said, taking a step back so that Shane wouldn't throw another hook.

  "Max leaves for training camp this morning. Have you talked to him yet?"

  "He leaves this morning? For two weeks?"

  Shane nodded.

  "Shit," I said. I pulled the strap off my wrist with my mouth and yanked my gloves off.

  "You haven't talked to him yet?"

  I shook my head.

  Shane reached his arm out and blocked me.

  "He's not a good angry fighter, Tor. It throws him off. He stops thinking and in the ring that makes him sloppy. Street's different, but in a match, he has to think. If he's really pissed at Will, he could get hurt."

  "Well, shit. Thanks, Shane. I thought you wanted me to tell him?" I turned to face him to make sure he got the full effect of my glare.

  "Like a week ago. Not now, when the fight is this close."

  "You think it'll really piss him off that much?"

  "Max fights with some personal code that not many people get. That code isn't just for the ring; it's also for training. He'd be upset even if he didn't know you. But, he does know you, and he's probably in love with you, so yes, he'll be beyond furious."

  "Shut up. You did not just say that."

  "What? That he'll be furious." Shane grabbed the bottom of his shirt, raised it to his face, but stopped before wiping away the sweat. Sweat already soaked his shirt. He frowned.

  "Th
e other part."

  "That he loves you? Like you didn't know." He rolled his eyes.

  I flushed.

  "Seriously, you really hadn't figured that out yet? God, you really are pretty naive sometimes."

  I shoved my gloves off to the side, and fished for my phone from my gym bag. I dialed Max's number.

  "Hello?"

  "Max!"

  "Tori?"

  "Max, I need to—"

  "Not right now. I have to turn the phone off. Plane is about to take off. Bye, Tori."

  He hung up on me.

  I dialed again, but it went to voicemail.

  "Dammit!" I threw my phone down. It bounced off the mats as I hit my head into the padded wall. The door dinged open, but I didn't care. Shane and I were here early, as usual, so it was probably Miguel or Mick. Nick and I had had a talk a week ago, and it had been decided that Will and Max wouldn't be here at the same time. It was impossible to do that perfectly when both of them trained up to eight hours on most days, so there had been overlap.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Max going away and training with someone other than Nick was probably the best move for the fight.

  "Tori?"

  "What?" I banged my head again. It didn't hurt at all, thanks to the padding, and that pissed me off more. I had royally screwed up.

  "Tori?"

  My name came again. Wait, I knew that voice.

  "Jeff?" I pulled away from the wall. Jeff stood at entryway. "You're back."

  "Joseph passed away two nights ago."

  "I'm so sorry, Jeff."

  "Thanks, kiddo."

  Kiddo didn't sound like it usually did.

  "Jeff, are you all right?" I walked over to him and rested my hand on his arm.

  "You have a fight in two weeks. I've been told you've been getting ready, but we're going to really step it up over the next two weeks."

  "Okay. Who told you I had been training?"

  "Max."

  "You talked to Max?" My hand went from resting to squeezing his arm.

  He nodded.

  "So, wait, you're back now, right? Max knows?"

  He nodded again.

  "He doesn't need to go to fight camp, then. Maybe he'll come home—"

  Jeff shook his head.

  "What?" I asked.

  "He needs to stay at the camp."

  "But you're back. You're here."

  "Yes, but so are you." He looked at me, his gaze poignant under his heavy lids.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped. I yanked my hand away from his arm. "What did he tell you?"

  "He didn't tell me much actually. But I can tell he's distracted by you and whatever is going on. The camp will be better for him right now. He did tell me something else, though, that bothered me." He cocked his head up a bit, since he was shorter than I was, and frowned. The skin between his gray and brown eyebrows pinched, and the wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth became more pronounced.

  "Yeah?" I was in trouble. Jeff had a limited number of angry faces, so I had gotten to know them well over the years. I wanted to look away, but I had been trained better.

  "Will's been back here, pretty much since I left."

  I nodded.

  "Why didn't you call me? I would have had him out immediately."

  "The gym needed a coach, and Nick seems like a pretty good one. He's an ass, but he can box and roll. The boys needed a coach. I could have handled the boxing, but I couldn't teach the jiu-jitsu."

  "It's not worth it if he's here."

  "Did Max tell you," I said before stopping and clearing my throat. "That something was going on between Will and me?"

  Jeff paled, and his nose twitched. "Something?"

  "Like a relationship or something."

  "No. Is there? He told me Will was here because he was worried. He said he felt like something wasn't right, but not that he thought you two were together."

  "We aren't. For the record. But I think Max thinks we are."

  "Whatever happened, Tori, screwed with the kid's head. He needs the camp. And we need Will out of here."

  Irritation and anger started to burn in the center of my stomach.

  Maybe I had dragged Max into my problems. Maybe I had screwed it up worse than if I had just been honest with him.

  Dammit.

  All right, that was it. I couldn't let this continue.

  I looked away from Jeff's piercing stare and around the entryway. The magazine on the desk snagged my attention. I walked over it to it, grabbed it, and read over the cover. It was an MMA magazine focusing on STRIKERS and a possible contract for MMAUC. It also had a section on Will. Will was one of STRIKERS top moneymakers, and as the most likely candidate for the MMAUC contract, he had a large amount of publicity.

  I flipped through the pages. STRIKERS always had to have some kind of drama story to engage the drama-loving fans, and found pictures of Will. In one, he and a girl sat at a table. The lighting was dark, but the girl wore sunglasses. The pit in my stomach deepened.

  I got an idea.

  "Is Shane here?" I asked, still looking at the magazine.

  "Yeah. He's on the mats."

  "Would you get him? I have a plan."

  Jeff stepped away from the counter, disappeared into the dojo, and came back a few seconds later with a sweaty Shane.

  "Shane," I said. "I need your psychology skills."

  "You're probably going to have to get me drunk first."

  "I can make that happen. As long as you focus on the psychology and not the philosophy. And Jeff," I said, "you can't kick Will out. Not yet. He needs to stay here."

  #

  The police station smelled worse than the gym. Probably thanks to the four guys slumped in cuffs on the bench. Whiskey oozed from their pores.

  I filled out the needed paperwork, and soon I had a packet of papers in my hands.

  The tattoo parlor was my second errand of the day. I lifted my shirt, and closed my eyes as the tattoo artist needled the skin on my lower right back.

  I took the road less travelled by

  With today's date underneath.

  Next, I made the call. It took two tries before I got through to anyone beyond the operator. At first, the man, Jon, was hesitant. But once I explained, I had his attention.

  After all, I offered him practically five stories rolled into one. And STRIKERS couldn't turn down a story that would potentially bring them attention, and this bet promised attention for what was now being labeled STRIKERS' biggest fight of the year.

  Jon and a crew came out the following day, once I had made sure Will was at the gym. Jeff hadn't exactly agreed with keeping him around, but he didn't argue with me.

  I met Jon in the entry area, and he camera man turned his equipment on.

  "This is Jon Halck, and I'm here with Tori Rhoads. Tori will be making her return to the octagon in two weeks after being out of the ring for almost three years. Some of you may remember her from before, when she was considered one of STRIKERS up-and-coming female fighters. Tori, you disappeared. Why?" Jon angled himself so he could easily look between the camera and me.

  "I had to figure out who I was." I forced my hands to rest on my hips so I didn't cross them over my chest.

  "What brought you back?"

  "I love MMA. I just can't stay away."

  "You're last fight went pretty badly. You were KO'd in round one, and ended up with a torn ACL. This is speculation, but it looked like you froze in there. There were some rumors that you didn't have what it takes after that. Do you think we're going to see that again?"

  I clutched my hip, restraining myself from popping him in the face. This was not what I wanted to talk about, but I had to give them something for them to take the bait I needed.

  "Hopefully not." I forced out a fake laugh.

  "We hope not as well. Now, you're not the only fighter from this gym who will be in the fights Saturday."

  "There's also Max Estrada. He's not here right now thoug
h. He's at a camp." With the topic change, I relaxed a little.

  "Why is he at a camp when Rhoads is back to coach?"

  "Bad blood, I guess." I smiled. I didn't exactly want to drag Max in even more, but there was no going back. The only way out was to go even deeper. The noise of clanking metal, grunts, and impact filtered into the entryway. Jon looked around me, eager to go into the rest of the gym. But I stayed put and kept talking.

  "We've been allowing Will Bennet and Coach Nick Croza to train here. They are not a part of the gym, not at this time. Will is Max's opponent for the fight."

  "Right. Are they friends? Do they train together?"

  "Well, Jon, no and no, not since we found out they were opponents. In fact, the gym is unsettled since this arrangement. Jeff and Nick are buddies; they've known each other a long time. They've been on opposite sides of the match before, but they're friendship hasn't been shaken. This, though, is different. It got personal. Why don't you go talk to Will a bit, and then we can continue this conversation?"

  Jon obviously wanted more on what I meant by personal, but he agreed and the cameraman followed us into the gym, where Will worked on a bag. Shane's feet pounded on the treadmill.

  "I wasn't expecting an interview today," Will said, but he put on that stupid smile and wiped his hair back.

  "We thought we would check in before the fight and see how you're preparing," Jon said.

  "It's been great. I'm ready." Will propped himself against the bag with his hand. The heavy bag swayed. He frowned before straightening up and putting that fake smile back on his face.

  "We've heard your opponent, Max, left for a camp instead of continuing his training here at this time. Why do you think that is?"

  "Maybe he's scared. Or he's just pissed that his girlfriend likes me more than him. Anyway, enough about him. What can I tell you all about me?"

  Will was so predictable, and for once, I appreciated that.

  "As I said, some bad blood. There is no girlfriend though," I said, interrupting and walking back into the view of the camera. "I have a deal for you, Will."

  Will stopped talking, and looked at me. "What?"

  "I have a wager."

  "A wager?"

  "Make sure you get all this. Will will definitely want this seen by all his fans," I directed at the cameraman. "Yes, a wager. I win my fight and you and your coach leave our gym for good. You will never return to this gym."