Sniffing the bourbon, my eyebrows rise. “Woodford Reserve?”
“Any other kind?”
“No fucking way.”
He smacks my shoulder and strolls around, sounds of the event launching muffled through the heavy door. “Still haven’t found a new manager?”
“Don’t need one.”
Andy’s brown eyes flicker. “What if it was me?”
“C’mon man, you know I don’t play well with others.”
He sucks on his lips and pulls out a second flask. “This one’s mine. It’s still Woodford. I only give gifts I’d give myself.” He chuckles and takes a swig, then makes an appreciative sound before beginning his pitch. “Look, lemme help you. I’m not good enough to be in the ring, but I can handle money. You hate doing the business stuff. Booking fights, travel plans, hotels, Press— I can do all that little shit you hate doing.”
Walking the flask to my locker, I mutter, “Andy, come on.”
“Tobias, man! We can do a trial run. And the best part is, we’ve known each other for like what, eight years now?”
“Almost nine.”
“You know I’m trustworthy! I won’t fuck you over like Sammy did!”
Rubbing my head with both hands I shake it out and ask, “You wanna help me?”
“Yeah!”
“Leave me alone so I can focus.”
From the corners of my eyes I watch him back out of the humid room, closing the door behind him and not saying another word. I like his style.
Inhaling the sweet whiskey aroma, I smile and replace the lid. “Soon, baby. Soon.” It gets tossed onto the clothes I’m wearing later.
The urge to see Hannah again has me swiping my phone back on. Again my head calms as I stare at her sadness.
I know that feeling.
It’s my whole damn life.
Dripping with Excitement - Hannah
Sofia barks into the Will Call window, “Stop gaping at her or I’ll make you stop!”
Since he’s behind bulletproof glass he does not feel the need to heed her warning.
The guy’s mouth is open and he scratches a pimple on his cheek as he stares at me. So fucking gross. “You’re prettier in person.”
I’m sick of people recognizing me from the news.
Will it ever go away?
Sighing and exasperated I demand, “Are there tickets waiting under my name or not? No, don’t look at my chest. My eyes are up here! The computer is right there. See if we have tickets or my cousin will find a way to break down this glass.”
I throw a look to Sofia whose expression says she just might.
He blinks over to the monitor and mutters, “So pretty when you’re angry.” The printer spits out a couple tickets and he hands them to me through the slot.
Sofia blocks my reach. “Nope.” To the kid she says, “Set them down and back that hand away.”
Disappointed that she’s foiled his chance to cop a feel, even just of my fingers, he does as told. But when she goes to grab them, his fingers fly out and graze hers instead.
She scoops the tickets to her chest. “Sonofabitch!”
With yellow teeth he grins like his year just got made.
I call out to one of the enormous men who are checking bags to make sure audience members don’t bring knives or guns, or grenades, or anything that could be considered a weapon, into the stadium. “Security!” One grunts his way over to us, really gritty type of character. Could be handsome if you like your men scary as hell. “Can you make sure we walk by this guy without him jumping out of his box to grab ours?”
The guy bellows in a voice so low it doesn’t sound real, “Chester! Stay there!” He guides us into the throng of people clamoring to get to the show, and completely forgets to check inside Sofia’s purse. Which is good because she brought her knife. Always carries it, a fact he doesn’t have to know.
“You friends of Vance?” he asks.
Sofia’s charm flashes in her smile as she walks by his side, her body a quarter of his. “Who?”
The bouncer does a double take at her sex appeal and says, “The heavyweight champion.”
“Oh, you mean Tobias,” she smiles.
A rumbling laugh shakes his shoulders. “Vance doesn’t exist to you.”
“That’s right.”
“He only exists for Tobias to kick his ass.”
The bouncer stops walking, parting a sea of people who now have to go around the three of us. He and Sofia are flirting, which blows my mind. “If you’re that big a fan, you need a front row seat.”
I hand her the tickets. She holds them up and fans them in front of her smirk. “Like these?”
He reads the writing and crosses his arms, head nearly hitting the ceiling. “You ready to get some sweat on you?”
Sofia purrs, “You offering?”
His smile changes as he realizes she’s totally and completely serious. “Find me after the fight.”
“You find me,” she laughs, walking away, me at her side. “Duh!”
“I’ll find you!” he shouts after us.
Over the slender strap of her painted-on dress she calls back to him, “Forget it! You had your chance!” We enter the stadium like we’re headed for the cage, like it’s us who everyone is here to see.
She throws me a look. “Can you believe that guy?”
“He’s probably used to women searching for him.”
“He’s never met me then. See that chain fence? Now that is some hot shit right there.”
“I’m getting excited.”
She throws me a knowing look. “I bet you are.”
As we walk, people clear away to their seats, fewer of them around us as we get closer to the front row where our neighbors will be press, guys in suits representing the sponsors, owners, doctors, and anyone as lucky as we turned out to be.
Sofia and I slide into our seats and cross our legs, eyes on two scantily clad, UFC moniker-wearing, heavily made-up women. My cousin and I raise an eyebrow each as one of the girls plumps her breasts up, sliding her hand into her bikini-top in front of everyone. Tons of catcalls explode from the stands.
Sofia chuckles under her breath, “Puh-lease.”
When the announcer begins speaking, the crowd becomes a nuclear reactor of energy. “And now! This is the moment UFC fans around the world have been waiting for!”
Soon I grab Sofia’s hand as Tobias comes into view, his face huge on the screen above the fight cage, hard with intense focus, body glimmering with anticipation’s sweat.
Okay, wow.
At the gym his tank top was indicative of what was beneath, but now that he’s only wearing fight shorts, naked on up, I have lost my ability to breathe.
His upper body strength is awe-inspiring.
Rock after bulging rock of pure muscle.
His shoulders could seat a kid each with room to spare.
The crowd goes nuts as he makes his way in. He glances over to us like he picked these seats himself. But by the glint in his eyes as he and I look at each other, he wasn’t sure we’d come.
There’s no smile, only laser-like intention to win.
Sofia tightens her grip on my clammy fingers as I go tense all over. “You really want this guy, Hann,” she whispers, just figuring it out.
Without moving my lips so he can’t see me answer her I hum, “Uh huh.”
“Oh God,” she whispers. “I hope he gives you what they haven’t.”
Tobias rips his gaze back to the octagonal-shaped cage and walks in. Over the cacophony of cheering the announcer has been listing the judges, the sponsors, facts about the fighters. I heard none of it.
Tobias marched in like a man with vengeance on his mind.
His opponent walks in like he hasn’t a care in the world, smiling the whole time, just as ripped and intimidating.
I hope Tobias punches that grin into bits.
Sofia whispers, “Oh shit. That guy looks fierce, too.”
I can only nod and s
queeze her fingers.
This place has been robbed of oxygen ever since Tobias locked eyes with me.
With her eyes on the fighters she starts reciting like a machine, “This is what you can’t do. Butting with the head. Eye gouging. Biting. Groin attacks. Attacking an opponent on or during the break. Putting a finger into any orifice or into any cut or laceration of your opponent. Striking to the spine or the back of the head. Throat strikes of any kind. Kicking the head of a grounded opponent. Stomping a grounded opponent. Kicking to the kidney. Spiking an opponent to the canvas on his head or neck. Using abusive language in the cage.”
I stare at her. “You know a lot about this.”
“I know a lot about fighting. All us Ciphers do.”
“Anything else?”
Her gaze returns to the cage. “No spitting at an opponent or the ref. Oh, and no throwing in the towel.”
I snort at that last one. “What pussy would surrender when it’s called Ultimate Fighting Challenge?”
“Right?” she mutters.
Tobias’s harsh gaze lands on me right before the ref announces the beginning of the fight. He tilts his head down a little to me, acknowledging I came.
I give him a wink.
Probably shouldn’t have distracted him right as the bell went off. He just took a blow to the head for it.
Oh Shit - Hannah
The fight isn’t going well. With each kick, headlock, and punch, victory flies more out of reach.
Every time he regains traction only to have it repeatedly taken from him as that guy Vance mutters things that we in the audience can’t hear. Tobias’s face keeps turning red with rage. Something is going on between those two men that’s deeper than this fight.
“It’s his mental state,” I urgently tell Sofia. “He’s fucking with his head! What is he saying?”
“I don’t know,” she gravely mutters. “But it’s gotten under his skin. He’s going to lose.”
“No! He can’t! I shouldn’t have distracted him. He got off to a bad start!”
She and I fly out of our seats with the crowd as Vance takes control in a head lock and throws Tobias’s enormous body to the mat. We shout at the top of our lungs, “Get up, Tobias!” and “Take him out!”
He rolls Vance over like Sofia did with that guy from the swamp, and she and I grab onto each other in suspense. A few well laid punches storm from Tobias’s fingerless gloves and Sofia and I start screaming our heads off along with everyone else. The crowd is half his, half his opponent’s. It’s brutal, both sides going nuts for their fighter, and I can’t take my eyes off the disaster and chaos of it all.
A guy representing Budweiser tells us, “This isn’t about money!” We look over at him. “It’s about revenge! Vance wants to keep his title, and prove he’s the best. Tobias wants to show the world what he’s made of.”
“Your guy is getting ahead,” Sofia whispers, grabbing my arm.
Everyone in the arena is standing now as things heat up, the power struggle transferring ownership every two or three moves. I’ve never felt this much anxiety in my life.
From out of nowhere Tobias starts hammering Vance with such speed and precision a hush of anticipation comes over the crowd. The ref sounds the bell, and Tobias pulls back.
If that bell hadn’t rung then this fight may have been over.
Like we’ve been running a marathon, Sofia and I collapse onto our seats, out of breath. One of the ring girls starts her slow strut with the round’s number held high, her slender arms flexed to balance.
But when Tobias turned for his corner, Vance didn’t go to his. He comes up and punches Tobias in his shoulder blades.
An illegal move.
The clock was stopped.
The crowd explodes with boos and hissing as Tobias goes down.
Vance mounts him in a wrestling move.
The ref can’t make it stop.
I jump out of my chair and grab the sign from the girl’s surprised grip.
Rushing to the cage and slamming the sign against it, I shout, “TOBIAS!!” A grunting mass of sweat and blood lying on his back, his eyes lock onto mine. I throw the card and yell, “END IT!”
Light glitters across his stormy blue irises.
A surge of energy takes him over.
He latches his hooks on Vance’s forearms.
Holding them to stop the stream of punches he shoves his opponent off.
Vance flies into the chain fence.
Tobias’s sweaty muscles ripple as he stalks his prey.
It is awe-inspiringly hot.
I need him to win.
I need those hands on my breasts, my ass, my thighs.
Everywhere.
And if he doesn’t win, that’s not going to happen.
Vance gets pinned to the chains.
Tobias takes him out with a series of punches fueled by anger at the illegal attack and by me reminding him who he really is. I don’t know what that guy Vance was saying in his ear this whole time to weaken him, but Tobias is a winner. I can see it as clearly as I can hear the crowd going berserk.
Dead weight slumps to the ground, Vance out cold.
Tobias, hunched over and panting, stares at his opponent as the ref is shouting things to the announcer.
A slow grin spreads on my face and Tobias looks at me.
He tips his head like he did before they began.
My chest is heaving with excitement.
But the fact remains that none of that was legal.
Is the fight really over?
The judges are huddled together, the ref with them. A doctor has appeared at Vance’s side, checking his pulse. The Announcer waits for the verdict, total poker face as the wireless mic is suspended before his pursed lips.
The ref crosses to him and both heads go down as they converse.
“Due to foul play, attack during time-out, the judges have ruled the defense legal and admissible. The winner and new Heavyweight Champion is… Tobias Kyrkooossss!”
I’m gripping the cage, fingers looped through the holes as the ref holds Tobias’s arm high in the air just in time for Vance to come to consciousness and witness his loss.
The new Champion holds my eyes in a stare that ends with a smirk.
Pushing off the chain I strut to my cousin and her devilish, knowing look. In a put-on, heavy drawl she says, “Oh, honey. You done outdid yourself out there!”
I drawl back with eyelashes flapping, “I sure did, didn’t I?”
Around us people clamor to be near Tobias, and camera flashes explode nonstop. The media is shouting questions, angling for a sound bite as he heads back to wherever it is fighters go before and after fights. All of this is new to me, so I picture it as someplace filled with women who, poor things, won’t be getting any of his attention tonight. That man is all mine.
He shouts, “HANNAH!” as bouncers shove rabid fans away from him.
I cock an eyebrow and shout over the noise, “Yes?”
“My locker room!”
“What about it?”
As the wave carries him off he just smiles.
She Did That For Me - Tobias
My palm hits the entrance to my sanctuary right as a male reporter shouts louder than the others, “What were you thinking when you rose as though from the grave?”
“That I wasn’t ready to die.”
Andy has maneuvered his way through the horde, and he holds his arms up and shouts, “Okay, let the man wash that loser’s blood off his hands! You can quote me on that!”
“Nice,” I tell him under my breath, chuckling.
“No more questions. If you want to interview Tobias, you can call me to set up appointments. Andy Cronin! Extreme Five Gym!”
Shaking my head at his persistence, I head for the locker with my bourbon in it, and discover a tiny, fake-breasted female hiding to my right. She straightens and attempts a sexy expression that ain’t hitting the mark. Way too obvious. “I’ve been waiting for you, Champion!�
�
“Oh no no no, you’ve gotta go.”
She whines, “Don’t be mean!”
“Jeezus,” I mutter. “Andy, earn your keep!”
He ushers her out in no time, but she sticks her tongue out at me right before he locks the door. He’s used to girls throwing themselves at him, too, since he’s a trainer and he’s pretty ripped. There’s no envy or disbelief that I turned that fuck-toy away.
We both know a girl like that is trouble. Hiding in a locker room ticks off warning bells before she even opens her glossed-up mouth. She’s the type who’d poke holes in your condoms while she sucked you off to distract you.
“That beauty from the gym yesterday?”
“The one who threw the card out there?”
On a grin I say, “That’s the one. If she knocks, let her and her cousin in.”
“I’d like to let her cousin do a lot more than that.”
Grabbing the flask from my locker I take a warm, burning slug and rasp, “Damn, that tastes better than I thought it would.”
“When you’re a Champion everything tastes better!” Andy shakes his head with appreciation. “Shit, man, you did it.”
“I did. Throw me that towel.”
Swiping it from the bench he tosses it to me as I head to the shower. I’ve been doing this for a decade, so long that the pain barely registers now. These cuts and bruises would make a less experienced man cringe under the hot stream I’ll need to remove all this grime.
I’ll relish the pain.
It’s the cost I paid.
Every laceration.
Every bruise.
All the aches.
I want it all.
Vance lost.
I won.
Damn this pain feels good.
He did a dirty move. I don’t mind coloring outside the lines, part of the fun of the game, but when a man has his back to you, a worthy fighter doesn’t choose that moment to attack.
Over the running water I hear a knock at the door. Andy creaks it open and the loud volume from outside crashes in. From within the voices I hear Jonas, a bouncer and friend, tell Andy, “I’ve got Hannah and Sofia Cocker here.”
“Let ‘em in.” Andy then shouts at the press, “Call me at my gym! Extreme Five! No more questions ’til you call me. That’s final!”
Cocky Senator's Daughter: Hannah Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 8) Page 6
