by Dani Wyatt
“You devastated the champ, man.” He shakes his head on a chuckle, giving me a soft punch into my shoulder.
I tense, my switch still flipped, and he must note the beast is still pacing because he steps back and holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m not getting in the way of that thing you’ve got going on. Take your shower. See you soon.”
Another guy is watching as I pass by and he gives me a nod holding out his hand. “Hey. Impressive.”
He’s covered in sweat, he’s been hitting the bag and there’s confrontation in his approach just admiration.
“I’m Evan. You need anything, let me know. I got my ass hurt, so I’m not sparing right now, but what I see from you, looks great man. Just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks.” I nod and he goes back to beating the shit out of the heavy bag as I move away.
Even with the adrenaline rush from the fight, my mind is still on Maggie. When I stepped into the ring, all I thought of was what I would do to someone that tried to hurt her.
From there, it was a forgone conclusion I would drop the ‘champ’ because in my mind, he was the enemy.
After my shower, I’m sitting across from Teddy in a cramped office. His wife Maria just closed the door behind her after handing me a homemade chocolate chip cookie and telling me welcome to the family. The walls and shelves are lined with trophies, photos of Teddy with fighter’s hands held high in victory. From what I see, they date back decades. Some are straight, black and white old boxing photos, so he’s been around and I get the feeling he’s the real deal.
“So. I don’t beat around the bush. You’ve got what it takes to go to the top of this game. A lot of managers might be reluctant, given what I just saw come out of you out there, but I have to say I’m impressed. Most of the fighters these days are on Team Pussy in your generation, but that is not you. Don’t get me wrong, there’s work to do, and you need to learn to tame the beast so he works for you one-hundred percent of the time. But the passion I saw out there? That can’t be taught. So here’s what I’m offering. I take ten percent of your wins, non-negotiable. I’ll train you to win. And I don’t mean in some bar brawl or sparring match. I mean in the big show. But, I’ve got a few rules.”
“Such as?”
“No bullshit. No drugs. Nothing illegal. I run a clean gym, if you get what I mean. And no cheap money fights. I find out you’re fighting in some bar parking lot or in fucking Papa Pain’s underground shit, I’ll cut you. Got it?”
I nod even though I have no idea who Papa Pain is.
“You do what I say, you’re going to make some real scratch. I’m talking high six figures, maybe seven from what I see. That’s it. You in or you out?”
He leans back in his chair, a grimace on his face that seems permanent, not personal, and to my own surprise I answer.
“I’m in.”
He nods. “We train six days a week. You’ll need to be close, you’ll be practically living here. So, you need to get your shit organized. Fast. I’ve got a fight I want you in. Two weeks. It’s not big, but it will introduce you to the real deal out there. You do what I say, all eyes will be on you.”
We finish up some details, I put my John Hancock on a simple contract covering the basics, and then I try to wrap my head around everything that has happened in the last forty-eight hours.
One: I’m some internet viral deal.
Two: I met and claimed the woman that I know will be my wife.
Three: I’ve agreed to do something I thought I’d never do—fight for a living.
I shake my head as I stride out the front door of the gym, my bag hanging low on my shoulder, knowing I’m going back to Maggie.
There’s a knot in my gut. I want to give her everything. She’s the girl that deserves the dream. The fairy tale. Who am I? I’ve got some money put away, not enough to treat her the way she deserves.
Then I think about my parents. How am I going to help them with the bar and set my sights on a future that could set us all up for life?
As I settle into the driver’s seat of my Chevelle, I grip the wheel and press my forehead between my hands, trying to work it out.
Maybe I’m not the man she needs...
What do I offer? She already told me about her brother. How she hated to see him fighting and now despises and fears the fighting life because of what happened to him. I’d be asking her to bet on a long shot. Who knows how long it would be before I could take care of us. Of her, the way I want to. The way she deserves.
I lift my head, jab the key into the ignition and ignite the engine. The car rumbles under me as a new determination is born. I can’t let her go. My only choice is to be the man she needs. To be the man that will give her and my family a new life.
And her life will be with me. No matter what.
11
Maggie
“CAREFUL, IT’S HOT.” I warn as Stone grabs the jar filled with apples out of the heat bath and jerks his hand away, wincing. “I told you it was hot.” I giggle as he shakes his hand.
We’re standing in my kitchen, me in his t-shirt and nothing else, his scent still on me, my body sore but sated from the hours long love-making...or fucking...maybe both, that started at four AM this morning when he drove to my place from working the bar with his parents.
“You’re sleep deprived and it makes your ears not work.” I only half kid. He’s been running from the bar to training, sleeping here most of the time, for the last nearly two weeks. And now it’s the big one, tomorrow he has his first real fight for the gym that I was furious and terrified to hear all about. But I’m coming to terms with that, and starting to trust him to know what’s right for him. I can’t control his life. All I can do is support him.
I still pinch myself, wondering how all of this happened so fast and yet feels so right. The whole thing feels surreal. It still makes me quiver a little to look at Stone as we can apple slices. I may be covered by one of his enormous t-shirts, but he’s standing here buck-naked, his cock still half-hard and hanging, obscenely large, down his leg.
“There aren’t enough hours in the day. Or night.” He reaches over and smacks my behind as I yelp and slap his hand away. It’s not that I mind it so much. In fact, I’ve come to understand the joy of a side-order of pain, along with all the pleasure he brings me. “Besides, what other guy would be standing here with you, naked, peeling about a thousand apples, slicing them up, stirring your whatever-sugar mixture whenever you tell him to...”
He picks up a towel this time to help me move the hot jars. I’m using the tongs to pick them out of the water, while he takes them from me and sets them down on a towel spread over my tiny kitchen table.
As I work some new slices into the next set of jars, I look up to see him staring at me, his hand on his now hardening cock, stroking it slowly with his eyes pinned on me.
“You know...” He starts, and my belly does this little flip. “I never dreamed this was possible.”
“What? You learning to can apples?” I chide as the throb between my legs grows. Watching his hand move on that magnificent cock is doing things to me, but I continue to tease. “You’re getting the hang of it. Slowly.”
He shakes his head, trying to contain the grin at my cheekiness. “That I could feel like this. Every day. Every night. You are on my mind. Everything I want to do for you. With you. To you.”
He’s right. I never imagined it either, but here we are. We’re comfortable like we’ve been together for years. He feels like home to me and more and more, I know I couldn’t live without him.
Well, comfort is one thing, but I’m also so turned on by him. I’m like a pubescent boy, barely able to think of anything other than sex. Overall, I feel like I’m alive. All the pieces and parts are falling into place. My job is going well. My interview with Stone published yesterday on the website and it’s getting nearly as many hits as his video.
I have to admit, when he told me about the contract with the gym, my first reaction was that I cou
ldn’t live that life. I’d already told him about my brother at the bar, but I decided to go into more details, to really push the message home. It’s not that I don’t like the fighting—I don’t like violence, but I understand it as a form of entertainment, and I get that the fighters are athletes doing a tough job.
It’s the rest that’s the big issue with me.
I told Stone about how it started with my brother, the same way his career is starting right now: legit. Trying to make a run at a life as a real fighter.
But that’s not how things ended up. As soon as he found himself out of pocket it was easy to start fighting backyard and underground stuff. He got addicted to the high of the win. The beat down. And those guys made him feel appreciated, they became like a family to him. When my aunt who is like our second mother needed money to pay the back taxes on her flower shop, he introduced her to one of the guys and it was like a miracle. All the money she needed, friendly, like borrowing money from a family member. Don’t worry, you pay it back when you’re good and ready, Sam here is our friend and we always do favors for our friends...
Well, that didn’t last for long.
Truth is, I knew he wasn’t like them. It was only a matter of time before they asked him to do something that didn’t sit right with his conscience. I don’t know what that thing was, I don’t think I probably want to know, but whatever it was, he refused and they decided he had to go. They sent him to make some sort of deal with illegal guns, but it was all just a setup to make it look like he was behind it all and take the heat off them for a while. I suppose I should be grateful he’s serving three to five years in the county prison, and not taking up space in the local cemetery.
But of course, that wasn’t the end of it. My aunt Liza still owes them money, and all that sweetness, the relaxed attitude about repayments, disappeared as soon as Sam wasn’t one of them any longer. I haven’t told Stone all the details.
When he asked me how I knew those guys, I just said from when my brother was fighting and left it at that. The debt, that’s my aunt’s business, not mine and I know how embarrassed she is about the whole situation. Besides, I think if I told him, he would handle it with his fists and that would end two ways.
Him in prison for murder. Or dead.
When he told me about the contract he signed, I cried. I begged him not to fight. And he explained the deal to me. He told me about Teddy and Maria and Grizz, and the setup that they have down there. He also told me about Teddy’s rules for taking him on. And bit by bit, my mind started to relent. I get it. I understand what this might mean for him—for us—and I’m willing to put my misgivings aside and give it a try. As Stone said, he is not my brother. He’s the real deal. He’s got a gift, if that’s the right word for absolutely crushing your opposition in every fight he’s ever had.
So, as long as he stays on the right side of the sport, I’m behind him. And that’s what I told him.
“Come here.” Stone’s sleepy eyes train on my naked body as I sit up on the bed. I’ve come to be confident in my body with him. He looks at me like a Playboy centerfold, and truth is, around him, I feel like one—muffin top and all. “Lay next to me. I get an hour nap, then I gotta get down to the shop. Liza messaged me earlier, saying she’s having some trouble with the security stuff I installed. It’s not recording anything, apparently. I’m going to meet her down there and give it a few tweaks.”
Someone broke a window in the front of the flower shop last week and made a mess inside. They tried to get into the cash register. Luckily, Aunt Liza is smart enough to not leave the till full, but it scared her, and that afternoon Stone went a bought a nice security system with cameras, audio, alarms...the whole deal and installed it at his own expense. “Then it’s back to the gym.” His words are slow as I tuck myself, spooning into him, and he drags the messy blankets up over us, kissing the back of my neck as I nestle into his enormous body. “Wake me up in an hour.”
By the time the words are out, his breathing is deep and steady, and I wish he could sleep for a week. I don’t know how he does it. Surviving on a few hours a night and training the way he does.
“OKAY, I’LL BE BACK around five.” Stone kisses the part of my hair. “You’ve got your phone? It’s charged?”
I nod. He’s turned a bit obsessive, making sure he can contact me whenever we are apart. I suppose some would find that oppressive, but for me it feels caring, safe. “I’ll walk you down, I want to talk to Aunt Liza too.”
“Good girl. I love how you take care of your aunt, the same way you take care of me.”
“Likewise.” I add, feeling the warmth grow inside me as Stone pulls on his jeans and runs a hand through his damp hair from our sexy shower after his nap. He fucked me bent over, up against the wall, and then just held me onto his body until I was boneless from all the orgasms.
We make our way out the apartment door, down the stairs and out into the alley behind the buildings that leads down to the flower shop. He’s just in front of me and I still marvel at his body. Not just the sheer size, but the underlying strength and grace with which he moves.
He told me when he was young, he got picked on a lot at school. He was clumsy too. So when he started taking martial arts lessons, his mother insisted he also take dance lessons. Side benefit is, he can dance.
I mean, really dance.
Like ballroom, swing me around, dip me, supper club in the fifties sort of dancing. It’s become one of our things. We make dinner, music on and he will grab me out of the blue and we just dance around the apartment, laughing and spinning.
It’s as though I’ve been walking on pink fluffy clouds for two weeks, and a part of me still worries that somehow all of this will end, because it feels too good to be true in so many ways.
Stone takes my hand as we work through the back of the shop, and I’m about to call out to Liza, letting her know that we’re here, when I hear raised voices that turn my blood cold.
“That’s all I have.” My aunt is pleading, and I want to help her.
I feel Stone stiffen as we come out into the open area of the shop.
Silence shatters the moment as the two guys who’ve come to collect on my aunt’s debt every few weeks stand there with her behind the counter, the cash register open and empty.
Stone drops his gym bag and strides out, squaring off with the guys. “What the fuck do you want?”
I run to my aunt, grabbing her hand and holding on, and she gathers me in close, giving me a defeated look.
“Good to see you again.” The bulkier guy with the scars, who I know as Clubber, turns to Stone on a snarl.
“Can’t say I feel the same.”
The other guy looks from me to Stone. “We’ve got business here.”
Stone looks at me and my heart speeds, knowing I should have told him everything.
“What business?”
Clubber sniffs on a gruff chuckle. “You don’t know?” They both look over at my aunt and I, and Stone follows their gaze. I can see the tension building in his face when the guy continues, grinning as he nods toward us. “Liza here is a little behind on some payments. We just wanted to pay a friendly visit, make sure she understands it would be a shame if something were to happen.” He looks up at the ceiling and his buddy, who I don’t recognize, finishes.
“Old building. Bad wiring. Things happen. Accidents.”
Stone turns our way. “Go to Liza’s apartment. I mean it. Now. Upstairs.”
My aunt takes my hand, pulling me gently away, but I give Stone a hard look.
“Don’t fight. Please. Just promise me...”
He gives me a dead stare, then looks back at the two goons. “Nothing to fight about. Is there guys?”
They raise their eyebrows and smile, Clubber speaking for both of them. “Nope. Nothing to fight about.”
Stone keeps his eyes on them but lowers his voice to a growl. “Now go.”
As we move to the back room, I take one more look over my shoulder, praying
for a miracle.
12
Stone
“WE’VE GOT AN OFFER for you.” Half-ear, who seems to be the spokesperson for the shithead collection company, licks his top teeth. “Tonight. You fight. You win, the debt is cleared. You lose, well...we’ll get creative.”
The other guy chuckles and I shoot him a look that shuts that shit down.
“How much do they owe?” I’m lean right now but I still need to know. I’ll have money coming my way soon enough.
“Not about the money now. See, your little video that’s all over?” He shakes his head. “Not good for us. We all have contracts. Showing the world us taking that beating? Let’s just say, things need to be rectified.”
He reaches into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulls out a scrap of paper, handing it to me. Scrawled on the front in black marker are the words “Papa Pain” and an address: 643 Elm Street.
“Ten o’clock tonight. See, what you don’t know is, we have ways of making things happen in our favor. Just ask your little piece of ass.” He jerks his head toward the ceiling. “Her brother didn’t quite want to play by our rules. He found himself on the wrong side of a deal.” He shrugs. “We have our ways of putting people in their place. All we need to do is have the evidence support the charge. We’re good at making that happen. So, take the fight.” He sniffs on a smile. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
My pulse races as I dig my fingernails into my palms, trying to keep from snapping both of their necks.
Instead I count to ten. I need to think. Beating them down again won’t make Maggie and Liza safe. I’m smart enough to know when a fight is going to achieve the desired outcome, and when it’s only going to work against you.
“Get the fuck out.” I spit, because if they stay much longer, the ounce of control I have left will snap.
They shrug, flashing self-satisfied smiles as they turn and head to the door. Half-ear raises his hand over his head, giving me the finger.
