No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords)

by Candace Blevins

  Jerrod had stepped out by this time and said, “I’ll talk to Dave, make sure no one says anything.” He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “They were just trying to stir things up, get more media attention. Dave will shame them for it and they’ll back off.”

  * * * *

  As the days progressed Sam was more and more thankful Ethan had arranged for Tyler to be the one following her everywhere. She would’ve resented a stranger being around so often.

  Dave had arranged for a good number of husband and wife media appearances, but their schedules often had them going different directions and she found herself separated from Ethan more often than they were together.

  Tyler integrated into her team well, and she came to rely on him, Miguel, and Tara to have her back.

  Tyler had keys to many employee-only sections of the hotel complex, and he could move them around without the media seeing them when Sam just couldn’t handle another microphone in her face.

  A fan jumped out at her once to take a swing, but Tyler had them on the ground before Sam even realized what’d happened. She’d been talking to Tara and would’ve been blindsided had Tyler not been there.

  When hotel security arrived, Tyler turned the man over to them and quickly herded Sam through a locked door, away from prying eyes. Sam collapsed into his arms without thinking about it, and he held her as he texted Ethan’s bodyguard with a request for him to bring Ethan.

  The media captured none of it on camera, and by the time Sam faced the reporters again, Ethan was at her side.

  When they finally made it to their room later in the evening, Sam told Ethan, “I understand why it’s important for us to play up to the cameras, but I really wish I could just go into the ring and fight, without having to deal with the publicity and hype.”

  “Your contract says you have to draw eyeballs to your fight.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to stop, I just said I’m only interested in the fighting part of it. You seem to get off on playing to the cameras almost as much as you enjoy the actual fight.”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, I use my time in front of the cameras to try to psych my opponent out. When I was small time I did it via Twitter, and I still do, to an extent, but I have a bigger reach by showboating to the cameras.”

  Sam sat in a chair and sighed. “I’m psyching myself out, no need for Karen to do anything. I know Miguel found the small tell, the micro-movement my foot made before I punched or kicked, and we could see her watching for it on the video. I’ve stopped it, but how do we know I haven’t developed another micro-tell none of us is picking up? I feel as if I don’t take her down in the first dozen punches, I may not have a chance at all.”

  Ethan sat in another chair and looked at her a few seconds before reminding her, “Miguel brought in a specialist to look for micro-tells, since Karen is obviously so good at picking up on them. You and your team have done everything you can to stay on top of it. You just have to trust in the process.”

  He shook his head and leaned back. “For a variety of reasons, you’ll be better off if you can take her out in the first couple of minutes, but I don’t think the micro-tell issue is the biggest.”

  “What’s the biggest?”

  “She’s won almost two-thirds of her fights in the first three minutes. She hasn’t lost a fight in years. She’s walking into the ring with the confidence she can win, and you’re doubting yourself.”

  Sam shook her head. “No, I think I have about as much chance as beating her as she has of beating me.”

  “You need to walk into the cage knowing you can win. You need to spend your free time imagining all the ways you can take her out, and seeing yourself victorious with the ref raising your arm and wrapping the big shiny belt around your waist.”

  Sam shook her head, again, and put her head in her hands. “God, your right. I’ve let the press convince me I’m the underdog.” She took a breath and looked up to him, digging deep for confidence. “I’ve made Ethan ‘The Caveman’ Levi tap out! I can take Karen fucking Johansen!”

  He smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  Sam smiled back, but figured she should just go ahead and tell him everything bothering her, while they were talking. “It also bugs me we’re fighting back to back.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I’m glad they’re giving us twenty minutes between the fights and using pre-recorded interviews to fill the time, but it’s going to be tough.”

  “I shouldn’t have accepted, so we could focus on your title fight.”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not. We both had an opportunity, no reason we couldn’t both accept. We’ll make it work.”

  “But you won’t have your normal time to get ready.”

  “I don’t know. I get pretty fired up watching you fight. I think I’ll be in a perfect frame of mind to fight, as long as you aren’t hurt.”

  “And if I am, I may not be available to help you with strategy during your fight.”

  “It’s my fight, Sam. I love having your help but you don’t owe it to me. If you’re in no shape to help either by being out there, or by watching from backstage and relaying messages through Miguel, then I’ll just have to win using my own skills.”

  * * * *

  Cassie, Viv, and Kirsten arrived a few days before the fight, and Tara and Sam joined them for dinner at a nearby restaurant that evening. Tyler was there, of course, but he hung back and gave them their privacy.

  Jose Clemente didn’t see Tyler though, and thought he’d have a chance to intimidate Sam without any of her coaches, staff, or husband around.

  “Well,” he said, placing his hands on the edge of their table and leaning over it. “If it isn’t a table full of fucking cunts.”

  “If you haven’t figured it out by now, name calling doesn’t seem to bother me the way you expect it to. Please say whatever it is you came to tell us, and leave.”

  Sam gave a subtle motion with her fingers for Tyler to stay back, and she saw him move to another position in her peripheral vision, but he stayed far enough away Clemente didn’t notice him.

  “Are you afraid, without all of your men around to protect you?” Clemente sneered.

  “She handled you just fine in a cage with no men to protect her,” Cassie said.

  Tara was on the other side of the table, so she felt pretty safe saying, “I’m staying out of this, but I’d like to see ya’ll bitches stand up and wipe the floor with this annoying fucktard.”

  Kirsten looked at Sam and said, “You can’t do anything without getting in trouble with the league, but if I stand up and kick his ass…” She considered a moment and asked, “Would there be blowback on you?”

  Sam thought about it a few seconds and answered, “I don’t think so. Especially if I tell you not to engage. Which I’m doing now.” She smiled and raised her voice enough the people around them with cellphones aimed at them would be able to catch her words. “Kirsten, just ignore him. Don’t engage.”

  Clemente clearly wasn’t expecting them to sit around and discuss kicking his ass. He thought he’d scare them, and it wasn’t working. He snarled at Kirsten and said, “If you think you can take me, hop your happy ass on up and do it you little cunt.”

  Kirsten looked at Sam. “He sure does like the ‘C’ word, doesn’t he?”

  Sam smiled and shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to have much respect for the real thing, but yeah, he’s a fan of the word.”

  Clemente popped Kirsten on the cheek — more slap than punch, but it was all the excuse Kirsten needed. She stood, swept his legs, and followed him to the ground as she punched him in the face multiple times before he knew what was happening. Sam saw even more cellphones come out, and she stood and stepped away, but kept an eye on her friend. She’d jump in if Kirsten needed help, but wanted to be clear she wasn’t in on the beginning of the fight.

  Clemente hit Kirsten and she fell to the side momentarily, but jumped to her feet as Clemente came to his. Cassie joined the melee, and a
few minutes later hotel security pulled Cassie and Kirsten off him as they pummeled him.

  His face was bleeding and he was in rough shape as security tried to sort through what had happened. Sam went into attorney mode as she realized they were about to put all three combatants into custody.

  She spoke to the man who seemed to be taking charge. “Sir? There were plenty of people filming the confrontation. I believe if you look at their video, you’ll see Clemente slapped my friend Kirsten here, and she defended herself.”

  “It was two on one when we arrived,” the one holding Cassie said.

  “Yes, after Mr. Clemente punched Kirsten in the face, Cassie jumped in to help our friend.”

  Sam looked at Clemente and asked, “Do you want to press charges against the two girls who beat you up? The ones not involved in professional fighting in any way, shape, or form?”

  He slowly shook his head as he realized how bad it was going to look.

  Kirsten spoke up. “I, on the other hand, would like to press charges.”

  When the police were finished with them, Tyler escorted them back to their floor, keeping to the employee sections as much as possible so Sam could avoid talking to reporters. She still had to tell a few reporters she was out with her friends and had nothing to say at the moment.

  * * * *

  Dave was waiting for them in the conference room, but Tyler started his lecture as soon as the door closed.

  “Sam, he hated you before, now it’s a visceral, revenge oriented revulsion.”

  “Yeah, I know, but he was going to keep pushing until he got more of a reaction from me. I’m glad Kirsten didn’t let him push her around. He needs to learn not all women are weaker than him.”

  Dave got everyone’s story and prepared a press release. He emailed them the official talking points, but said he’d just as soon they not say anything to the media, if they could manage.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The fight organizers moved Clemente to the other side of the training area, and the next morning Sam discovered his opponent, the current bantam titleholder, was now beside Ethan.

  Sam introduced herself to him, and welcomed him to their side of the room.

  “I know who you are,” he said with a smile. “It’s nice to finally get a chance to say hello.”

  “You know, if Clemente wins I’ll look better, because I’ll have beat the current title holder. But I’ll be rooting for you all the way.”

  He laughed. “Thank you for that, and good luck in your fight as well.”

  Sam wasn’t sure who was responsible, but she didn’t come face to face with Jose Clemente again until three days later during weigh-ins, and even then, there were enough people separating them that Clemente would’ve had to work hard to get to her and create another ruckus.

  Sam didn’t go strictly by Dave’s talking points, but he grudgingly admitted that her telling the media she’d decided if she couldn’t say anything nice then it would be best to keep her mouth shut on the subject, and the only nice thing she could think of to say was she was glad her friends — who were not associated with professional fighting in any way — were unharmed.

  * * * *

  Ethan and Sam went to a crazy acrobatics show the day before their fight, and had a nice chance to reconnect and relax with each other.

  Their coaches arranged for them to have side-by-side massages when they returned to their hotel suite, and then the group sat around and talked until Sam and Ethan were ready to go to sleep.

  Sam was a tense ball of energy on fight day, while Ethan seemed to treat it as any other day.

  She wanted to point out how, when they went to bed that night they’d either hold the title, or they wouldn’t. They might be hurt, or might be in good shape. But, she didn’t. No need to stress him out just because she wasn’t dealing with it well.

  Miguel kept her busy throughout the day, and in the hours leading up to the fight managed to get her warmed up and stretched without sapping her energy.

  By the time she made the big walk through the crowd to the cage, she was ready to fight. Or ready to get it over with, anyway.

  Karen came at her in the first seconds of the fight with a move Sam had never seen before, and found herself flat on her back with her own arm wound around her throat.

  The sounds around her faded, her vision turned wavy and twisty, and narrowed until she thought she might be looking through a straw.

  Her survival instincts kicked in more than her fighting reflexes, and she used her last burst of energy to turn into the arm choking her, as Karen’s grip only kept her from turning away from it.

  She somehow managed to fight her way on top, but couldn’t hold onto it.

  If she’d had more oxygen in her brain she probably could’ve gained control, but she didn’t, and she lost control again and found herself locked in Karen’s legs and in danger of needing to tap out or risk a major knee injury.

  Two quick breaths in and she remembered how to counter the position. A few seconds later she was holding Karen’s head and pummeling her. Blood flew, Sam lost her grip, and Karen jumped to her feet and danced away.

  Sam made it to her feet as well and saw a nice cut above Karen’s eye.

  By the end of the first round both women were bleeding. Sam had only had the advantage on the ground twice, while Karen had pretty much dominated her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Miguel asked. “Am I going to have to stop calling you Bruiser? I’ve seen you stay on your feet when Ethan pulled those moves on you, but you let her take you down!”

  Ethan spoke from behind her. “Close your eyes. Imagine taking her down. Do it now. Imagine her trying a move and you sprawling, finding your center, and turning it around on her. You take her down and beat the holy hell out of her until the ref calls the fight. Close your eyes and see it.”

  Ethan was using his Dom voice, and Sam closed her eyes and saw it as he said it. When he finished, she imagined it all over again, with a different move, and then another. When she opened her eyes the stadium was in focus, she heard the crowd noises as more than background noise, and she was ready to get off the stool and show Karen who she was.

  When the second round started, instead of letting Karen put her hands on her, she jumped in with a modified version of her rabid weed-eater combination, as Miguel hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to prepare for the sequence she’d used against Clemente.

  As she finished the last punch, she thought she had time to spin in a circle and land an elbow in her opponent’s face. Karen moved at the last minute, and Sam only hit with a glancing blow, but it’d worked well enough and Sam had the opportunity to take Karen to the ground.

  Karen’s ground game was exceptional, and while Sam most often controlled her during this round, she couldn’t maneuver her enough to end the fight. Karen kept trying to work them towards the fence, and it was all Sam could do to keep them far enough away Karen couldn’t use it for leverage.

  On one occasion, Karen got a hand free and pounded Sam’s ribs. She didn’t think they were hurt too bad, but she felt them with every deep breath.

  And she just had to ignore her knee and push through the pain. She’d done something to it in the first round, but she couldn’t think about.

  When the bell sounded again, Miguel was much happier with her, but Jameson insisted on spending most of the break working on Sam’s eye, which was almost swollen shut. He managed to put something on it to stop the bleeding, but couldn’t do much with the swelling. However, just getting the blood out of her eye was a big help.

  Ethan’s only words were, “You can take me down, you can take her down. Think strategy. Use that great big attorney brain and bring her down before she even knows what’s happening.”

  As Sam walked back to center ring, she watched Karen walk, favoring her right leg or foot a little, and Sam tried to narrow it down. Two steps later, Sam was almost certain it was Karen’s ankle or foot, and she catalogued it and looked for somethin
g else. Karen’s arms had been higher, so she was tired. And, her left eye was nearly swollen shut, so her peripheral vision would suck on that side.

  Sam made the mental note her own wouldn’t be great, either.

  And then she put it all together to try to come up with a plan.

  Just as strategy came to her in the courtroom, a vision formed of exactly how to take her opponent down.

  Sam dropped her arms and lifted them again, this time with her left arm higher than her right.

  Her body relaxed, and her focus intensified.

  Time slowed as she watched Karen squat and then push towards her, and Sam faked a punch with her left as she swept the hurt foot, and then brought her right elbow down on the left side of Karen’s face.

  She landed a direct hit and followed her down into an almost elegant triangle choke hold as she used her other fist to pound Karen’s ribs.

  A few seconds into it, the ref waved her up and off, and Sam stumbled forward and leaned against the cage.

  Ethan was to her in seconds, though he was gentle with his victory hug.

  Jameson pushed him away and checked her over as Miguel placed ice on the back of her neck and handed her another gel pack to press to her eye.

  When the men pulled the ice away she let them walk her a few steps, and the next thing Sam knew, she was in the center of the cage and the ref was holding her arm up, and someone was encircling her waist with the huge, shiny, belt.

  She offered her hand to Karen, but Karen stepped in and hugged her, saying, “Awesome fight. You deserve the belt, but you better give me a chance to win it back.”

  Sam talked to the reporter in the ring, and then let Miguel and Tyler get her backstage without having to talk to anyone else.

  Jameson worked on her eye again, and then had her stretch out on a mat on her back with ice over her face and her right knee, which was swollen more than she’d realized.

  She should’ve tapped out in the first round, and would probably pay for sticking it out. She hadn’t realized it was hurt this bad until she made it backstage and saw the swelling, though.