The Comeback: An MMA Romance Novel (Book Two)

by Thunderbolt, Liberty

  I had something called Omniscan coursing through my veins. The technologist told me it was a contrast agent. It was the first drug, if you could call it that, in my body since yesterday morning when I took that last half pill. I was determined it would be my last. The pills I’d sat aside were now tucked away in a plastic bag in a drawer. I’d moved them from the top of the fridge. I hadn’t even had a beer.

  Thanks to Tyson and his Raman and Xbox it wasn’t as hard as I thought. It wasn’t easy though. Now I felt that what was really flowing through me was an all-consuming focus for fighting. My desire to make the money to “buy” Samantha crowded out my desire for pills or alcohol. At least it had so far.

  I’d worked out with Mace and Tyson in a way that I hadn’t in years. I busted my ass to the point of exhaustion and then reached down and gave just a little bit more. It hurt badly. I liked it. My lunatic effort seemed to spark my training partners. They pushed, too. We did a blistering three-hour session on Monday, and earlier today I did another one.

  “Mr. Todd, it’ll be a few more minutes. Please stay still,” said the metallic voice of the technologist through the sound system in the MRI.

  “Okay,” I replied.

  The machine made a succession of loud clicking sounds and then hummed. My mind drifted again. I saw myself fighting this Joey Wright kid. In my thoughts there was no uppercut that knocked me to sleep. I saw myself standing across the cage from Jordan Powers. He was a big middleweight even in my vision. I saw myself knocking him out. I saw Sam in her room, and I saw us moving into a nicer house. And then there was Elizabeth. She was in the house, too. Did I really see her living with Sam and me?

  All these dreams had to become reality. If I failed I feared I would tumble into a desperate state that I wouldn’t recover from. The next two months in my life were the tipping point. I’d either become Sam’s champion for real, or I’d end up stumbling into a hell that would eat me alive.

  Maybe it was the machine that was making me so dramatic. Maybe my thoughts were real to me. It was hard to say, because for years my mind had bounced around in a way that I definitely couldn’t always comprehend. The one real thing at the moment was the quieting of the humming cylinder. The MRI was over, and my hopes and desires and crazy ideas of the next few months rested on the images the machine produced. If something was screwed up in my head, and that wouldn’t surprise me, I’d be beaten before I ever got a chance to fight.

  Three hours later I was at Mace’s gym getting ready to train for the second time on the day. My phone rang. It wasn’t Stupid Bitch, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to talk to Leeza. She’d remained oddly silent since the offer last Friday, except for the brief visit to the hospital. I was fine with that. I answered, and it was Doctor Graham. “I just looked over your scan with the radiologist,” he said. “It looks like you’re pretty clean. Your brain isn’t too jacked up. I’m signing off for you to fight.”

  “That’s freaking awesome, thanks!”

  “Just don’t get knocked out this time, Zane.”

  I’d been training so hard over the previous three days. On Tuesday afternoon I trained even harder. I had to. It was all I had.

  Chapter 6

  It had been a crazy busy week. Poor Sam spent almost all of her weekend with me at Mace’s gym. We did go bowling and played Putt-Putt, but other than that it was a whole lot of training and watching video. Tyson had found two of Joey Wright’s fights online, and we’d watched them over and over. He was a good young fighter, but probably not as good as Tyrone Wilson, the one who dropped me just three and a half weeks ago. Even though it was less than a month, I felt like I was way better, too.

  This fight would be my coming out party, the evidence that I really was coming for Jordan Powers. He was scheduled to fight Jake Sherwood in two months in Oklahoma City.

  I’m sure it was bad karma to wish ill will on Jake, but every day I hoped he’d have to drop out of the fight. So far nothing indicated that this would happen. He’d just started his training camp in New Mexico, and everything he said was along the lines of how ready he was to take the belt.

  Nonetheless, I did my best to keep the thread on the Underground I started about how beating up Jordan Powers will be fun, going strong. It was pretty easy. Jordan posted on the first page and he was ape-shit batty. He talked about flying me out to Las Vegas so he could kick my ass now. He talked about flying to Oklahoma early so he could beat me up. He talked about how I was a pussy, bitch, washed up drug head, lazy-ass shitty fighter, the list was long. I loved every bit of it. Every time he called me all these names, I laughed at him and called him out.

  He did an interview at MMA Junkie and talked about how he wanted to shut me up. He did an interview for Cage Potato and talked about why he was so much of a better champ than me. He even put out his own video about what he would do to me if we ever got in the cage. The only thing he didn’t talk about was his upcoming fight with Jake Sherwood at UCC 145.

  I’d emailed all my paperwork to the athletic commission, complete with the MRI results and clearance from Doctor Graham on the Friday before Leeza dropped Sam off. I knew Graham was a shit doctor, but he was my favorite shit doctor when I sent in the paperwork. After my first training session of the day on Wednesday, I got the word that I was cleared to fight.

  It would be just two days when I busted up some poor kid named Joey Wright.

  Chapter 7

  The fights at the Coliseum weren’t like the big UCC events where we weighed in on a stage in front of a few thousand screaming fans. I had to be at the Coliseum by four on Thursday afternoon. That morning I weighed 188 pounds. With the one pound allowance I was golden to make 186. I jogged for thirty minutes and spent ten minutes in the sauna at the Ramada Inn. I wasn’t a guest, but I knew a guy who worked in the kitchen and he snuck me in. Plus, it was just a half mile from my house.

  An hour later, I stepped on the scale in front of Doctor Graham, Morris, Chandra from the bar, Elizabeth, and about 30 other people. Almost half of them were fighters. I was 185.6 pounds. Joey weighed in right after me. He was 185 on the nose. I’d never seen him in person. He looked like a nice guy. He also looked really nervous. He was shorter than me, but more muscular. His head was shaved and he had a tattoo on his neck. He was trying hard to look like a fighter.

  Morris called us together in front of the Coliseum Fights banner that was hanging between his office door and the women’s restroom. I’d taken my Mac’s Auto shirt off to step on the scale. Now, I pulled it on. I noticed Joey’s shirt had Microtech pasted across its front, a hell of a lot bigger sponsor than mine.

  We squared off, and Joey pushed his nose up towards mine. He fixed his meanest glare on his face and looked me in the eyes. I remained impassive, and maybe even had a little smirk on my face. This poor kid doesn’t know how beaten up he’s going to be tomorrow night, I thought. The three cameramen took a few photos. Morris patted us each on the shoulder and told us good luck. We stepped back, and I shook Joey’s hand. “Good luck,” I said.

  “Good luck,” he replied, and one of the guys with him added, “You’ll need it.”

  I just smiled.

  Elizabeth sidled up next to me. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because I’m going to kick some ass tomorrow night.”

  She planted a kiss on my dry lips. “Damn right.”

  Chapter 8

  I looked through my bag one more time. I had two pairs of shorts, gauze and tape for my hands, gloves, Vaseline, bags for ice, an enswell, three sponsor shirts, two rash guards, a set of shin pads, three medium-sized towels, two energy bars, and three big water bottles.

  I wouldn’t need all that, but I liked to be completely prepared. I threw the bag over my shoulder and walked out the front door. I nudged the screen door open with my foot and headed toward my Camaro. I was glad I might get to keep it.

  Just 10 minutes later I was in the parking lot of the Coliseum Bar. It was full because the fights were about to start. Mine was th
e co-main event on the seven-fight card. Morris had been promoting me as a man on a mission, and said things like “the former champ is a new man” and “don’t blink during the Zane Todd/Joey Wright fight.

  I parked around back so I could go through the kitchen door. Dade and Paul, cousins who ran the kitchen, stopped slaving over the food to greet me and wish me good luck.

  I really didn’t feel like I needed it. I was the former UCC champ because back then I fought like a man with a single burning purpose. Somehow I’d lost that along the way. I didn’t think I’d lost my skills though. Now my purpose was back, and my skills never left. I was so confident it was kind of scary. There were moments however when I wondered if I was a little delusional. Maybe I really had lost some of my skills. Those moments were short and infrequent.

  I entered the Coliseum and caught Chandra’s eye. I waved to her and she gave me a harried wave back. She was already busy behind the bar. I walked along the back wall and past the women’s restroom and Morris’ office. The cage was to my right and the first two fighters were waiting for the bell. There were probably two hundred people already perched on their folding chairs around the cage. I was almost to the storage room that was turned into the dressing room during fight nights, when I saw Leeza. She saw me, too.

  Shit, I did not want to deal with her right now. She smiled and walked toward me. She was wearing a short black dress and silver heels. Her hair was done up and she looked really freaking hot. Just a beautiful façade on a decrepit inside.

  “This is your plan, Zane? You’re going to fight in this crap hole to make the money for Sam? You’re going to have to fight like 70 times.”

  “Piss off, Leeza. What are you doing here anyway?”

  “Relax, I’m just joking. I’m here to watch the fights…and support you.”

  “I don’t need your support.”

  “I’ll give it to you anyway. Lorenzo and I were reading your thread on the Underground yesterday. It’s hilarious. I see what you’re doing, but there is no way you’re going to get to fight Jordan.”

  I just shrugged my shoulders, and she took a sip of her mixed drink. It looked like Jack and Coke.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I hope it works out, but it’s kind of a crazy plan.”

  Again I shrugged. “We’ll see. It’s the only plan I got right now.”

  The crowd roared as one fighter knocked down the other. The first fight was underway. It looked like it wouldn’t last long.

  “So what’s the deal? Are you fucking Sam’s teacher?’

  “What?”

  “It’d be just like you to fuck up like that.”

  “It’s none of your business what I’m doing,” I replied as my face turned red. “I’ve got to get ready.” I pushed past Leeza.

  She grabbed my arm. “I’ll be cheering for you, Zane, just like old times.” Leeza smiled. “And I don’t even see Sam’s teacher here.”

  She was a fan I didn’t need, and part of the old times I wanted to forget.

  “Elizabeth will be here, don’t worry.”

  Chapter 9

  I stood between Mace and Tyson as we waited in the storage room. My Mac’s Auto shirt was on, and sweat was running from my hairline. My arms hung limply at my side and I shook my gloved hands, one and then the other, over and over.

  “I know you’re fired up, but you have to be smart,” Mace said. “Not too much emotion.”

  Joey’s music quieted. It was almost time for my entrance. It wouldn’t be long and drawn out like the ones in the UCC, because the walk to the cage was a short one. Morris cracked the door open a few inches. “It’s time, Zane. You ready?”

  I nodded that I was. The Beastie Boys blasted through the Coliseum Bar. It was Sabotage, and I started bobbing my head immediately. I’d told Morris to play whatever he wanted. He knew I liked The Beastie Boys. I walked out of the storage room flanked by my training partners, and Morris stood there smiling.

  “Nice choice,” I said.

  The bar was dim, not completely dark.A couple of strobe lights pelted the crowd as they screamed and cheered. I turned left and took ten steps behind the last row of fans, and then turned right and walked down the aisle toward the cage. They slapped me on the shoulder, tried to high five me, and screamed words of encouragement. I took my time, bobbing my head to the beat while holding my gloved hands out so the fans could slap them.

  Moments later, I was standing outside of the cage Doctor Graham told me to take off my shirt and shoes. I did, and then he wiped Vaseline on my face. I turned and gave Mace and Tyson knuckles and started toward the steps to the cage. The crowd was almost right on top of us, the first row just six or so feet from the apron, and in it I saw Lorenzo and Leeza. He stood there with a beer in one hand and his other hand in his pocket. Leeza watched me intently. Her hands were clasped in front of her almost like she was praying. I knew that sure the hell wasn’t the case. Then again, maybe she was. She loved money, and her meal ticket was walking into the cage.

  I looked away quickly. I couldn’t start thinking too much about her and the bullshit situation she’d put me and Samantha in. And then I saw Elizabeth. She wore a red dress that clung to her hips. The neckline plunged in a V, revealing beautiful cleavage. Her black hair shined, and her dark eyes ate me up. I couldn’t help but smile. She returned the smile, and I had an immediate sense of comfort.

  I walked up the three steps and turned around and raised my arms to the fans. They cheered, The Beastie Boys screamed that it was a sabotage, and the strobe lights made it look like the fans were break dancing.

  I then spun around and entered the cage door. Everything else was gone. It was just me and a kid named Joey Wright.

  Chapter 10

  Joey bounced up and down and tilted his head to the left and then the right. I paced back and forth, two steps one way and then I reversed course. The whole time I kept my eyes fixed on the kid. He seemed hungry, and much more confident than he did at the weigh-in.

  Jerry was refereeing again. He’d become quasi-famous after the clip of me grabbing his leg had been shown eight million times all over the internet. He pointed at Joey and said something I couldn’t hear. Joey nodded his head. Then Jerry turned to me. “You ready to fight, Zane?”

  I gave a nod of the chin to signal that I was. Jerry clapped his hands together. “Let’s fight,” he yelled.

  I walked to the center of the cage with my left arm extended high. I met Joey there, and we bumped gloves. He then stepped back for a split second and opened up with a combination. I’d planned on being the aggressor. So much for plans.

  I backed up and circled to the right. His jab and cross were well short. He landed an outside leg kick to my right leg. I fired a jab that caught him flush. The fight was on.

  Another combo from Joey, but he was well off the mark. I stung him with another jab, and then another. He shot for a double leg. It was slow, and I was in perfect position to react with a knee. It blasted him in the chin. His head snapped to the side. I could tell he was hurt. He tried desperately to hold onto my right leg.

  His head was to the inside and I hammer fisted the side of it with my left hand. Then I did it again and again. He was bleeding and in trouble already. I was a shark in the water. He tried to roll to his right to avoid any more damage. I followed him and delivered two more brutal left hands. He fell face first to the canvas. I was on his back and kept blasting.

  He went limp. Jerry dove in to knock me off Joey Wright. I stood up and raised both hands in the air. I’d won. I felt good, but didn’t celebrate too much. I wasn’t done with what I came to do.

  The time was announced. The fight took just 29 seconds. Less than half a minute, and I felt like I hadn’t felt in a long time. Mace and Tyson pulled my shirt on over my sweaty head and I found the nearest camera. The fights were on Sherdog once again, and I had something to say.

  I got within a couple feet of the camera and pointed directly at it. “Jordan Powers, I know you’re in the basement of yo
ur mom’s house watching this right now. I’m coming for your punk ass. I can’t wait to put you to sleep. Now go talk about that on the underground, bitch!”

  I stalked out of the cage and down the stairs. I was met by jubilant fans who high-fived me and slapped me on the back. Then Leeza was standing in front of me. “That was badass, Zane,” she said and gave me a hug.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, but didn’t return the hug.

  I was doing this to get away from her. It was seemingly having the opposite effect.

  Elizabeth nudged her out of the way. “Oh my God! That was like the Zane I remember.”

  I hugged her tightly and glanced at Leeza. She looked like she’d just eaten a lemon.

  Chapter 11

  It had been thirty minutes since I’d walked out of the cage. The main event had just ended, and I was standing next to the bar talking with Morris. “Looks like Chandra needs some help. How bout I work for a few hours?”

  “You just got done fighting, Zane. Why don’t you have a drink or two and enjoy the victory with that pretty lady?” he nodded toward Elizabeth who was sitting at a table along the side wall.

  “It’s not a victory yet, Morris. Not until I pay Leeza her money and Samantha is mine. I’ll probably make pretty good money behind the bar tonight considering I just fought.”

  “If you want to I’m not going to stop you.”

  It took me about five minutes to get behind the bar. I had to stop and take photos with about ten fans. Then a minute later I started serving them drinks. It was kind of surreal, but the fans loved the fact that I was working at the bar after fighting. A bunch more photos were taken and the tips piled up. I also managed to stay away from drinking any booze, and my left hand was slightly swollen from punching Joey’s head, but it wasn’t hurt badly.