We went back and forth throwing short punches at each other. I leaned on him as hard as I could, made him carry my weight. I slammed a knee into his gut. He answered by blasting me with his own knee.
I heard every one of his grunts and felt his heavy breathing. It seemed his demeanor had changed. He knew he was in a fight. I wanted to break and unleash hell on him. I got my right arm over his and pushed away. He went into the cage and bounced off. I timed a short left hook perfectly and connected with his jaw. Then I delivered a right hook. His legs went out from under him.
It sounded like a train was barreling through the arena as the crowd went crazy. Jordan Powers fell face first, and in an instant I desperately wanted to take out all the pain and frustration that had been eating at my guts for the last five years.
He was dazed and trying to recover. I pounced on his back and got my hooks in. This was it. I was going to finish the piece of shit right now!
I posted up, almost like I was riding a drunken bull, and hammered at the sides of his head, left hand, then right, over and over. He did his best to cover up and his hands were high on his head. “You’ve got to do something, Jordan,” Daniel McCoy yelled over the crowd
I saw the opportunity and slipped my right arm under his chin.
He recognized the rear naked choke and defended. I threw some lefts to soften him up more. I worked hard for his neck. I was close.
“One minute, one minute,” Mace screamed.
I pushed forward slightly for better leverage, trying my hardest to dig my forearm under his chin. I wanted to shut down his blood flow and put his ass to sleep. I hit him a couple more times. He turned. I felt like I had it.
He gripped at my hands and tried to explode up. I started to lose my right hook and he rose up again. I was too high and tried to settle. He was on all fours one instant, and the next he slammed his face toward the canvas and tucked to his right. I slipped over his head and we both scrambled.
I did everything I could to keep him down, but with the ten-second warning we were both back to our feet. I was so damn close, but I let him slip away.
His face was really red and swollen on the left side, and a knot had formed over his left eye. He looked tired. I had the momentum, and I tried to keep it. I threw a combo, but my arms felt heavy and slow. I sucked in air, but it wasn’t satisfying. I threw another combo. It felt like I had concrete blocks attached to my hands.
The horn sounded. I had kicked the crap out of Jordan Powers in round one, but I was flat-ass exhausted. I got to my corner. Mace and Tyson went to work, just one minute until round two.
Chapter 46
Tyson rubbed a bag of ice on the back of my neck while Mace talked. “Great work Zane, deep breathes, relax, control your heart rate.”
I tried to listen, but I felt like I needed to gulp the air and my heart was untamable.
“Look at him, Zane. He’s beat to hell. Don’t do anything fancy. Get him against the cage, rough him up, take him down. If he gets back up, do it again.”
I nodded, but was too tired to respond.
Tyson held up the water bottle. “Little sips,” he said.
I took a few sips and my breathing and heart rate began to slow. Daniel McCoy appeared. “Seconds out.”
It was the fastest damn minute of my life. Tyson poured water on my mouthguard and stuck it back in my mouth. “If you need, circle for a little bit and get your wind back.”
“Let’s go, everybody out,” the guy from the athletic commission said.
I’d shot my wad trying to finish Jordan in the first round. I needed more time. I didn’t have it.
“Time to fight,” Daniel yelled.
I trudged back out to the center of the cage. Jordan met me there, but he was a lot slower than he was in the first round. I circled. He did as well. After twenty seconds or so I fired off an inside low kick. It hit him square. He answered with an overhand right that landed, but did nothing.
Again we circled a little more.
“Let’s go, Zane! You’re letting him back in,” Mace hollered.
He was right, but I still felt weak. We were a minute into the second round and the crowd was getting restless. I heard a spattering of boos because of the inaction. We both tossed a few jabs and weak rights at each other. I was gaining strength and finally decided it was time to get after it.
I moved forward and fired off a straight right. It landed, and Jordan backed up. I followed it up with a left hook and then I shot. I hit a deep double leg and Jordan sprawled and fought to keep his footing. I planted my left foot and turned the corner and he met the canvas with me scrambling for side control.
I ended up in his half guard and immediately started throwing elbows. Two hit their mark perfectly. A line of blood formed next to Jordan’s left eye and dripped onto the canvas.
It was like the blood made him snap into a different mode. He shifted and swept me. We scrambled again. He ended up on top for a second. I arched and helped his weight right over me, and he tumbled.
We then both bounced to our feet and the crowd wasn’t booing anymore.
I went right back to work and pushed forward. He planted his feet and we both sat in the pocket and opened up. I hit him. He hit me. And then I was on the canvas. He landed behind my ear. It knocked me dizzy. I felt fine except for the fact that it seemed like I was on a ship in a storm.
I rolled to my back and Jordan was in my guard. He blasted me with a right, and then a left. I couldn’t get over being dizzy. I thrust my hands upward and tried to grab his wrists. I fought to keep him from posturing up. He dinged me with a short elbow. Blood ran into my eyes. I didn’t feel it, but apparently I was cut. He zoned in on my cut, or so it seemed, and threw punches and elbows like he wanted to flatten my head.
I shifted my hips and gripped his right arm. I got my legs high on his neck and he recognized that I was going for a triangle. He postured, and the fleeting submission was gone. I was finally able to push him off me and come to my feet.
He stayed in my face, and I returned fire. Then the next thing I knew I was sitting in my corner.
Chapter 47
My vision was blurry. I felt like I was about as high as I’d ever been. My shoulders felt like they were carrying around a couple of dead logs. Flashes of Leeza calling the police assaulted my muddled brain. Then she was shirtless in my hotel room. She faded, and was replaced with Elizabeth. I saw her beautiful body on top of me that first night in her house. Then there was Morris and the Coliseum. For a moment I wondered if this was a dream and I was really behind the bar serving drinks. Finally, there was Sam. She was walking with me, hand in hand. She looked up at me and smiled.
“Zane, Zane, you with us? Mace yelled.
I was coming out of my fog, and Mace’s words found my brain. “You absolutely have to stop him or win this round, Zane.”
I noticed Stitch was working on my forehead. I vaguely remembered he’d said something about being in my corner because Powers liked having his own cutman.
“Zane! Are you hearing what I’m telling you? You’re down three rounds to one. You have to have this one.”
“Wait, it’s the third round, right?”
“No, it’s the fifth,” Mace looked at me funny. “Are you alright, Zane?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but I thought it was the third.”
Stitch wiped something onto my forehead. “He lost some rounds. I’ve seen it before,” he said to Mace. “He’s back now.”
“Are you with us now, Zane?”
“Yeah,” I said. The fog was continuing to lift.
“Look, you probably won the first round 10 to 8. You lost the next three. You have to dominate this round or stop him for the win. Can you do that?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, go all in. Five minutes is nothing. Reach deeper than you ever have before and find a way. Bring Sam home!”
I sucked in air through my nose and nodded. “I will,” I said.
“Seconds out!”
Mace in
serted my mouthguard.
I didn’t know what the hell had happened over the last two rounds, but I was still in the fight.
I stood and tried to find Sam in the crowd. My eyes couldn’t catch up with my head and I gave up trying. I’d get to see her real soon, and I had five minutes to make sure I’d really end up being her champion.
Chapter 48
I had no idea how my face looked, but Jordan’s was jacked to hell. His left eye was almost swollen shut, and it had a big cut above it. His lip was split. His nose looked like it was broke.
We met in the center of the cage. He raised his hand and nodded. I reached up and touched his glove with my own. He then took a step back and shot in for a single. I escaped it easily and landed a left to the side of his head.
He circled away. I followed. I threw another low kick and heard the slap of shin on thigh. I’d hit him with a dozen low kicks, at least that I could remember, and his leg was red and purple from them.
I threw another one, a little harder than the last. He dropped his hands and raised his leg to try to check it. He hobbled away after the blow, and it gave me an idea. He circled to the left, and I went to the right hard and cut him off. I landed a right. He answered with one of his own.
I caught him again with another right. He threw a push kick to my stomach to get me away. It created the perfect distance. I looked low and threw what he thought would be another low kick, except I went high.
The top of my foot landed on the back of his neck. He stumbled, but didn’t fall, and lunged forward to tie me up. We fought in the clinch. I threw punches while he tried to recover.
I pushed him into the cage. My arms burned. My vision was blurry. My ribs hurt.
“One minute,” Mace yelled.
I pushed away and cut loose with a barrage of punches. I gave it everything I had, but Jordan Powers was game. He did his best to move his head and countered with a few shots of his own.
I heard the crowd for the first time since the first round when it looked like I was just one or two punches away from the belt. They roared loudly, and it helped squeeze out the last little bit of adrenaline left in my body.
Jordan reached for my head. He wanted to clinch. I backed away and stood in the center of the cage. He looked like his face had been chewed up by a dirty rat. I’m sure mine didn’t look much better. For a split second we just stared at one another. Then I motioned with my hands. “Come on,” I said.
He didn’t want to, but Jordan came forward.
“Ten seconds,” Daniel hollered.
We both opened up. No technique, no calculation, just all out hands flying with everything we had.
The horn sounded. We were both standing, bloody and beaten, in the center of the cage. I’d hated this guy just thirty minutes before. I’m sure the feeling was mutual, but we’d beaten that out of each other. We hugged.
Then Stitch was there, working on my cut. And right after him it was Mace and Tyson. “What a fight, Zane!” Mace yelled.
Tyson lifted me up and carried me around the cage. The crowd showed their appreciation.
Mace helped pull my shirt on over my sweaty head. And then Oliver Reed approached me with a smile on his face. “Brilliant fight, Zane. You came through for us.”
“To the center,” the referee Daniel McCoy said. “Scores are up.”
I stood next to him. Jordan took his place on the other side. I glanced behind me and saw Nick Lewis standing there with the middleweight belt. He was ready to put it around one of our waists.
Jace West stepped forward. “Ladies and gentlemen, after five rounds of exciting action we have a decision. All three judges scored this bout 47-47, a draw!”
I watched as Nick placed the belt around Jordan’s waist. Since he was the champ he retained it. I didn’t know what to think. My brain was sluggish.
Nick patted Jordan on the shoulder. “Hell of a fight,” I heard him say.
Then he came over to me. “Congratulations, Zane. It was a great performance.”
“Thank you,” I said, but I didn’t feel like congratulations were in order. I didn’t do what I set out to do. The belt wasn’t around my waist, and I was unsure if I’d done enough to be able to buy my daughter.
Chapter 49
I sat in a folding chair deep in the guts of the arena behind a blue curtain. Tyson finished cutting the tape off my hands, and a moment later two doctors approached. “How do you feel?” the one in jeans and a white button-up shirt and gray sports coat asked.
“Not bad, but I’ve been better.”
He smiled. Let us check you out. He pushed on my face and asked me if it hurt. Of course it did, but I could tell nothing was majorly jacked up. He shined a light in my eyes and had me follow his fingers. All the while he mumbled things like, good and okay. He had me open my mouth and checked it with the light.
Then he grabbed each hand and pushed on it. My right hand had a nice knot on it, but it didn’t really hurt when he pushed. “Not broke,” he said.
The other doctor stepped forward. He was in a short-sleeved red shirt that had UCC in small letters on the left breast pocket. He was older and shifted his glasses up on his nose as he leaned down to look me over.
“I’m guessing five or six,” the first doctor said.
The second guy examined me and put his gloved thumb up by the cut on my forehead. “It’s pretty deep,” he said. “I’ll do six to make sure we take care of it right.”
A few minutes later the wound was clean and the doc sewed me back up. It only took him a minute, but it was a lot longer than the time Jordan’s elbow needed to make the gash.
With my new stitches and a fairly clean bill of health, Mace, Tyson, and I headed back to our dressing room. I planned on changing clothes and cleaning up a bit before the post-fight press conference.
As I was putting on my new shirt, Nick and Oliver came through the door.
“How you feeling, Zane?” Nick asked.
“Not bad, but I’d be better if I had the belt.”
“Well, you put on a tremendous performance. Seriously one of the best damn fights we’ve had in a long time.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Maybe this will cheer you up,” Oliver said, and he handed me a check.
I glanced at it and it was for $31,000. It did make me feel better, but apparently I’d need to rob a bank to come up with the remaining amount to get to $75,000.
“That’s minus the fees and all that other crap,” Oliver again.
“And we have something else for you, Zane,” Nick said. “You took the fight on short notice and showed that you belong. We want to sign you to a few more fights and give you this, a bonus for your efforts.”
He held out another check, this one was for $10,000. Maybe I’d just have to rob a liquor store instead of a bank.
“And one more Zane, you and Jordan earned the fight of the night bonus.” Nick held out another check.
I took it and glanced at the total. Then I stared at it in disbelief. Sure enough, I wasn’t still loopy from the fight. It was for $50,000! When added all together I’d made just over $90,000 and Morris’ sponsor money ended up coming in at $19,000.
“Holy crap, thank you so much,” I said.
“You deserve it. I never thought you’d be able to make a comeback like you’ve done. We’ll sit down with you and Morris soon to negotiate a three-fight deal, and it seems we need to talk about a rematch in the near future.”
My bumps and bruises and cuts weren’t hurting so much. I wanted to do one thing, find Leeza and Lorenzo and shove $75,000 in their faces and tell them to get their asses down to Texas.
Chapter 50
I was in the hotel lobby signing autographs and taking photos with fans. Mace and Tyson were there, too. The fight had ended an hour and a half ago. After the adrenaline had drained, my body started aching, but every ache and pain was worth it.
The fans treated me like I had won. In many of their eyes I did. Jordan Powers had looked
nearly unbeatable over his last few fights. Even when he went to a decision he had looked dominating. Very few people had given me a chance. I was so glad the people who were closest to me believed I could do it. They helped me believe as well.
The mob began to clear. I snapped the last few photos and chatted with the remaining fans. I planned on a hot shower and a brief appearance at the after party in the hotel bar. I’d hoped to see Sam after the fight, but in the chaos we were unable to connect. I started to walk toward the elevators when Leeza came through the glass doors. Sam was with her, and she made a beeline toward me.
I bent down, and Sam jumped into my arms. “Daddy, are you alright?”
“Of course, sugar.”
“That was a tough fight. I think you won.”
“Thanks Sam. It was a tough fight. Did it scare you?”
“No way. I knew you could fight him good.”
I laughed.
“Sam, why don’t you go over there by the fireplace,” Leeza said. “You can play on the iPad.”
I looked up at Leeza. Her dress fit perfectly. She looked as good as ever. I didn’t let my eyes linger, though. I realized she didn’t have anything to offer me anymore, at least not after our deal was complete.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said, and gave Sam a big hug.
“Okay, Daddy. I can’t wait.”
She bounded off toward the fireplace with the iPad in hand.
“Can we talk?” Leeza asked.
“Okay,” I replied.
We headed over to the same table Morris and I had sat at the previous night. A whole lot had changed in 24 hours.
“Zane, I’m sorry about earlier today. That was the wrong time and the wrong thing. You fought so great tonight.”
“Thanks, Leeza.”
“Really, you looked even better than you did five years ago.” She leaned her forearms on the table to get a little closer. Her breasts almost spilled out of her tight dress. “Now that it’s all over, I want you to really think about us.”
I just looked at Leeza. I almost felt pity for her. I really wanted to tell her to go to hell, but I needed to make sure our deal was still intact.
The Comeback: An MMA Romance Novel (Book Two) Page 12
