Hold 2

by Jayne Blue

  There were sixteen guys and Craddock recognized some of them. He was more concerned about the ones he did not recognize. He believed to his core that he could beat anyone in the U.S.; the international competitors were more unknown to him. There could be a surprise.

  These were light heavyweights, not as big a G-Man but to a man they were all well over six foot and all needed to weigh in at 200 on the dot or under to compete. Craddock stood behind the couch with his arms folded. Some fighters made themselves at home on the couch; others mimicked his menace and sized him up. He would be on guard at all times on this show. Lounging on the fucking couch did not put fear in the heart of an opponent. Soft people needed soft furniture. That was his game for Tough House. He saw he was not the only one with that play. Others were standing and still. They were the ones to pay attention to he decided.

  Then into the fray came Meyer Thompson, he was the same size as the men in the room but probably fifteen years older. It did not diminish the fact that he looked like he could still kick ass. Every man in the room had respect for Thompson. He took a crappy, unknown league and turned into a billion dollar machine. Not only that, but he also gave fighters a way to earn a living as pros, without them having to go bar-to- bar to fight for dollar bills.

  Craddock knew all there was to Google about Thompson, including that he was a fighter first and back in the day. He had been frustrated that there was not a pro league. Out of that frustration grew an idea.

  Thompson borrowed a million dollars to start the 21C from his billionaire dad and never looked back. They say he paid his dad back tenfold. That is why Craddock, and most fighters, respected Thompson, despite his silver spoon past.

  The murmuring in the room died down and Meyer Thompson spoke. The speech officially started the show. He was speaking to them and Craddock remembered watching this same scene play out with the previous seasons of Tough to the Top.

  “I’m Meyer Thompson. Welcome to Tough to the Top. Every one of you is a contender. My scouts and I have scoured the world to find the next 21C star. Any one of you could win. You all have the potential.

  But, let me be honest. Only one of you is going to be Tough to the Top. Bones are going to break, blood is going to be spilled and you will be tested. The winner of this gets the biggest prized in Tough to the Top history and our full support as you make a name for yourself in 21C.

  I am not going to back anyone that does not deserve the title held by the legends in this sport. Some of you will lose, some of you will submit, some of you will be broken, and some of you will not be able to handle the pressure.

  Two of you will emerge from our sixteen-man single elimination tournament. We’re going to balls to the walls. Next week, you will all fight on the same day for a two-hour episode of the show. We will go down to eight so fast your head will spin.

  For your families back home we are airing these right after they happen. You fight on a Monday; it airs on Friday. You fight on a Monday; it airs on Friday. You all know the last season was ruined for the fans when the results were leaked. This year, there is no chance of that. I have hired more cameras, more editors, and put in more twists than any previous season.

  This season’s Tough to the Top will be the toughest we have ever had. This season the two fighters in the finals will have gone through more training obstacles, personal challenges, and brutal fights than ever before. The winner has the potential for more money than ever before; not one-million, but a possible 1.5 million with the extra coming in the form of your first endorsement.”

  With that new information, a lot of hoots and hollers broke the silence. Craddock took a deep breath. He wanted this. It was fifteen men away. His game started now. He stared across the room and a dark man with a dark gaze stared back at him. They were the only two who reacted to the purse with stillness to the payout news.

  That Craddock did not know who the fighter was made him realize it was probably an international fighter. He would get to work figuring out his game soon. The two men had already sized each other up. They had keyed into each other and there was probably a reason.

  Craddock refocused on Meyer Thompson who appeared to be finishing the big opening speech. “One week from tonight, sixteen fights, eight men gone. Use your week wisely gentleman.”

  There was a little back and forth among the fighters. Craddock decided to get the lay of the land, see if his food was in order. Producers had asked him for a grocery list, his diet was important; he needed to stay strong at 200, so that meant a lot of good food. He also could not go over, so that meant discipline. He walked into the kitchen and opened the doors of the two giant refrigerators. The names of fighters were written with a Sharpie on a bunch of the items. Yep, that was going to be a problem. He already knew they would steal.

  Many of the fighters were talking and shaking hands. Craddock wanted none of it. The Craddock Unit needed him and they ushered him to what probably supposed to be a den or something but was set up in several stations.

  “Craddock have a seat. This is your confessional area.” Tracy the Craddock Unit producer told him. Brian set a light and the little assistant who he had helped came over and gave him a shy look. She tried to hide under her ball cap and he tried to get around it. Something about her was familiar and he wanted a better look.

  “What’s your name again?” He asked her.

  “Julie.” She made brief eye contact and he could see a blush on her cheeks.

  “I need to put this up your shirt okay?”

  “Sure sweetheart.” A little flirting couldn’t hurt.

  Julie put a tentative hand at the bottom of his shirt and ran her fingers up his abs through to his collar to hide the mic chord. Her hands were soft, little, and she was clearly embarrassed. It was somewhat funny.

  “Julie, have we met before this show?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She quickly got out of the shot. A light clicked on and shone in his eyes. Shit, that was hot. They wanted him uncomfortable. Well fuck that. It was show time.

  “Why didn’t you shake hands, introduce yourself out there?” Tracy asked off camera. He did not need to tell Craddock to look straight at the lens.

  “There isn’t a million and a half dollar prize for congeniality.”

  “Still.”

  “I don’t have time for the eight losers who are about to go home on the first night.”

  “What do you have time for?”

  “Training.”

  “So what are you weaknesses? Meyer Thompson talked about temptation.”

  “I’ve got a bad temper.” He was looking straight into the camera for every answer.

  “Maybe that’s a strength.”

  “How often will we be doing these little interviews?”

  “Every day, buddy. Every day.” Craddock sought out Julie who was trying to stay out of the way.

  “Well Julie we’re going to get really close.” He winked in her direction.

  “Good, that was a good first interview Flynn. The ladies are going to cream for you.”

  Craddock rolled his eyes. Well the Craddock Unit seemed to be on his team that was something.

  Chapter Three

  Cassidy

  Cassidy was proud of herself for getting up, getting dressed, and getting on with it despite the continued physical ache she felt without Craddock. Today she headed for the first meeting with Dr. Paul Showers. He would be her adviser for this year. It was part of the deal of her grant.

  To pay the grant back she would have to commit to a year of social work in a challenged Michigan City after she was graduated. She was thrilled about that part since that was what she wanted to do anyway. She would also have to help Dr. Showers with his research at the Department of Family Services. She had no idea what that would entail, but she was excited.

  Zeke had stuck to his deal and insisted she pick him up before her first interview. He waited in his car, that she drove, while she went into the big government building to meet her new supervisor.
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  Dr. Showers’s office was down a long corridor. His door was closed, so she knocked lightly.

  “Come in!” She heard from the other side so she took a deep breath and went in. It could not be any more intimidating than walking into GWG the first day.

  She peered around the door and a man in a tweed blazer, knit tie, and glasses looked up from his computer. He had brown hair, brown eyes behind the specs, and he looked to her to be in his early thirties if that. She was surprised to find him so young and nerdy but she had to admit, handsome in a scruffy way.

  “Cassidy? Cassidy Parker, have a seat.” He stood up and several papers fluttered off his desk and down to the floor. She attempted to help retrieve them.

  “No no. Don’t worry.”

  “So, you want to be a social worker? Quite a low-paying career option for someone with your ACT scores and online grades.”

  “I don’t care about the money.”

  “That’s good because there isn’t any.” He smiled at her. She smiled back.

  “I just want to help kids in the situations that I was in.”

  “Oh, yes, your situation. You wrote about it in your grant application essay. Pretty tough start there, Parker.”

  “I had a terrific case worker who made the difference. I want to be that for someone.”

  “You want to make a difference? Good. Unfortunately what I need you to do is to make a good set of copies in most cases.” He handed her a pile of papers.

  “You’ll be here once a week, four hours, and you’ll basically do office work as I turn that behemoth of data and academic theory into an actual recommendation.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Great, read my paper, the one in your hands, see what you think, come up with questions and I’ll see you here, what, maybe 7 a.m.?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m not sir, I’m Paul.”

  “Paul.”

  “Don’t worry if you don’t understand something in there, just tell me. I am working to make it shorter, concise, and clear about why we need to stabilize the educational environment for foster children.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Paul took off his glass is and focused in on Cassidy.

  “How many foster homes were you in Cassidy?”

  “Eleven.” Cassidy looked down. She tried to forget how many moves, goodbyes, escapes and disappointments happened from the moment she was 14 until they kicked her out.

  “Don’t be embarrassed this is my job, to figure out a better way. So how many schools in that same time frame?”

  “Eleven.”

  “So you probably had a best friend and fit right in at each of those eleven schools, were a cheerleader and homecoming queen eh?”

  “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

  “I’m being sarcastic; you don’t have one friend from that time do you?”

  Cassidy was not enjoying this part of the meeting. He was right and it brought back every feeling of isolation and otherness from being the new kid all the time. The second she would find a lunch table to sit at, a club to join, a person to walk to homeroom with, she would be shipped away to start again.

  “My research is aimed at getting foster kids to stay at their schools instead of moving districts like you had to do. We have spent all this time and energy looking at the homes and have been missing a built-in stabilizer. School!” Dr. Paul Showers was passionately explaining his data, his theories. He threw statistics in her direction as if they meant something. But, the bottom line, she got it. She got what he was after.

  “I want to build the structure they need, the connections, the community in school, in a place that already exists. What do you think?”

  Cassidy knew his idea was right, knew if she’d had at least stayed in the same school she could have had a chance at friends, even some sort of normal life growing up.

  “I think it’s brilliant and she meant it, “put me to work!”

  “Okay, your first day is this Thursday I’ll have a bunch of boring office work for you to do, for the cause!” Paul put his finger in the air to punctuate the statement. Cassidy smiled. This guy was nutty but she liked him.

  “For the cause!” She mimicked his motion and he nodded his approval.

  “I have to do twice the work in half the time because if no big donor comes through the funding for this project will end at the end of the semester.”

  “Well I work fast.” She assured him.

  “Good, if I have no funding I have to move on and get a real job and this idea of mine will rot on the vine.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll see you Thursday then.”

  “See you Thursday Cassidy.”

  She figured she could not end her first meeting with her supervisor on any better note. As she walked back to Zeke and his car, she realized she was happy, excited and for the first time in days she felt positive about the future. She felt like she could help Dr. Showers, Paul; get his project done, even with the impending money crisis. At least she would try her best.

  She got in the car and Zeke immediately noticed.

  “That’s darned beautiful.” He said as he looked at her with surprise.

  “What?”

  “You’re smiling; you practically skipped to the car. It’s a gorgeous sight to behold.”

  “Oh stop it, I haven’t been that bad.”

  “You were killing me with those sad eyes.” The mood turned serious out of nowhere.

  “I’m sorry, I just.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about, I’m just glad to see you like this.”

  “I’m so excited to start my internship with Dr. Showers, Paul. He’s got such a good idea that could help so many kids.”

  “Paul?” Zeke put a finger out to Cassidy’s jaw and tilted it in his direction. All of a sudden, her rush of information about Dr. Showers’ research came to a halt. She saw Zeke look different. Her friend had turned very intense and that intensity was being directed toward her.

  “Do I have keep my eye on this brilliant Paul now?”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to come in second again.” Cassidy felt a heat flushing her face. Zeke moved his hand from her jawline to her hair and twirled a lock of it in his fingers.

  “Zeke, you know, I’m still raw. But I don’t want to hurt you or mislead, it’s too soon.”

  “I can wait. I just don’t want the PhD. of your dreams to jump the line.”

  “There’s no line. Can I ask you something?” Her talk with Showers about friends had her feeling very lonely and thinking she was sorely lacking in the friend department.

  “Anything.”

  “I need a friend. I haven’t had one and I think you might be a best friend caliber person.” Cassidy felt the tears spill out of her eyes.

  “You’ve got a best friend now, forever, come here.”

  Zeke slid her from the driver’s seat over to his side and wrapped his arms around her. She sank into them and felt safe and comforted. Then she felt Zeke put his lips on the top of her head. She pretended to herself that this was what friends did. She put away that worry. Having her very first best friend was worth a little worry.

  Craddock

  Her felt her skin, soft, and cool as he pulled the sheet away from her body in the cold little apartment. She stirred as he lightly ran his hand over her thigh. He circled her hipbone with his fingers. Her stomach was soft, slightly concave as she lay there but not rippled like his, he leaned over and brushed his lips over her belly button, kissed her hip where he had stroked it. She murmured something but she was not fully with him yet, which meant he could look all he wanted without her getting shy.

  As lightly as he could, his fingers continued their upward progression. He went quickly over her rib, he knew she would wake if he stayed there, she was insanely ticklish, her writhing around in giggles had its appeal but that is not what he wanted right then.

  Her breasts were so beautiful, the underside so soft, he ra
n his fingers under them and she came closer to consciousness. He watched the buds of her nipples pebble. It took all the control he had to slide his fingers gently around one, then the other; she began to move, and shifted from lying beside her to slowly lowering his weight on to her. She felt so incredible, skin to skin like this. He wanted to dive in but still he waited.

  He cupped both of her breasts pushed them together. She was breathing heavily now, opening her legs as he positioned himself at her entrance and teased her, touched her.

  He lowered his head and took in her nipple, sucking it in between his lips, his teeth, running his rough tongue over one while he rolled the other; she was gripping him tightly now, her hands pulling his hair. She had gone from asleep to desperate. Then she quietly begged him, the words and breath entwining in his ear. “Please Craddock, please now.” He lifted his face from her nipple and ran his tongue up to her neck.

  “Please now what, Aghrá?”

  “Please, now, fuck me, I need you inside me, Craddock, I can’t stand it anymore.”

  Neither could he. He dove in, to the hilt, she cried out and clenched around him.

  He moved inside her and with only one word in his mind and on his lips, "Cassidy. Cassidy. Cassidy."

  “Craddock?” He felt a small touch on his shoulder.

  What the fuck? Where was he? What the...?

  “Craddock? You need to move, the guys need to be in the gym in fifteen minutes.”

  Craddock opened his eyes and it began to register where he was, Fight House. Julie stood over him and looked worried.

  “I’m sorry, but Tracy and I didn’t want you to be late.” She stepped back.

  “No, it’s okay, I just have to get dressed and we’re good.”

  Craddock realized he would be giving Julie a major show if he stood up. He was nude. Well, fuck it, he gathered his bed sheet around him and sauntered to the adjoining bathroom.

  As he closed the bathroom door, he thought he heard Julie say, “We need him shirtless, a lot. I mean the show needs him shirtless a lot.”

  Craddock doused himself in cold water, threw on his training shorts and shirt and sauntered out to grab his bag. He would be damned if he would let on that he had had the hottest dream of his life or that it was not a dream, but a memory. One he had been trying to suppress. Cassidy Parker was still very much on his mind, under his skin, and in his heart.