by Jayne Blue
As they stood for pictures they couldn’t be any more opposite. He supposed that was why Meyer Thompson seemed to be watching the both of them more intently than the rest of the fighters.
As the cameras snapped from the local sports media, the fighting channel, and even a few sports network guys, they were told to stand toe to toe. Craddock was going to keep his mouth shut and use all of his energy in the ring. Powell spoke to him, low and quiet. He knew he was the only one who could hear it.
“I heard you were a real dick to Cassidy. She was crying. I’m glad I was there for her like I always am.”
All of Craddock’s suspicions were laid out in those few words. Fucking fucker. Craddock clenched his fists tighter. He flashed on his Cassidy in Powell’s arms again. Flashes of Powell’s hands on Cassidy’s smooth cinnamon hair. It made him sick.
“I’d have your daddy pray real hard for you, Zeke. I’m going to kill you.”
“God bless you.” Powell was cool as can be. Son of a bitch. That’s what it came down to.
Could fire beat ice?
Cassidy
She’d gotten the news she wanted. Wayne U had awarded her the grant, but she’d been late for Craddock, just a tiny bit late, and he’d ripped her head off.
She didn’t really know where she stood with him anymore. She knew being with him were the best moments she’d had in her entire life, but he didn’t even know about the ups and downs of the grant and what she’d been going through the last few days. She’d made the decision to keep it to herself, so it was partly her fault, but she resented the hell out of the way he’d been treating her.
She knew this was the most important tournament of his life. It was going exactly the way he’d envisioned it to go. He was in the finals, but she felt scared all the same, scared for them, scared for him.
Unfortunately, for Craddock to win, Zeke, her friend, would have to lose. Zeke, who had never given her anything but friendship and support, would have to be crushed tonight.
She loved Craddock. She could chalk up a lot of his erratic behavior to nerves in preparation for the big event. If she were selfish, she’d leave. But she wasn’t selfish. She was proud of Craddock, excited for him even. And in love with him, all of him — his temper and the other side that only she and Dylan got to see.
She pushed aside the hurt his meanness and temper had caused. She knew, after tonight, he’d be okay. They’d be okay.
Unless he lost and Zeke won. She didn’t know what losing looked like on Craddock and was afraid to find out.
She waited for the five final matches with Whitey, Sawyer, Larry, and the eliminated GWG fighters. It was a small group and they were of split loyalties, she knew. The only one at the GWG who didn’t like Zeke Powell was Craddock.
She got an education in sanctioned mixed martial arts fighting as the finals worked up through the weight classes. They’d started with the lightweights, who, despite being lightweights, were scary, she thought.
“Jesus, they’re fast,” Sawyer watched the fight next to her, head to toe in leather and the GWG patches.
She wondered if they all looked like him at the corporate offices. That’d be one tough looking corporate office, she thought.
The finals had all the trappings of the Fight Night event in Grand City, but more extreme. The cage was lit with a single spotlight. Each fighter had a big introduction and each walked through the crowd with a theme song and a light tracking them. It was electric and ferocious. She knew that as much as Craddock wanted that contract, so did each of the other fighters. The winner at each weight class would get an offer. The loser, as Craddock liked to say, would go home.
After getting through the first three weight classes it was time.
“At 191 pounds, standing six feet two inches tall, with an amateur record of 10 and 2, fighting out of the Great Wolves Gym, Zeke Powell, The Preacher’s Son!”
The arena filled with Zeke’s song, Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man.”. Cassidy smiled. She knew Zeke hated the song, but his mom and dad loved it.
“No one is afraid of my song,” he’d joked with her after the Fight Night, “but that’s okay. It keeps ‘em off guard.”
That wouldn’t work with Craddock. Everything about him was on guard.
“At 197 pounds, standing six feet three inches, with an amateur record of 16 and oh, undefeated, and also coming out of the Great Wolves Gym, Craddock Flynn!”
Craddock’s song, “The Engine Room” by Runrig, played. There were no words, just beating drums and a bagpipe that ushered him in. He still resisted a nickname. Cassidy wondered if that would change.
“Hey look, there’s Meyer Thompson, the league money man.” Sawyer pointed to a tall man standing still, close to the ring, and watching intently. While the crowd was cheering for Craddock or Zeke, Meyer Thompson stood still, arms crossed, and took every aspect of both men in.
The music stopped and the fighers met in the center of the ring. Cassidy felt like she might jump out of her skin from the pressure of the moment. The referee listed the rules, just as he’d done for the previous three fights that night, and Cassidy tried to gauge Craddock. He was intense and still. While Zeke bounced up and down and seemed to be staying loose, Craddock had a look of murder in his eyes.
It scared the hell out of her. There was no telling if it was having an impact on the son of a preacher man.
It started without preamble, just like she’d seen with the first three fights. Zeke Powell punched first and it landed on the cut Craddock had gotten yesterday.
“Will they stop it if he needs to get medical attention? A time out?” Cassidy asked Sawyer, who’d, thankfully, been her answer man the last two days.
“No, no blood time, no time out. They’ll fix it between rounds or they’ll stop the fight if Powell opens it up and makes it so Flynn can’t see.”
She nodded, unable to take her eyes off the action. The first round was a flurry. They both landed punches and kicks. Cassidy had no idea who was winning.
At one point, Zeke Powell shot in on Craddock and he want down hard on the mat. She knew that’s what Craddock was practicing with Jessie, takedown defense.
She watched as Craddock fought back up and out and the two crashed into the cage near where they were all sitting. By the end of the round, Craddock was bleeding from his cut eye and Zeke had a nasty gash on his lip that was swelling fast.
“Meyer Thompson is going to love this. They’re both going at it hard, not like that middleweight fight where they hugged it out for 12 minutes.”
Sawyer seemed to be loving it, too. If nothing else, GWG’s name was getting out as the place to train if you wanted a shot at the big leagues. Whitey was the only one who looked as distraught as she did. It was gut wrenching to watch two people who you knew try to rip each other apart.
Cassidy was wishing it was all over. She watched them use “The Kit” on Craddock to try to seal off his cut brow. She saw Zeke wince as even water hurt his mangled lip.
When round two started she said a prayer for Craddock Flynn. She realized that The Preachers Son, probably had an entire church praying for him.
Craddock
Punch, kick, block, take a shot. Craddock didn’t process thought like a normal person during a fight. All his training had him running on instinct. He didn’t stop and think about what would be a good thing to do next He just attacked and fended off his opponent. Then attack, attack, attack. If he kept moving, kept scrambling, kept hitting, things would happen for him.
He could tell that Zeke Powell was getting tired. His hands were lowering, his gaze was faltering, and every time Craddock threw a punch, feint or not, Zeke flinched and closed his eyes. Craddock was breaking him down. He felt the cracks in Zeke Powell’s game begin with the second round.
He didn’t hear the crowd yell his name, or chant The Preacher’s Son, but of course they were. He didn’t know the spectators were screaming and loving every raw second of the match. He only felt when his b
low landed on soft flesh and then stopped at hard bone. His senses were tuned to when it seemed Zeke was about to take his shot.
He’d gotten in trouble in the first round. Zeke was powerful on the ground, more than he’d realized. Zeke had dominated him on the mat. It was a dangerous position. If he got in that spot again, he could be in trouble. So he wouldn’t — he’d stay up, stay punching, and punch even if Zeke managed to take him down again.
Fuck, he did.
Zeke swiped out his legs and had him on the ground, he tried to work around him, but Craddock fought it off, stayed on his back, and wouldn’t let Zeke get a good hold on him. He struggled hard to separate Zeke’s hands and break his hold. Zeke knew Craddock was almost out, and if he was out, up and up meant more punching.
In his ear, louder than any of the screaming, Zeke, mush mouthed, yelled, “I’m going to take her away from you. I’ve already started. She belongs with me and she knows it.”
Craddock’s controlled raged found another gear. He was pissed off, blinded. He had Zeke in a headlock. The Preacher’s Son was at his mercy! Craddock kneed him as hard as he could; he always did everything as hard as he could.
Zeke went down in a heap, Craddock heard whistles blowing, and the screaming of the crowd that he had been blocking out, turned to deafening boos. What? It was a fight! Why?
The ref held him back. He tried to shake off the rage, the desire to keep punching. The ref said something about the head? What?
He looked over and there was Cassidy, running to the cage, crying.
“Zeke, Zeke wake up.” She was crying over Zeke. He staggered back to his corner and his guys started to make sense of it for him.
“What in the hell! You had him! Why did you knee him in the head? You know that’s illegal and fucking dangerous as hell! You may have killed Zeke.”
Whitey made his way over.
“You’re out of your mind Flynn, out of it.”
Craddock hadn’t thought about where he was striking after Zeke had taunted him. He was striking in rage and clearly it’d gone horribly wrong.
He looked over and Zeke Powell was out still. The Preacher was on his knees outside the cage, as was his wife and their traveling congregation.
Trainers were now hovering over Zeke. He couldn’t see what was going on.
The ref came to the mic.
“Craddock Flynn has been disqualified due to his use of an illegal knee to the head in ground position. Because Zeke Powell cannot continue this fight, the ruling is no decision in this fight.”
The crowd erupted. The boos were coming at him. His corner closed in on him and they struggled to get him out of the cage and out of the arena. He was sure popcorn, soda, and God knows what else hit him in the head on the way out. They were animals. But so was he.
The next few hours were a blur, but a few things stood out. He’d showered and then sat there, in the locker room as one by one key pieces of the life he’d so carefully tended unraveled.
Whitey told him he’d no longer be training in the gym he’d called home. Some dude in leather, Cassidy had said his name was Sawyer, showed up and let him know his GWG sponsorship was also gone.
“Tough break kid but you saw what happened out there. You lost your shot at the 21C and that’s what we sponsor.” So that was gone. He’d have no income.
Finally G-Man, who he’d vaguely remembered had the heavyweight fight right after his found him. “Listen, you’re public enemy number one, but I’m the golden boy.” G-Man’s shaved bullet of a head crinkled, trying to process the strange outcome of the night.
“Yeah? Have you heard how Powell’s doing?”
“Um, I was kind of busy kicking ass.”
“Did you win?”
“I did. And to celebrate we’re opening up the adjoining door of our two rooms and blowing it out. Party time.”
“G-Man, you’re going to want to come out here. Meyer Thompson is out here.”
“Okay, that’s my cue, see you in a few.”
The only person that didn’t come in was Cassidy Parker. He hadn’t expected her to.
Cassidy
“Shit!” Sawyer said.
She watched as Craddock’s knee landed directly on Zeke’s head, compressing it into his neck, his spine, and he crumpled like a rag doll. It was a sickening sight. She felt the taste of copper or blood in her own mouth.
“Zeke’s out. And your Craddock is fucked,” Sawyer said to her.
“What? Why? Explain.” The crowd, which had been screaming, was now deadly silent. The ring had been a flurry of limbs and blood and sweat, but was now crowded with medics.
“Craddock’s move was illegal as hell. He lost his mind.”
Cassidy pushed close to the cage, she saw Zeke lying on the mat, not moving, not responding as the trainers tried to wake him up.
“Zeke! Wake up Zeke.” She found herself yelling to him, gripping the chain link of the cage.
“They’re calling the fight.” Sawyer was behind her again, and as the crowd turned ugly, she lost sight of Craddock. The crowd had turned on him, but in that moment, all she could do was worry about Zeke. She watched his church pray for him. They were on their knees right there on the floor of the Cobo arena. She watched rows and rows of people do the same. It was like a reverse wave. Everyone seemed to be reaching out to The Preacher’s Son with the only thing they could, prayers. She, too, said a prayer that this sweet man would be okay.
She wondered if he would need a miracle as they put a neck brace on him and carefully loaded him on to a stretcher. No sign that he’d awaken from the blow to the head, or that he ever would. Suddenly the sport, the training, it all became clear to her just how frightening it really was. It was blood sport, life or death, win or go home.
As they carefully wheeled Zeke away, she knew she needed to get to Craddock. He didn’t want things to be this way. He couldn’t have.
She had to get to Craddock. After the shock of Zeke began to filter out, she realized Craddock’s dreams had just come crashing down with one blow — even if it was his own doing. She needed to find out why he’d done it. What was he thinking? She just wanted to help him.
She started to work her way out and towards the tunnel for the fighters.
“You know we still have G-Man?” Sawyer reminded her.
“Let me know how it ends.” She didn’t want anything, but to comfort Craddock. She knew he had to be devastated. She was afraid what she’d find, but she’d do what she could to soothe him. She knew she could.
When she got to the locker door, Whitey was there.
“Whitey, I need to get through.”
“Listen, Cassidy, I don’t have time for this. G-Man is fighting and I want to see it. Especially after this mess with Powell and Flynn. You stay out of that locker room. You hear me? I’m your boss. This an order. Do not mess with this right now.”
“What?”
“These boys are fighting over you, not the title, and you see where that leads. I won’t fire you. Just leave ‘em both alone would ya?” And Whitey turned and headed out to the ring where G-Man and his opponent were just about to start.
She didn’t care what Whitey said, he was wrong. This was not her fault. It wasn’t.
But maybe he was right on one point, she didn’t belong in the locker room, at all.
She texted Craddock. “Meet you at the hotel. I love you. It will be okay.” She decided to make herself useful for the GWG and earn the money Whitey paid her. He saw her doing what he asked. She kept checking her phone. No texts. No answer.
“Please let me know you’re there.” Another text. No answer.
She tried one more time, “Craddock?” No answer.
She barely got out to the arena when G-Man was done. It was less than ten minutes. She was relieved. She needed to finish this and get to Craddock. Figure it out.
She helped G-Man carry his stuff, introduced Sawyer to him, and even saw Meyer Thompson talking to Sawyer. Big things were going to happen f
or G-Man. Good for him. Not so good for Craddock. It was time to find him.
After what seemed like forever she headed back to the hotel. It was her responsibility to bring Craddock’s car. The details of everything seemed so overwhelming, they were weighing her down. She needed to collapse in their room and try to move through this night.
She heard the music before she even got into the room. It was loud, thumping, and it was clearly a party. A lot of the guys from the GWG were there. They’d opened up the adjoining room and it was spilling into her and Craddock’s room. Great.
“Parker! Let’s party! We need to blow off some steam,” said Darius Brown.
“Darius, Zeke Powell could be paralyzed and you’re whooping it up?”
“Wrong, we’re celebrating because we just got the word. He’s awake and wiggling his toes. That’s worth a round.”
“Sure is, scary shit today! But then, G-Man!!” Pete Flannigan leaned on her and yelled G-Man in her ear. She shook him off. She could not believe they were having a good time after all they’d been through in the last two hours.
She blew past the red Solo cups offered up in her direction and moved through the crowded room. MMA guys, hot chicks, hangers on, it wasn’t her scene at all, but she needed to find Craddock.
As she moved through the little throng she saw. She saw, but she didn’t believe it.
There was Craddock on the couch, a slutty blonde on the right and left of him. She took it in, but wished she hadn’t.
Craddock had one hand lazily on the thigh of blonde on the right. The blonde on the left was licking his neck. He had one of the red Solo cups in his other hand and looked up at her.
“Craddock.”
“Oh, Cassidy, hi. Did you want a piece? Sorry, you’re a little late.”
The two blondes laughed and one put a hand on Craddock’s hip and headed down.
“You whore!” Cassidy couldn’t believe it came from her mouth. Her throat was ragged and eyes hot with tears of rage.
She lunged at the bitch with her hand on Craddock’s groin and pulled her off. She punched the woman and threw her down. The other woman came at her and pulled her hair. The room erupted in hair, nails, muscle, red Solo cups, and yelling.
