Scrapper: MMA Badboy Romance

by Chloe Ellison

  “Or showered?” I asked, grinning.

  “Hey now! The place is a mess, but I still shower.” he sniff tested his arm pits, and gave me the thumbs up with a stupid face. Same old goofball. It had been so long I didn’t know where to start. I was nervous, a bit off.

  “Angela, I have really missed you. I know I was a dickhead when you came to visit me, and I’m sorry. But-”

  “Cage.” I cut him off, and laid my finger over his lips. “Hush. It’s okay.” I wasn’t ready to tell him I had his baby, to apologize for my own transgressions. That time would come, but I had to enjoy the brief gap where he didn’t know. Where things could be how they were before the whole mess of court and jail and pregnancy. “It’s okay.” I said it again, and moved my attention back to the view. “I love it.” I said, looking out at the trees.

  “I know. That’s why I picked this lot to build the cabin on.” he said. Nine months worth of tension lingered between us, and I decided to take Cage up on his offer.

  “Think I’ll have that beer.” I said.

  “My girl!” Cage sprang to his feet, and disappeared inside. When the door closed behind him, I exhaled, and laid my forehead in my hands. I thought I was ready, but maybe not. It was a lot, and more than I had anticipated. Seeing him in real life. The sweaty palms and instantly feeling horny. Telling him about Zoey was one thing, dealing with my own feelings rushing back was another. Cage was the same man I had fallen for, and we belonged together. The realization hit me and there was no more running away. Seeing him, smelling him, hearing him chuckle. What had convinced me that I would be anything more than powerless against my feelings? He returned.

  “Thanks.” I said, studying his face. He took his seat after handing me a silver can.

  “Of course. How have you been Angela? How is the journalism thing going?” Cage asked.

  “Great, actually. I’m full time now, making more money than I ever thought I would.”

  “Right on!” Cage's smile flashed from behind the enormous beard. Still sexy as fuck. He held up his can for another toast. “Congratulations babe.” our eyes locked. I don’t think he meant to call me that.

  “Thanks.” I felt shy, and clutched my beer. The silence wasn’t awkward with him, and didn’t need to be stuffed full of pointless filler. We sat on the back porch like an old couple, staring out into the trees and sipping our beers. Cage laid his hand down on my armrest, palm up. My hand moved to his automatically, and our fingers laced. A brief moment of eye contact, and we were back to watching the world go by. My heart fluttered, but it wasn’t sexual. Two souls enjoying a moment together, nothing more.

  I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up. The wind moved through the leaves and made them dance, the light of the peak sun beating down on it all. I wanted to ask Cage why he wasn’t fighting, ask him about jail, tell him about Zoey, kiss him, fuck him, and scream at him for not reaching out when it was so obvious I had only been in denial. Even to myself. Instead we sipped from our cans in silence, hands together.

  My entire body seized when I saw the animal enter my peripherals.

  “There you are boy!” Cage stood up, hands on his knees, and bounced around in front of the mutt that had wandered up onto the porch. A dirty, playful, mutt pup. There was a tye dye bandana tied loose around his neck, and he approached me with caution, sniffing at my feet.

  “Awh, he’s yours?” I asked.

  “Yep. That’s Ziggy.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Zoey and Ziggy.

  “How long have you had him?”

  “A week.” he said. “Bought him the day I got out. Don’t remember it actually, I was drunk. Woke up with him at my hotel. Been best friends ever since.”

  “And you just let him run around?” Ziggy had already accepted me, and the scratches I gave around his ears. Dogs can purr too.

  “Yeah. Mostly stays here though.” Ziggy chose that moment to plop down hard on the floor, exhausted. He scooted over close to Cage’s chair, and closed his eyes.

  “So you really aren’t taking any more fights?” I asked.

  “No, gonna retire. Haven’t told coach yet, been up here re charging.”

  “So I heard. Looks more like binge eating and drinking than re charging.” I said, unable to resist making a joke about the pizza box and beer can mess. Cage laughed, and added another to the collection.

  “So you talked to coach?” Cage stood up to get another brew.

  “Journalists don’t reveal their sources.” I said. He returned with two cans in each hand. “Why don’t you want to fight anymore?” I asked, still unclear as to why he was walking away from the sport he loved, and guaranteed millions.

  “I had a lot of time to think in there, to prioritize things and ask myself hard questions. Like what is really important, Why was I doing some of the dumb shit I was doing? I need to take care of my family, the guys, help them accomplish their goals. When I think about myself fighting, I feel no motivation. I already won the title and proved myself in there, that’s it. I have some money left over. As skilled as I am, I can’t do it without that edge, that killer instinct. If I go through the motions in there, I’ll get put away. I’m not doing it.”

  “What are you gonna do instead?” I asked.

  “Not a fuckin’ clue.”

  He seemed to have really thought it through.

  “So you went to jail, decided you need to take care of your family, got out, and you aren’t motivated to fight anymore? I don’t think I understand?”

  “Okay. No one said you had to understand. I don’t feel like fighting anymore so I’m not going to. Fuck it.”

  “Right, but you have trained for so long. I don’t think you should retire permanently because you aren’t motivated and would rather drinks beers all day. You said yourself how much that money allows you to do for other people.”

  “Thank you Angela. I will take your opinion into consideration.” he could make the most polite statement fill me with rage.

  “Cage Edwards turns down mega million dollar fight with Jet Westerson. Would rather drink six pack with dog alone instead.” I said, spelling out the big headline.

  “Oh can it, Jesus Fucking Christ. Those ass holes took my license, and suspended me indefinitely. I didn’t turn down shit.” he said, deflecting the blame from himself. I knew I was inciting him, and what he said was technically true, but I still didn’t like hearing him give up.

  “You know you can get re instated like nothing. Show up to their little hearing, pay a fine, and then fight.” I said. It was roughly that simple.

  “How about this instead? They can all line up, get down on their knees, and suck my fat dick.”

  “Can I quote you on that?” I asked. He could be exhausting. “Let me show you something.” I said, getting on my phone. There was a video that he needed to see.

  “What?” I turned my phone to the side and put the video on full screen.

  “Just watch.” it was a video taken from the MMA Sandstorm show. An interview with the middleweight champion of the world, Jet Westerson.

  “This guy.” Cage said, rolling his eyes.

  “Listen.” I said, turning up the volume.

  “Look Jet, you went out there and earned that title the old fashioned way. No one can say any different, but Cage Edwards never lost. What do you say to those who still call him the champion?” asked Kenny Kocol, the host. Jet seemed appalled by the question.

  “He never lost? Cage Edwards? Are we talking about the same guy?” he asked, looking around, characteristically expressive.

  “Yes. Cage Edwards. His last fight was the brutal knockout win over Armenin.” Kocol said, clarifying.

  “I think I know the guy.” he said. “But you are saying he never lost, and you know I like you Kenny, but I have to call you out on that one. To say Cage Edwards never lost is a bit off base, don’t you think? How exactly can one be the biggest loser in MMA, and still have never lost? Can you explain?” Jet spoke with a straight face, the sa
me pro wrestling persona he used to get people interested in his grinding style of fights. Kenny ate it up, and laughed at everything Jet said.

  Kenny continued to ask him about Cage, perhaps sensing there were more sound bites waiting for him.

  “Champ to chump, the Cage Edwards story. It’s not as sad when you play it in reverse.” Jet said, always taking time to look straight into the camera. His lines were rehearsed, and he was fluid in their delivery. “I’d snap his arm or take his neck. No preference.”

  Kenny Kocol was a moron, and egged him on in typical douchebro style.

  “What do you think about his skills?” he asked, eyes wide. He was there for two reasons, to stick his nose up Jet’s ass, and get a headline.

  “The game has really evolved past him here in the last six months or so, with him being locked up and all.” Jet couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the situation, or from rubbing his belt.

  “You take that thing around with you everywhere?” Kenny asked.

  “Oh yeah, she’s my baby. I bring her into restaurants, everything.” he said, proud of the shiny belt in front of him. Before he wrapped things up, he took a moment to clear himself of any misinterpretations. He was a good guy after all. “I made some jokes, but really it’s sad. A kid like that, with all his talent and no head on his shoulders. He needed guidance. You can’t be out busting beer bottles in people’s face, or attacking police officers. It’s unacceptable. The sport has no place for him, and I agree with the suspension. Of course, I’d take the easy payday if he ever came near my cage again, but that goes for everyone. At the same time, a part of me, the human part, wants to see him do well from here on out. In life. Forget about fighting, I mean in life.” Jet put on his thoughtful face, and hammed it up. He saw the world in followers, likes, and dollar signs.

  “Thanks champ. TFC world middleweight title holder, Jet Westerson everybody. Always a pleasure man.” Kenny said, blinded by man love.

  “You too Kenny.”

  “That guy's a class act, a real ambassador for the sport.” Kenny said. I clicked off of the video, and looked over at Cage. He was stunned, open jawed, and silent.

  “Ba ha ha!” he burst out, gripping his sides. The laughter was genuine, he wasn’t upset about anything Jet had said. “Oh!” he continued laughing, but came under control. “Thank you Angela. Thank you.” he thought I showed it to him strictly to laugh at. “He needs me. That’s really sad. I had no idea things had gotten so rough since I left.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. It wasn’t the response I anticipated. “How does he need you?”

  “How many big money fights have taken place in the middleweight division since I left? Fights that really sold pay per views? Have any beat my last two fights?” he asked. I knew the answer well. Jet Westerson had a little bit of pulling power due to his ability to talk, but no one brought fan interest the way Cage did. “The desert is drying up, and he knows I’m the big fight. Fuck that. I’ll let it dry.” he was right about being the biggest money fight available, but there would always be other guys to fight.

  “So you really aren’t even going to consider taking another fight?” I asked. I knew I was being repetitive, but it was the last thing I would ever have expected him to tell me.

  “Never say never. But probably never.” he said. The beers were piling up, proof he may have meant it. “There’s actually something I need to talk to you about.” they were the words I needed to say, leaving his mouth instead of mine.

  “Okay.”

  “First off, I need to say I’m sorry about when you visited me. Not a lot of people came to see me, and I acted like an ass. I left you that message already, and the letters, but I wanted to tell you in person.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. When he said message, I remembered deleting it. The letters rang no bells at all.

  “Letters?” I asked, confused. I never got any letters from him, and would sure have appreciated it if I did. Pregnancy had at times been very lonely for me.

  “Yeah, I sent em to the post office. I told you in the message.” he said.

  “I deleted it.” and the truth revealed itself. “I was mad.”

  “Of course you were.” he threw up his hands. “So you never got them?” he couldn’t believe it. “I wondered why I never heard from you again.”

  “Don’t put it all on me. You are the one who fucked up.” these were all issues that had been simmering under the surface for some time. “You didn’t even tell me you going away was a possibility, let alone for nine months!”

  “I didn’t know. I thought I’d get a plea deal. Pay a fine, go home.” he said.

  “You should have known. It’s your life, and it was a big deal.”

  “Thanks Angela, really.” he ran his fingers through his hair, and took a breath. “I sent you letters, you didn’t get em. Whatever. I’m sorry okay, I was really into you. I still am. I didn’t want any of this shit to happen, it was one quick thing that lead to nine months worth of consequences.” my heart nearly stopped hearing him say that. I knew exactly how he felt on that one. “There’s something about you. It doesn’t even really make sense why I like you so much. Because I’m Cage, and you’re Angela. I saw you, and I just knew. I had nine months to sit and think, to reset and recharge. If what I felt about you wasn’t real, it would have went away. It hasn’t, it’s grown stronger.” he said everything I needed to hear, and my ears burned red.

  “Cage.” I stared back at him. It wasn’t only me, I wasn’t insane. “There’s something I have to tell you too.” I said.

  “Just tell me you’ll be with me. That you won’t make me feel the way I have to feel when I’m not around you. When I don’t know where you are.” his eyes filled with pain. We stood face to face, and my mouth gaped open. It was the most perfect thing that anyone had ever said to me.

  “I had a baby. Her name is Zoey and she’s yours.” the words left my mouth as if they weren’t my own. Of course though, they were. Cage was close enough to kiss me. He sat down instead. I expected anger, the typical Cage Edwards rage response. He buried his face in his forearms, and fell silent. “Cage?” I sat down, weary, and slowly laid my arm across his back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. That’s why I’m here.” I started to explain. Cage sat up straight, with tears in his eyes.

  “That was my mom’s name.” he said. “Zoey.” A tear streamed down his cheek, he let it fall.

  “Cage.” I covered my mouth. When he told me the story, I hadn’t thought to ask her name. It was a coincidence, the type that makes you wonder. “I think that’s a good sign.” I said. He nodded, and wiped his eyes.

  “You should have told me. That’s fucked up.”

  “I know.”

  “But it’s all good, for real. I don’t need anymore bullshit or baggage. If I have a little baby girl, I need to meet her. Now. And start making up for lost time.” there was nothing in his voice that indicated he was mad.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Cage smiled, eyes still glassy and red.

  “I have a daughter. Show me.” he said. I was amazed at how he handled it, and relieved. My hands were shaking, and my eyes welled up with tears so bad I couldn’t see my screen.

  “Here.” I handed it over to Cage, and broke down. Such a huge build up in my head and it was over. He knew.

  “She’s gorgeous.” he was in awe, and flipped over and over through the photos in my phone. Warm tears streamed from my eyes, and I went to the bathroom to blow my nose while he stared at his daughter for the first time.

  When I returned, he asked the question I was waiting to hear.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he wasn’t mad when he asked, only sincere.

  “I was scared. The day I found out I was pregnant was the day they announced your second set of charges. I freaked out, didn’t tell anyone you were the father.”

  “Including me.” he said.

  “I thought it was in her best interest, and mine. I was lonely and hormonal
, and you seemed like a crazy person after you flipped off the judge. I saw the video of you hurting that guard, what was I supposed to think?” I asked. Cage was frowning, and I felt terrible.

  “I understand. I was out of control, and had to learn a little about consequences. But I’m not insane or anything.” he said. I smirked, unsure if I should believe him.

  “That’s what an insane person would say.”

  “Come here.” he grabbed hold of me, and pulled me into his kiss. His bushy beard tickled my lips and nose, and I giggled through locked lips. Within seconds my legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was carrying me inside to his bed. “We’ve got a lot of fucking to make up for.” he said, and tossed me down.

  “I’ve missed you so much.” I said. We couldn’t rip off our clothes fast enough, and attacking each other relentlessly was freeing. It was the only way I could show him everything, all the feelings, longing, the need.

  “Your taste.” he grunted, kissing me and holding my face. His beard was something new, and he was built different. Thicker. Our bodies grinded together in the middle, his hard dick searching for my opening. His hands were busy with my breasts, but the tip found my wetness. “Baby.” he pressed it inside.

  “Ugh!” I arched, being stretched to take him. “Cage.”

  “Angela.”

  He filled me up, and spread around my wetness. After a few thrusts, I was impaled. His bare flesh inside me after such a long absence.

  “Harder.” I pleaded, whimpering. I straddled the line between pleasure and pain, and held on for life as he rocked me back and forth in rhythm. “Ugh, ahh.” my nerves tingled in waves, and my fingernails dug into his shoulders as pure reflex.

  “Look at me.” he said, resting his nose on mine. “You’re mine.” he said, a statement of fact.

  “Yes.” I nodded, “yours.”

  “My Angela.” he looked directly into my eyes, a possessive hunger. “So tight and wet for me.” the taste of his lips on mine was driving his hips. The harder I kissed, the harder he fucked.

  “Mmm.” I moaned, wanting more. I was drenched, and he was loving it.