I looked at him blankly, “What do I have to spend it on?”
“If you don’t dodge his right hook, new teeth for one.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.”
He nodded at me. “I’m sure you do, kid. I’m sure you do.”
He walked away and I started bouncing on my feet, loosening up my muscles. He would come back for me in about an hour, but he always left me to my own thoughts right before a fight. He knew I needed the time to myself to get out of my own head and into my opponent’s. I would take this guy down, just like all the others.
FOUR
BERKLEY
“So what time are these guys picking us up?” I asked as I changed my shirt and looked for a set of boots to wear.
“Actually, we’re meeting them there. I figured we could catch a cab to head downtown. No reason for us to drive, and I doubt that we’d find parking anyway. We’re meeting them outside to grab our tickets, and then we’ll go in together.”
I gave Naomi a look. “Some date. First I don’t even know this guy’s last name, and now you’re telling me he’s not even coming to pick me up. You sure know how to pick ‘em.”
She sighed. “Hey, I pick them for their good looks, not their brains.”
“Touché.”
We called a cab and arrived at the fight only an hour later. Naomi immediately recognized her date and waved the guys o
ver to us. She was right, Elliott was easy on the eyes. He was taller than both of us with darker skin, pale blue eyes, and black hair. His thick arms made me feel safe in an unknown place. Josh was on the leaner side, with light blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He had on a tight T-shirt and dark jeans, a little less preppy than I typically went for, but maybe that was exactly what I needed. He offered me my ticket but didn’t say much else besides introducing himself. I figured once he got a couple beers in him I would learn a lot more about what he was like.
As we made our way through the crowd, I felt like the walls were caving in. The place was packed, and it was hard to get to our seats. The guys grabbed us beers as we walked past something that resembled a concession stand, and we carried them as we made our way to our chairs. No one was sitting; everyone was out cheering and yelling for whatever fighters were currently in the ring. It was like a cage match. Chain-link fence coming up around the sides, I’d never seen anything like it except on television. The atmosphere was intoxicating, though. You could just feel the tension in the crowd waiting for the knockout. I watched as a guy with a bloodied eyebrow circled the man in front of him, lifting his knee up to kick him in the ribs. The guy dodged him, but just barely before landing a right hook on the first guy’s face. It didn’t take long after that for the guy who dodged the kick to have the other guy on the ground beating the shit out of him. I guessed it was over when the referee held up that guy’s hands. Some people yelled loudly, while others looked disappointed.
“I guess people bet on these things?” I said to Josh.
“Yep. I have money on the next guy coming up. Dillon Jackson, one of the best fighters in the state. Nobody can beat this guy. And hopefully I’ll make some money off of him tonight.”
“How do you know that he’s good to bet on? I mean it looks like these guys get hurt pretty easily.”
He took a swig out of his plastic cup. “Not Dillon. Guy had a shoulder injury a couple years ago. Wasn’t even supposed to be able to write, but somehow he managed to work through the pain and now is some big shot around here. People say he’s in the prime of his fighting career. He’s not going to get any better than he is now.”
I looked out into the cage and I saw two new fighters. They had announced them when Josh and I were talking. I wasn’t sure who they were, but by the look of intent on Josh’s face this was the fight that he was betting on.
“Which one is the fighter you were talking about? The one with the shoulder injury?”
He pointed to the guy on the right. An almost like the fighter had heard him he turned and looked in our direction. He was almost bald with a shaved head and piercing gray eyes. Half of his upper body was covered in tattoos, including some type of quote on his arm. His six pack was clearly defined and his arms were bigger than my head. He wasn’t an abnormally large guy, just built of pure muscle. When his eyes caught mine my heart stopped for a moment. There was something about him that was just so damn attractive that I couldn’t look away. I had gone from someone who had never been to a fight before, to a hard-core MMA luster.
Josh spoke again and pulled me out of my daydreaming. “The other guy’s Armando Garcia. He’s pretty good, probably will give Dillon run for his money. He breaks a lot of bones.”
I shook my head. “In his opponents?” Suddenly I was concerned for Dillon’s well-being.
“In anybody. He does underground fights too. It’s where gangs bet on each other’s best guys. Elliott and I stay the hell away from those places. If your bet is off, or if you don’t have the money, you could get yourself killed. We only go to legit fights. Those guys are way too intense. Not to mention, fighters get killed, regularly. I’m not into that kind of blood bath.”
I couldn’t imagine why some underground streetfighter was in a pro match. It didn’t make any sense to me, but I still didn’t know much. I watched with anxious tension as the fight began. I was hoping that Dillon would come out the victor. But it wasn’t because I wanted Josh to win his bet, but because I wanted to see Dillon succeed. Something about those eyes just drew me in, and I was hooked.
I watched Dillon duck a few punches before landing a blow to his opponent’s face. He bounced around on his heels, so quick on his feet he couldn’t be touched. The other guy wiped the blood from his lip and put his hands back up in fighting stance. He waited for Dillon to make another move. Dillon waited too, like a lion for his prey. When the other guy had enough he slowly advanced, only to be shut down when Dillon delivered a round house kick. The guy fell back, but was quickly back up on his feet. This back and forth went on for five minutes or more, but it felt like hours. Finally Dillon’s arm was in the air and the crowd was chanting his name. He had won. A final blow to the other guy’s face had landed him on the ground, and he wasn’t getting back up.
Dillon bounced around the cage a few more times. Forgetting I was on a date, I squeezed through the crowd to congratulate him. I just wanted to meet him, and maybe touch him. When I got to the front there was a throng of girls waiting for him. He signed a few autographs and wiped sweat from his head. He smiled at a few, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Finally he got to me.
“Great fight,” I said cheerfully.
He stopped and looked at me. “Thanks. What’s your name?”