Chapter 37
Red
Fifteen Months Later
“Watch your form,” Coach reminded me as we circled around the ring together. “Your footwork’s nice and tight, but I’m still concerned about your stamina. Am I going to have to add another mile to your morning runs to build up endurance?”
Cash groaned from where he was working on the speed bag. “I don’t wanna!”
Dylan huffed. “I was only suggesting it for Red, but now I’m going to add a half a mile to your run just for complaining.”
“Aww,Dyl. Come on, man. When did you become such a hardass?”
I snorted. “He’s always been this way, you’re just a crybaby.”
Cash slammed his fist against the bag, the sound exploding across the tall ceiling of Old Marty’s gym. “Who’re you calling a crybaby? I distinctly remembersomeonebawling their eyes out when Asher was born.”
“I’m not ashamed. Those were tears of joy.”
Dylan bopped me on the top of my head with one of his training paddles. “Less talk, more punching.”
“It’s nice to know that some things don’t ever change.”
The three of us turned toward the door in time to see Patrick waltz in. He was as prim and proper as always, dressed in his expensive suit and fancy leather shoes. His hair was really starting to go grey now, and I had to wonder if it was in part due to the stress of having Cash and myself as his clients. Patrick stood out like a sore thumb in Sunville, far too business-like and uptight to be mistaken for a local.
“This is a surprise!” Cash exclaimed, walking over. Even though he’d made a full recovery and had full use of his knee again, he still wore his brace as a precaution during training. Cash clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “What brings you to our little corner of Utah? Did you get lost? Take a wrong turn?”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “I never get lost.”
I hopped down from the ring, slipping out between the ropes. “What’s up? You got news for us?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I know you like to deliver good news in person.”
“Am I really so predictable?”
Cash sighed. “Come on, man. The suspense is killing me.”
Patrick smirked. “You’re in, boys. It took me a couple of months and alotof phone calls, but you’re both looking at a seven-fight deal.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely keeping it together.
“When have you ever known me to joke around?”
Cash threw his hands up in the air. “This is fucking awesome! What’s the payout?”
“I landed the two of you a mid-tier contract. We’re talking about six hundred thousand per fight. They really wanted to lowball me, but I stuck to my guns. Depending on your performance, I’ll be able to negotiate for more, later on in the season.”
“And what about the title?
“You’re on track to making it on the roster,” Patrick said with a confident puff of his chest. “If everything goes according to plan, you’ll both be in the running for UFC champion in both the lightweight and heavyweight divisions, respectively.”
I clapped Dylan on the back. “And it’s all thanks to you.”
Dylan shook his head. “Stop it. I didn’t do anything.”
Cash laughed. “Oh, please. If it weren’t for you taking up the brunt of our funding, we never would have been able to afford getting back onto the circuit. Nobody was willing to sponsor us, but you stepped up and paid for everything out of your own pocket.”