“People might not like me and that’s fine. But you know what really boggles my mind? How this guy is seen as the good guy. He heads back to Sydney, ploughing sluts and he’s the role model? We are both killers, but I’m the one that keeps getting reminded about it...”
Owen crunched the bottle in his hand, splitting it and flooding the table with water as Fiona whipped her hand out of his grasp and leaned forward to her microphone. “I got a question for you. When they inject you with that stuff they give to racehorses, do you pick your favourite breed beforehand? Or is it, like, a potluck?”
Diaz’ eyebrows disappeared under the top rim of his glasses, frowning. “What?”
“Oh,” Fiona said, tapping her head. “I forgot. Are you only programmed to understand giddy-up? Or do you need a riding crop across your arse to get you to comprehend anything?”
Diaz looked left and right. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“The only joke is the fact that title isn’t with its rightful owner,” Fiona replied. “But you’re a good sport, son, keeping it warm for us.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Diaz spat.
“Don’t you remember me? I was the receptionist at the clinic that day you came in about your penis enlargement. I filled out your refund.”
Diaz shook his head and waved his hand. “Whatever, shithead. I’m surprised they let you in the building. Has anyone checked if she should even be here? Shouldn’t you be serving popcorn in the aisles? Or can’t Gasnier find someone better to paint his toenails, now his old man’s backs gone out?”
“Big talk for someone who couldn’t find a g-spot with a wetsuit, a map and a diver’s helmet...”
Even Owen had to suppress a laugh, something most in the room didn’t do. Chuckles flowed for several seconds.
The MC cut through to call for last questions and chose a hand near the front. “This question is for both of you. Heading into this match, what are your final thoughts on the other?”
Diaz grabbed the microphone quickly. “Gutless pretender. Even his home crowd has turned on him. His lack of a ground game is a disgrace to the sport, and it’s gonna be a pleasure to show the world he doesn’t belong in the Cage, let alone in a championship match.”
The press clicked their cameras and wrote their notes, but the question was then directed to Owen. This time, Fiona didn’t hesitate. She’d found her groove. “The only disgrace is that right now that title is empty. It holds no meaning. We look forward to washing the filth away from the belt after proving he was the load his mother should’ve swallowed.”
Owen dodged and swatted away a water bottle thrown from down the table by Diaz, aimed for Fiona. Every occupant at the table rose at once. Robert threw his own bottle back and it grazed Diaz’ head. The MC couldn’t even get out of the way fast enough as both Diaz and Fiona rushed at each other. Diaz’ manager and two other security personal held him back, seething and struggling while Owen held a frantic and writhing Fiona at bay, trying to claw Diaz’ face off.
“I got ya fuckin’ load right here, cunt! Fuckin’ bend over, and we’ll see where ya get it!” Diaz yelled.
“Take me out to the paddock and show me all your exes first, you pill poppin’, thimble dicked, overgrown marshmallow!” she screeched.
Diaz struggled harder and held out the belt. The men holding him were actually losing ground. “Look, shiny, shiny! No meaning? You want it? Come and take it, mole!”
“The real champ is here!” Fiona yelled, pointing to Owen. “Countdown is on you hunka-hunka roid raging, bitch! Tick-tock, mother fucker, tick-tock!”
Owen carried Fiona, still screaming obscenities and screeching, off the stage and around the corner. Instantly she stopped screeching. “Gaz, as nice as it is to have your hands so close to my arse, can ya put me down, please?”
Owen set her down on her feet and she thanked him, letting out a sigh as she re-adjusted her hair before putting her TG hat back on.
“That whole thing was... an act?” Owen asked.
“Duh...” Fiona rolled her eyes. “Why would I give you shit for taking his bait if I was going to do the same thing? No, my friend, that was all to get him revved up. And it worked. We pegged him back a little.”
“I just hope we haven’t made a mistake,” Robert said, checking through the curtains. “I’ve never seen him that pissed off. You know he will come back with something more on fight night. We have to be prepared.”
“We have to train.” Fiona said.
21
“What is this supposed to be?”Owen asked, staring out onto the great expanse of Bondi Beach.
“Special training,” Fiona replied, parking the car and getting out. Wasting no time in stripping to her bikini, she indicated for Owen to do the same. She pulled out the pads and walked just ahead of him across the small car park and walkway towards the hot sand. The beach was populated but not packed yet, as per usual this early on a Saturday. Fiona found a generous space for them to work with.
“OK. Warm ups. Let’s go.”
Owen looked left to right. “Did you want to find a less busy part of the beach?”