Ava took a deep breath and nodded.
“She’s not invincible, babes. Play it ferocious, play it tough, but play it smart. You have two hands, two feet and a heartbeat. You’ve got a chance, and dammit, that’s all the right person needs.”
In almost no time at all, a month had passed, and it was suddenly the eve of the fight. They had travelled to Vegas business class, which blew her mind. The staff on the plane were the friendliest she had ever encountered, making the flight a breeze.
They were staying at the same hotel the fight would be in, Le Grande, and her room was a premier suite almost as big as the gym she trained in. All the rich smells, sights and sounds were a marvel to her. But, at the same time, she anchored herself down. Something about this felt so fake. Ruben’s words to her still stuck. No one expected her to win.
Chris had been strangely quiet about this whole thing since they’d told him. He was as professional and as strict in his training as ever, but there was something different. He wasn’t as chirpy on her days off. She understood now what it meant when they said “fattening up for the kill”. Maybe this was in his mind, but he didn’t want to say anything.
Max Stanmore had been somewhat of a host, showing her and the boys around. Once they had found Ava’s suite, Max indicated that Ruben and Chris should follow him, leading them to the hall elevator, and Ava asked where the boys were going.
“They’ve got rooms on the next level down.”
“Why wouldn’t we just all stay together?” Ava asked.
“Well... out of respect. Obviously no one asked your preferences. I apologise. I think the accommodations people just assumed. Three people, three rooms. I mean, a lady and two gentlemen staying in a hotel room... Things could get messy, and the division is in enough trouble as it is.”
“I’m a lesbian and they’re a couple. We live together. We skinny dip, walk around and sunbake naked all the time. Nothing really to worry about there.”
“Oh, I see. Well still, most fighters don’t stay in the same rooms as their crew. Hell, even your fellow Aussie Owen Gasnier doesn’t. Though that’s by his father’s request.”
“Well, I’m not Owen Gasnier,” Ava said with a smile. “I’d prefer to not be alone in a huge hotel room that sleeps six people. If that’s OK?”
“Sure,” Max replied, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “As you wish. I’ll see you at the fight.”
“Fight? You’re not coming to the weigh-in?” Chris asked.
“Oh... that’s right,” Max said, clicking his fingers. “The weigh-in has been cancelled. We’re going straight to the fight.”
“You’re having a fight, without a weigh-in?” Ruben asked.
“Well look guys, I’m going to level with you. Interest in this fight is very low. From media to public. Almost no money has been placed on this fight as it’s, with all due respect, considered a forgone conclusion. We have a full card, but the arena is only half full and most of those were free tickets. It isn’t a good look for Veronica to be seen at a weigh-in with only a handful of people. We will still have one, just privately. Ticking all the appropriate pre-fight boxes. It’s just one of those things. There isn’t any buzz for this at all. We tried a marketing ploy and it didn’t come off. I spoke to Veronica earlier, and she’s still one hundred percent looking forward to the challenge. Good luck, kiddo. See you after the match.” Max headed out and left them alone.
“Well, so much for genuine support, huh?” Ava asked.
“It’s not his fault. They even said the division was in trouble but no one really spoke about it. Two fighters down in the space of twenty four hours. Nash is the last of a dying breed. Champions considered too good for their sport. She’s won so much that now she’s become boring. There is no contest anymore. No thrill. She’s just expected to win. That’s why that Gasnier and Diaz title match is getting so much attention. It’s syphoning the interest away from here. But, anyway, fuck that. We focus on what we can control. You and your job,” Ruben replied.
Ava listened to Ruben long into the night, until he had almost talked himself asleep. Chris still barely said a word, content to sit at the desk near the window writing down his notes and performing his usual pre-fight checklist of his kit.
The boys eventually crashed but Ava stayed up, looking out onto the strip from the balcony. Sleep seemed impossible. She moved her eyes from tree to tree, window to window, and finally to the digital signage board where her name flashed briefly underneath Nash’s followed by the date of their fight. And yet almost the very next screen was a montage of Owen Gasnier and Brent Diaz highlights with super cool whizzbang graphics, showing which hotels were streaming it live. The fight was months away and yet THAT was how promotion should be done. She didn’t know anything about the ins and outs of the promotions game, but something felt off about the whole thing. She truly was given no chance by anyone except her team.
She felt even Veronica was being disrespected. Too good for her own good? So dominating she was boring now? Ava couldn’t agree with that for a second. She was stepping into the ring with the best there was. Even if there was no chance of winning, no, especially if there was no chance of winning, she would walk in with her head high and do the best she could. Whatever happened, she would know whether she belonged in the ring with the best.
13
“Nash To FaceComplete Greenhorn In Exhibition (or farce?)” —MMA Today Blog post
“Women’s Division New Standard or New Low?” —Fighter Daily Website
“Veronica Nash Fight tickets 75% off! Plenty of Great Seats available!” —Booking website
Ava “The Animal” Beckinsale v “The Nuke” Veronica Nash
The ceramic toilet bowl offered no comfort to her predicament. Ava heaved as her gloved hands gripped the edge, and her stomach curled in as its contents escaped her. She finally had nothing left to retch and sat with her back to the bathroom wall, her shaking hands covering her face, wracked with sobs. She had gone past being scared and wondered if she now ventured into catatonically petrified. But, even through her crying, she could hear Chris arguing with an official outside the door, trying to stall for time.
“It’s her time of the month! You wanna go in and tell her to hurry up because you’re being inconvenienced by a couple of minutes? You go right ahead. But I sure as shit ain’t gonna protect you from her.”
“You’ve gone into your emergency time. Any more delays and you risk a fine under the contract you signed.”