Fight 2 (9 page)

Chapter 17

Eddie

When I hear her trainer tell her I’m no good for her, I immediately flash back to my father yelling at my mother. Nothing was ever good enough in our house. Nothing was ever up to his standards. Nothing I did, nothing my sister did, nothing my mother did. We were all just failures in his eyes.

I don’t want Red to be a failure. I want her to be a dreamer, an achiever. Maybe her trainer is right. Maybe I’m not good for her. I hadn’t seen her fight yet, but obviously her fighting has changed dramatically since I’ve been in the picture, so maybe I really am bad for her.

Thing is, I don’t really care. I still want her just as bad, if not more, than I did a few minutes ago. I want to be good for her, and if it takes my entire life trying, I will be good enough for her one day. I want her to see that I can be the best thing ever for her. I want her to know she doesn’t have to fight, because she will have me to go to. For anything.

I want to belong to her as much as she belongs to me.

Asking her to quit will be one way to show her that I’m all in. That I want all of her, and that she doesn’t have to fight. That’s what I thought, anyway. Now I’m still sitting on this fucking curb, breathing in this mother fucking dust of Texas, not knowing what the hell to do.

She didn’t break up with me, but she didn’t answer the way I would have liked. Hell, I need to get in there to watch the fight, because as screwed up my mind is right now, I still need her. I still care for her. I still want to see her safe.

I get up and wipe the dust from my pants as I walk back into the bar. The door downstairs is open, and I feel my heartbeat speed up as I approach it. Last time I walked into a fight I didn’t know what to expect until it hit me in the face. This time, I know what I should be expecting. There will be a lot of people. There will be loud noises. Lights will be illuminating the stage. Even knowing what to expect, though, I can’t bring my feet to carry me any closer to the door.

“Need some liquid courage, man?” I hear the bartender say to me.

Looking around I notice everyone in the bar has cleared out.

“They all went downstairs. Gonna be one hell of a fight tonight,” he says as he wipes the bar clean.

“What do you know about it?” I ask, moving closer to the bar.

He takes a scotch glass and pours me a shot. Nodding, I take it and let the liquid rush down my throat. Fighting through the burn, I set the glass down and look at him, waiting for an answer.

“All I know is the big one is going to beat the shit out of the tiny one. Rumor has it, there’s a few k on the line tonight for her to win. She ain’t goin down tonight, no matter what she has to do.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, dropping a ten on the bar, standing up, and preparing myself to walk downstairs.

“You’ll see. Some of us like to play by the rules, others don’t. You should get down there though, kid, they should be starting any minute now.” He nods towards the door, then walks away to clear a few more tables.

Taking a breath, I walk towards the door and start my descent down the stairs. The entire walk down there I fight back the flashbacks of our basement stairs that threaten me. By the time I get to the bottom I’m breathing so heavy I almost don’t notice the crowd. I walk to the back by the wall, as far away as I can get from the bright lights in the middle of the room. Looking around I see people filling every chair, people standing in the rows, up by the stage, back by the wall. There are people everywhere, and they’re all here to see my Red get beat down.

“Shit,” I say to myself as the realization that this is about to get very bad hits me.

“For real, man! This is gonna be epic!” A kid, who couldn’t be more than twenty, yells at me.

“Yea. Something like that,” I mutter as I start to walk around.

Watching the fight from the back isn’t going to help. I need to be closer to know she’s ok, and to be there for her when she’s not. Crap, I can’t think straight. She is willingly putting herself in a situation where she’s bound to get hurt, and she knows it!

“Dude, move!” I hear people yelling at me as I walk up to the fence that surrounds the stage.

It’s in an octagon shape, raised a few feet off of the floor, and the chain link runs around the entire perimeter of it. The floor is bright blue and wore in spots. The fencing goes all the way to the ceiling, and there is one doorway on the other side where the fighters can enter. I see her now, standing with her back to me. Good, she hasn’t seen me yet. She seemed pissed when she left, and I’d fucking love for her to channel that anger to beat this bitch’s face in.

Where did that thought come from? 

I walk to another spot where I know I won’t be easily seen since it’s in the dark, and steal a seat from someone who just got up. Leaning back in the chair, I cross my arms and prepare for the onslaught of flashbacks and fucking emotions I never knew I had until her. My leg is bouncing, and I’ve zoned out every noise around me. When the bell rings, I still, watching the woman I love. The woman I want to marry, spend the rest of my life with, dance around that damn octagon like she owns the place.

Hell, she said she was throwing the fight, but she looks insanely into it. She looks ready to pounce, but nothing has happened yet. Why hasn’t something happened yet? Don’t they normally start beating the shit out of each other right away? Isn’t that the basis of these things?

I see the taller chick swing first, but Red deflects it with grace I never knew possible while fighting. This is all a dance to her. It’s coordination, it’s talent, but it’s also choreographed. I bet she knows just what move is coming right before it comes. Shit, I’ve never thought of it this way. I watch her, over and over, deflect punches, jabs. Take kicks like a pro, absorbing the energy with her entire body. Shit, she’s really fucking good.

Before I know it, the bell for the first round signals and the fighters go back to their trainers. I didn’t see Red throw a single punch the entire time, which feels wrong. If she were fighting she should have been trying to take the other girl down, right? Jesus, I really don’t know much about this sport. It’s all so confusing.

There’s not much of a break and they are back at it, continuing their dance right where they left off. Red is tiny so she isn’t getting winded at all from the constant moving, but I can tell the bigger one is starting to get mad at the boring pace of the fight. I don’t even see it coming but suddenly she starts wailing on Red, harder than I’ve ever seen anyone get wailed on before.

Red’s arms are tucked in by her body, protecting her organs, and her head is tucked low. She’s not even trying to protect herself. She’s given up.

Shit.

Hopping up from my chair, I run as close to them as I can get without overstepping my boundaries. Yelling at her as loud as I can, I try to get her to fight back. She has to. She’s Red, she’s a fighter. That’s just who she is.

Something clicks as I yell for her. I don’t care that she fights. It’s her. It’s who I fell in love with. I’ll deal with her bruises, I’ll help her heal, but I don’t want her to quit anymore. If she wants to fight, that’s what I want for her.

“RED, JESUS, FUCKING FIGHT BACK!” I yell at the top of my lungs as the big one takes a break and backs up from Red, who obviously isn’t going down just yet.

Her eyes scan the crowd for the asshole that just screamed at her, and when her eyes connect with mine my breath stops. She’s already got bruises forming, one of her eyes is starting to swell, there’s a cut on her lip, and she’s drenched in sweat. When she sees me, though, she smiles the brightest fucking smile ever.

“I fucking love you baby, now go beat the shit out of that-”

Before I can finish getting the words out of my mouth, the big one is back on her, taking her down with a plow to her midsection. SHIT! I try and watch what’s happening, but the crowd is all standing up by now, cheering and yelling at the two fighters. 

Legs are flying, every now and then I see the big girl’s head pop up over the crowd, but I don’t see my red. Fucking shit, she better be okay. I feel rage building up inside of me. A rage to protect, a rage for revenge. Rage I’ve never felt before. The crowd goes silent suddenly and I look around at everyone’s faces. Just a few seconds ago they were poised for a fight, yelling on the big one, screaming for her to ‘demolish the tiny one’. Now no one is moving, no one is talking, not even a whisper. What the hell happened?

Pushing my way over to the side of the stage that the girls were last on, it takes me a few moments to get through enough people to clear an opening. Once I do, there are about four or five more people on stage than before, Red is nowhere to be seen, and they are all hovering over a figure lying on the floor of the stage. Frantically, I search the body for signs that it’s my Red, but there are no tattoos, the legs are the wrong shape, and the glove covering the one hand I see isn’t Red’s glove.

Shit, she did it. But where the hell is she, now?

As soon as I start searching for her I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. That’s probably her, she’s more than likely outside, and now I get to find her and tell her just how fucking awesome she is. Then I’ll give her the ring.

It’s not her, though. It’s my landlord. At damn near close to midnight. He leaves me a voicemail, and I wait to check it until I’m outside where it’s quiet.

Dialing up my voicemail, I put in my pass-code and hold the phone to my ear, just to pull it away again a few seconds later, completely in shock.

Shit, I need to find Red
.

Chapter 18

Gwynn

I broke her fucking leg.

Stupid bitch will learn not to fuck with me again.

Something snapped when I saw him there, rooting me on, giving me the exact encouragement I needed to stop her from killing me. She was on a path to kill, too. She attacked so hard it was all I could do just to stay standing. When she took me down in front of him I lost it. I’ve never lost my mind in a fight, but there’s a first time for everything.

Now I sit here in my car, after cussing out mac and punching him in the face, waiting for something to happen. I’m most definitely coming down from an insane high, my hands are still shaking, my breath is shaking, and I don’t really think I’m good to drive yet. So I sit here, in my dark car, in a dark parking lot. Probably not the safest of places to sit, but I don’t care.

I was on the path to be beat down tonight, all because I am too stubborn to call a match before it even starts. That’s what I should have done. That’ was any sane fighter would have done, but I’m so jaded by all of this, I thought that calling it would make me look weak. Instead, I looked weak standing there, curled into a fucking ball, waiting for it to end.

Until he yelled at me.

When my eyes hit his, the pleading in them to fight back was evident. The love he feels for me was evident. And there was no trace of his earlier request anywhere to be seen. He no longer wanted me to give up, he wanted me to fight. So I did. When she started pulling hair, spitting in my face, squeezing onto my eyes, I knew she was planning on breaking every fucking rule, so I got to it first. I didn’t really break any rules, just a few of her leg bones.

I can see from only one eye the longer I sit here, and the other one is starting to swell pretty bad as well. I can’t drive home like this, and I left everything inside when I stormed out. The crowd hasn’t cleared enough yet to go get it, so all I can do is sit here and wait. Usually, when I’m beat in a fight, I get ice right away for the swelling. Now, there’s nothing cold around me and all I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Laying my seat back, I lock my doors and close my eyes.

I lay there in silence for what feels like hours. When the knock comes on the window I don’t open my eyes. I don’t move. Not until the knocks get louder and start to irritate my headache. I sigh and roll the window down.

“You alright in there?” I hear his voice but I still don’t open my eyes. I can’t, not really. I could try, but I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch until the swelling goes down.

“Well. I could use a ride home,” I say, and laugh at how horrible I look right now. At least how horrible I think I look, I bet it’s pretty bad.

I hear him nervously chuckle, then I unlock the door to let him open it. Every part of my body hurts and I don’t want to move but I know I have to. I get out as slowly as I can and stand. Opening my one good eye, I see him looking at me with so much sadness. Why is he sad? Why isn’t there a happy emotion there, I took that bitch down.

“Come on, let me carry you,” he whispers as he picks me up with ease. I don’t protest, and lay my head on his chest on the walk to his truck. Once we are there, he sets me down to get the door open, then lifts me up and even buckles me in. He’s being awfully nice to me, even though I was a total bitch to him last time we talked.

Once we get on the road it isn’t long before I fall asleep. Vaguely, I remember being carried inside and put in bed with a cold rag on my forehead. I feel his lips kiss me softly, then I drift off.

***

“Oh my God,” I moan as I attempt to move my body.

I’ve never been so sore after a fight, and I know it’s because I didn’t have the proper after care, but I couldn’t stay inside that building any longer. The swelling on my eye has gone down enough for me to open it, but I immediately regret doing so when I realize how bright the room is.

“Shit,” I curse, closing my eyes and curling back into the pillow.

The pillow that feels a hell of a lot softer than my pillow. The pillow that smells nicer, too.

“What the hell?”

“Hey, you’re up,” his voice is gentle and quiet, like he knows that I need silence right now.

“Yes,” I manage to whisper. “I’m up. Why am I not home?”

He doesn’t answer for a minute, then I hear him sigh.

“How are you feeling?” He sounds concerned, so I give him points for staying with me, and decide not to be a huge bitch to him.

“Like I was beat down by a woman four times my size. How do I look?”

He laughs at me, then his hand takes mine.

“Like you were beat down by a woman four times your size, and survived to tell the tale.” He says, then leans down and kisses my forehead.

I still don’t want to open my eyes, for fear of the light burning my retinas, so I lay there and listen for the sounds of his apartment.

It’s something I used to do as a kid when I couldn’t sleep. If I laid there with my eyes open, I would end up scaring myself that there were ghosts or monsters, but with my eyes closed it was all okay. I could listen for the clock ticking, for the floor creaking, for my mom and dad moving around downstairs. When we got older I would lay in bed and listen for my brother’s window to squeak, signaling him sneaking out for the night.

Laying here in this room, though, I don’t hear much. I can tell he has the TV on, but the volume insanely low. I can tell there’s coffee somewhere, which makes my stomach growl at the prospect of eating, but I don’t smell any food. I can tell that he just recently showered because of the smell of soap lingering near me, but I can’t tell anything else.

“Babe, can you close the curtains? I really want to open my eyes, but it just hurts so bad with all the light,” I ask.

“Sure thing. Hang tight.”

I hear him walking across the room to close the curtains, and as soon as I can tell they have been closed, I start to slowly open my eyes.

“Here, take this. We need to work on getting more of the swelling down,” he says, as he puts the rag with ice chunks in it up to my face.

Ice chunks? Why are there loose ice chunks, doesn’t this man own any ice packs? And I don’t remember seeing a TV in Eddie’s bedroom last time I was in here, why is there one in here now? If his room is anything like my room, it doesn’t get near as much light as the rest of the apartment does, so the room shouldn’t have been that bright.

“Eddie, where are we?” I ask hesitantly.

“Um... Shit babe. I want you to rest okay, we can figure everything else out once you are better.” He sighs and helps me with the ice when I start to drop the melting pieces.

That means it’s bad. Whatever it is, we aren’t at his apartment, we aren’t at my apartment, and something happened that is making him sound worried that I won’t be able to handle it before I’m better. Fuck that shit, I need to know what the hell is going on!

“Eddie, you need to tell me where we are,” I say, prying my eyes open, finding his hazel, tired, dull eyes staring back at me.

His eyes are so full of expression, so full of emotion. I don’t know what I expect to come out of his mouth, but I know it isn’t going to be good.

“Babe, we can’t go home. For a while,” he says gruffly.

“Why?” I’m not sure if I want to know the answer, but I know I need to.

He looks down, taking my hand in both of his, shaking his head.

“Fuck,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “There was a fire, Red.”