Sucker for Payne Read online

  I rolled my eyes, not meaning to be disrespectful, but I’d made a hell of a lot more than one.

  He stood at the same time I did, knowing I was leaving. “It was a mistake that will affect you for the rest of your life, but there are ways to deal with tragedies, while still living a life worth living. Don’t quit. Don’t give up on your life like that. There is a reason you’re still here. Don’t waste it. I mean it. You have potential, Conner. Even if you don’t want to do this forever, fighting is an outlet for you, and you’re good at it. Do something with the opportunity.”

  I huffed a breath. “I’ll think about it.”

  Steele nodded in victory and slapped my shoulder on his way toward the back of the room.

  ***

  Four weeks later, I entered the cage for the first time. Overcome with an emotion I still couldn’t pin down, I felt like I was soaring with every punch landed. My insides rolled, exhilaration oozed from my pores. It was as if my body had duplicated, one hovered above, floating, while the other, feet firmly planted on the ground, physically endured the fight. It was a complete out-of-body experience.

  I’d sparred with Steele multiple times in the past, but nothing compared to going all out in a bout. I found release in it. My body relaxed, even though I was tense. My mind calmed, almost to the point where I wasn’t thinking at all. I’d never experienced anything like it before. Once I found a flow, a passion developed for the sport—for something other than drowning my sorrows, or longing to feel numb. It was something I could put all my energy into. Something positive for a change.

  I spat blood onto the mat, then licked my sticky lips. The initial shock energized me. Warmth flowed through my body, as tingles shot from the top of my head, down to my bare feet. I stood still, allowing the adrenaline to seep through my veins like a junkie in an alleyway. In the middle of letting someone knock my insides around, I was at my calmest. Tranquil, despite the intense concentration I had on my opponent.

  I grinned at Kramer’s dumbfounded expression, and the split skin stung. The pain—an agony that demanded to be felt. Every punch, every kick, every bruise, only added to the euphoria I had.

  I’d initially been in the mood to go a few rounds with Kramer, but the longer I had to look at his face, the more he pissed me off. I lurched forward, giving him the full-fledged power of my Superman punch. I hadn’t trained much for the fight, knowing I could make him tap within the first three minutes if I’d wanted to.

  His feet were heavy; his stance upright. He was cocky for no reason. It made me think he was a nutcase. Not like me. No, crazier than me, because at the end of the day, I was good at fighting. He was getting into cages with fighters who could kill him. He was an idiot. Certifiable. And I had zero tolerance for him.

  The fact that I had to fight him in the first place annoyed me. I’d wanted a challenge, one that would push my adrenaline over the edge and exhaust me. The unlucky son-of-a-bitch who was pulling money tonight would be pissed. They’d already talked to me last week about drawing it out for the crowd. Ticket sales would go down, if the crowd didn’t feel they were getting their money’s worth. Even though Steele allowed the fights to take place in his gym, he steered clear of the money being exchanged; that way, his hands were clean if word ever got out to the pro league.

  I turned my back to the crowd, when the referee took my arm, raising it high in the air, signaling I’d won. As if anyone watching the fight needed someone to tell them who’d won. I’d knocked his ass out. Everyone witnessed it. Why did I have to stand there like a fucking movie star, when everyone cheered me on like my life would end if they didn’t? I despised the empty appreciation. I hadn’t cured cancer. I hadn’t captured America’s Most Wanted. I’d simply punched someone so hard, he’d fallen like a ton of bricks onto a mat.

  “Hell yeah, man! I’ve never seen a Superman punch so fluid in my life. You nailed that son-of-a-bitch. Even if Lopez were here watching, he’d never be ready for you next week. No amount of scouting will prepare him for that.” Steele slapped me on the shoulder, already looking ahead to my next fight.

  I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I needed to get out. I had the sudden urge of flight; my anxious energy surging on the inside, bubbling at my core, preparing to explode. “Thanks. I’m going to head out. You need anything?”

  His brow furrowed at my nonchalance. It wasn’t that I was trying to be a dick, quite the contrary. I’d deliberately kept my response short, not wanting to express the growth of my anxiety. My pulse thrummed double time as my heart rate sped up, and my mind raced with thoughts of consumption. I didn’t want Steele to know I cared more about numbing myself than I did celebrating a win with him.

  I pulled my sweatpants on over my shorts, thinking about how a whiskey would burn going down. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the soft whisper. Instant gratification was a mind-fuck. Because the second that instant was gone, shame and disappointment would flood the void. For me to have such will-power physically, I was a pussy mentally. Giving in to the impulse made me feel weak. My brain never rested. The desire was always there, pushing and pulling, keeping me off balance. There was never a day where I didn’t feel compelled to do it—to give in to the urge.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Willow

  “Willow!” Andy shoved my office door open so hard it banged against the wall. “I need you to cover that cage fight at Steele’s Gym on Fifth Avenue tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “John’s sick,” he said in a rush as he continued toward the windows. His nervous energy buzzed between us and made my scalp prickle.

  “You do realize I write about feminism, right?” I tapped a set of papers on the desk. “What the hell am I going to talk to a bunch of meatheads about?”

  His head turned sharply from the city streets below toward me. “How about the fight?” He folded the papers he held in his hands.

  “I know nothing about cage fighting,” I said with a huff. “Hell, I’m not sure it’s even legal.”

  “Look, just take some notes, make it a simple piece, I don’t care. You’re good at making something out of nothing.” He rushed out of my office, dropping the papers on my desk as he passed, not caring in the least where they landed.

  “Fine, but you owe me,” I muttered. Picking up the loose papers, I saw that they were leave requests for two individuals in my office. I shook my head, and stacked them neatly to the side. I’d drop them off at HR when I left for the day.

  I knew he was stressed because of the current deadline we were on, but I’d never seen him so out of sorts. I shook off the worries, and thought about what he’d just asked me to do. I took a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves. Writing about something I knew nothing about worried me. My name would be on the piece. He would have to approve it, and of course, I wanted to do a good job.

  I glanced at the clock. If I cut out early, I would have time to do some research. I shut my computer off and grabbed my bag, deciding a little research was better than none. I hadn’t been advised about who was fighting, and I couldn’t even google the names before showing up at the event. My annoyance with Andy only grew as I approached Interstate 214, enroute to my house to freshen up. Lena, my best friend, texted me on my way home wanting to go out for dinner. After I told her about my change of plans, she insisted on meeting me there.

  ***

  The click of my heels against the pavement echoed off the graffiti-covered building as I crossed the street in front of Steele’s Gym. I continued to take in my surroundings, as I quickened my steps to the front door.

  “Ten bucks,” the guy outside the door said.

  “Doesn’t the gym offer a professional courtesy to media?” I asked.

  He snorted and shook his head as he stuck out a hand and wiggled his thick fingers.

  I blew out a frustrated breath and dug through my wallet, trying to buy time to come up with a plan that didn’t involve me going in search of an ATM.

  T
ears stung my eyes as soon as I felt a crumpled bill’s edge behind my license. Oh, Mom. Bless your heart. Always taking care of me. She couldn’t seem to help hiding cash in my wallet these days. I handed him the twenty and blinked hard as I waited for my change.

  I shot Lena a text to warn her to bring cash, then entered through the massive, tinted-glass door. It was lighter inside than it looked from the outside. It didn’t look like much more than a warehouse from the street, but the interior was sophisticated, fresh, and appeared to be high end.

  Rows of bleachers surrounded a black octagon. On the north end of the cage, black netting separated what appeared to be expensive workout equipment. Someone had definitely put some money into the gym. I assumed the fights that took place were under the table; I’d have to follow up on that. But I’d never heard of them, and didn’t believe men would pummel each other for fun, so it didn’t seem that far-fetched.

  My wandering gaze halted when I witnessed some money exchanging hands. Apparently, my observations didn’t go unnoticed, because before I could take my pen out, a huge man in khaki slacks and a plain gray T-shirt approached me. I liked his style. His red Vans stuck out, making him seem younger than he probably was.

  “Trevor Steele.” He held his hand out for me to shake.

  “Willow Stevens.” I smiled, placing my hand in his. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Your first time here?”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  His chuckle surprised me. “Nah, I’m just always around. I would have remembered you.”

  “Well, I heard about the fights and wanted to see what all the buzz was about.” Offering my Daily News media badge hadn’t helped at the door, so I didn’t see any point in pulling it out for him.

  “Oh yeah?” Trevor said. “What are you into? Boxing? Grappling? Jiu-jitsu?”

  Ju who? I crossed my arms, aiming to protect myself from his curious questions. “Grappling,” I answered.

  “Lucky for you, that’s Payne’s specialty.”

  “Cool. I’m looking forward to it.” I smiled, trying to seem genuinely interested.

  “Yeah?” He turned to the rows of seating and held out an arm. “Well, have a seat anywhere—”

  “Oh my god!” Lena shrieked as she skidded to a stop in front of me. “I just saw a clown pissing on the side of the building. What in the hell have you gotten us into? I swear if I catch something from being here, you’re paying my doctor bill.” She finally noticed Trevor behind me. “Well, hello.”

  He held out his hand. “The name’s Trevor Steele.”

  “Of course it is.” Her cheeks blushed a little as he took her hand in his. “Lena Davis.”

  “We’re going to find a seat,” I said. Grabbing Lena’s arm, I pulled her toward me.

  “I wouldn’t sit in the front row,” he warned.

  “Don’t think we can handle it?” I felt more confident with my best friend at my side.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can handle it.” He winked. “But Payne’s fans are crazy.” His left eyebrow rose just a hair, as if hiding an inside joke.

  “Noted.”

  “Later, ladies.” His grin told me he definitely knew something we didn’t.

  Two fights, a plate full of BBQ nachos, and two beers later, the lights went out. I opened my eyes wider, trying to make out the shadows in the dark. The roar of the crowd startled me, causing me to reach out for Lena’s arm. The excitement in the air had us rising to our feet, joining the rest of the audience.

  The crowd quieted as the overhead speakers came on. I waited, thinking heavy metal was about to blare through the room, but I only heard footsteps. Loud crackles and pops surrounded the stillness of the room. It reminded me of when I used to go to my grandma’s house on the lake, and she’d play old records.

  After a couple of seconds, a man walked up to the cage, and the crowd lost it. They chanted, “Payne! Payne! Payne!” Each time, growing louder and more frenzied.

  Lena leaned over and yelled over the din of the crowd, “Shit just got real.”

  She was right; the excitement in the air was palpable. This fight must’ve been the highlight of the night. I’d only taken two paragraphs of notes through the first two fights. And that included the intoxicated middle-aged lady in the front row who flashed everyone for a free beer.

  I stood, patiently waiting for the fighter to reveal himself in the lights over the cage. With all the commotion in the stands, I assumed he’d play up to his fans in the over-crowded gym. He didn’t. His silhouette, tall and muscular, stood stalk-still just outside the cage; his stare straight ahead, waiting for the go-ahead. He had on nothing but a pair of blue shorts, and his tan skin sucked me in like a vacuum. I licked my lips, my gaze focused on his abs. Each one was perfectly shaped, making me wonder how long it took him to get them like that.

  His right hand flinched, drawing my gaze away from his stomach. As calm as his demeanor was, that one small movement made me think he was nervous, or maybe just eager to get started. His head made one slight movement to the right, and mine followed. Trevor sat in a metal folding chair in the corner. He nodded once, as if giving him advice without words.

  Payne walked to the center of the cage, not acknowledging the moment that had passed between the two. Looking back and forth between them both, I noticed Trevor was much more relaxed. I didn’t know if this was due to his laid-back personality, or if he was just that confident in Payne’s abilities. Payne’s dark eyes narrowed, seemingly annoyed with the delay of getting down to business.

  Hypnotized, I didn’t look away from him, even when the other fighter entered the cage. It wasn’t until the lady in front of us startled me that I looked away.

  “Kick his ass, Payne!” she screamed, holding a poster that read I’m a Sucker for Payne. Underneath, was an arrow pointing downward, so that it pointed at her when she held it above her head.

  Payne stood with his shoulders back in confidence, perfectly centered in the cage, not once looking out into the crowd. He didn’t respond to the support they gave him. Instead, he narrowed in on his opponent, eyes laser focused. I couldn’t imagine what the other guy was thinking. Hell, I was intimidated by Payne at forty feet away. The tension reached new heights, almost percolating around the two fighters. As I took in the fans, it was easy to see I wasn’t the only one amazed.

  Both fighters circled each other slowly. Their eyes fixated solely on each other, their fists punching the air like a warm-up. Lopez moved his bare feet around quickly, which made me think he had more energy. I gasped when he brought his right foot up to kick Payne in the ribs. Payne blocked it and smiled.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Tension gathered in my shoulders, causing heat to radiate from my muscles. Curiosity ignited deep in my gut.

  I’d almost forgotten the reason I was there. I needed to get the feeling of the place down on paper, so I didn’t forget. The certainty that one of the athletes would be taking a loss intrigued me.

  Lopez kicked him in the thigh, then quickly punched Payne in the face. I watched, surprised that he’d gotten one in on him without so much as a block from Payne. Not like the first time, when he’d tried the same kick.

  “Why didn’t he block that one?” I shouted toward Lena, but her answer was drowned out by a sudden crescendo of voices around us.

  I bent down to grab my pen and paper, while balancing my third beer. Whatever happened next, it needed to be documented. Now that I’d witnessed the atmosphere, I was eager to pen the experience. At another roar from the crowd, Lena bounced on her heels, emulating the rest of the audience. It startled me, causing me to slosh some of my beer on the person in front of me.

  “I’m so sorry—” I started to say, until a giant fist swung at me so fast, I froze. As her fist connected with my cheek, I fell back into my seat and rattled the row of chairs.

  The larger lady leaned over me and said, “That’s your warning.”

  Lena still hadn’t noticed I’d been assaul
ted, and continued her whistling and clapping, as if she were a life-long supporter of the sport.

  Dazed, I shook my head, attempting to gather my thoughts.

  I’ve just been punched. In the face.

  I moved my jaw back and forth, almost stunned that it didn’t hurt more. Even with my not-so-pure past, black eyes had never been a part of it. I imagined blood running down my face and a dark-purple bruise forming, when Lena finally looked down at me.

  “Willow, you just missed the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! That guy just lunged in the air and punched the other guy’s lights out. Oh my God. We are so coming back!” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took in my appearance. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I waved a hand toward the body blocking my view. “That lady just hit me!”

  Lena’s horrified expression would have made me laugh in any other circumstance. “Who?” she mouthed, because the crowd was still going crazy.

  “Her,” I said and pointed at the brute of a woman. “I spilled my beer on her accidently and she knocked me on my ass.”

  “Hey!” Lena shouted at the back of the woman’s head. “You can’t just punch my friend and think you’ll get away with it.”

  The woman turned to her friend and said, “Hold my beer.” She then leaned toward me and Lena, making us both sink back into our chairs. “Want to bet?” Her sausage fingers gripped the back of her chair so tight, her knuckles turned white. “She caused me to miss more than half of Payne’s match.”

  “It only lasted thirty seconds before he knocked that guy out.” Lena huffed.

  “Boy, she’s a smart one.” She and her hillbilly friend laughed.

  As if she’d suddenly realized we were the ones out of place, Lena nudged my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. She’s wearing a flannel with the arms cut out.” One side of her mouth turned downward, and her eyes widened.

  After grabbing my bag, we hastily made our escape.