Jessie

He’d fought hundreds of times. He’d grown up in this sport and come up the ladder one rung at a time. Jessie was a scrapper, an undercard, an up and comer, and now finally a contender for the title. He was fighting the Pablo Nova, the middleweight champion in the 21C League and in the European League of MMA. This was 21C sanctioned, but if he won he’d be considered the champ in both leagues. Even the great Craddock Flynn hadn’t done that.

Being the main event was new, no question about it. The crowd was pulling for Jessie over Pablo, and he could hear them cheering as they announced his name. The area pulsed with their energy. It fired up his blood, and he was ready to win.

Jessie looked out of the Octagon to where he thought Ash might be sitting, but the lights and the crowd made it tough to really see anything.

Coach Boggs took both of his hands and shook them out like ropes.

“Fight your fight, and you’ll be fine.”

“Yep.” Pablo Nova was a natural 185, or middleweight, fighter. Jessie naturally was bigger, maybe even light heavyweight material. He walked around at about 200 pounds. He’d slowly sluiced off the weight during his training, and it felt like his body was made of pure muscle and bone. Anything soft was gone. Incinerated by a lifetime of discipline.

His opponent, Pablo Nova, was just that. A star who burned quickly and hot. Jessie knew what to do with Nova. The fight that he’d mapped in his mind for months now finally began for real.

The first round Jessie took a few good punches on his nose and his chin. They were good, maybe even Nova’s best, but Jessie was still standing. Jessie defended himself, took a shot, and brought Nova to the mat. Jessie could feel Nova’s muscles squeeze and strain. Nova pushed hard and escaped Jessie.

It was going exactly according to Jessie’s plan. Let Pablo Nova’s star shoot across the sky, or the Octagon in this case, and then fade out.

Jessie took a few more hits, dodged a few more, and he even let his defense down so Nova could take him to the mat. The effort it took Nova to bring Jessie down was explosive. Jessie’s main goal on the ground was not to get caught in anything too dangerous. He kept moving, shifting position, and offering himself up as bait over and over.

The first round was over quickly, and it was a flurry of action. Mostly from Nova.

Todd Barton squirted some water in his mouth.

“Little dicey there on the one shot. Be careful.” Barton could have had this same chance at a title if not for his injury. Jessie wasn’t taking this moment for granted. A fighter’s career could be over in an instant. He mentally went through every second that just happened. If the judges were scoring right now, it would go to Nova.

“No, he’s good. You’re good, aren’t you, Jessie? It went your way.” Coach Boggs knew the plan. He knew that Jessie was wringing the energy from Pablo Nova. Every time Nova took the bait Jessie made him work and expend precious energy.

“I’m finishing him this round,” he said to Coach Boggs.

“You were thinking in the third, but you’re right. If he comes out tired, you do it. Anything could happen. Don’t risk it.” Boggs was on board and saw what Jessie saw. The process of breaking Pablo Nova down was happening fast. And Jessie’s training and experience were superior. So superior that he had no doubt he would finish this fight his way.

They entered the center at the start of the second round, and Jessie’s focus was heightened. The roar of the crowd didn’t matter, the years of preparation didn’t matter, nothing was in his vision or mind but finishing this opponent. He knew exactly what to do.

Pablo Nova was winded, he was sweating profusely, and it looked like it was a struggle to lift his arms.

Jessie took two slow steps to the side. He let Pablo Nova think, for an instant, that this would be a dance, a way to get through the round and mark time. Then Jessie shattered that instant with his fist. He landed a powerful right hook to Nova’s jaw. Jessie knew he’d cracked something in the man’s face. Nova staggered. Jessie didn’t wait; he charged in with a second strike with his left. This time it landed on Nova’s cheekbone. Jessie was ready to charge in, take him the mat, ground, and pound until the belt was his. But he didn’t need to. The one-two punch left Pablo Nova’s face shattered. The second punch sent the two belt holder to the mat in a crumpled, bloody heap. And Jessie stepped back instead of charging forward.

He felt the ref’s hand on his shoulder, making sure that Jessie did nothing more to the defenseless man on the mat. It wasn’t needed, though. Jessie knew he’d won. He knew from the moment this fight was announced that he would clinch this title.

The crowd erupted in cheers. His corner was filled with hugs and shouting. The ref called them back to the center. Nova was standing, thank God. Jessie didn’t want to kill him, and for a half a second it looked very bad. Even now he wasn’t sure if Pablo Nova knew where he was.

The ref raised Jessie’s arm.

“By knockout in the second round, the new 21C Middleweight Champion of the World, is Jessie Hoolihan!!!” The arena erupted. Someone handed him the heavy gold belt. He draped it over his shoulder.

He wanted to share this with Ash. Some first fight to attend, he thought; it was going to be tough to top it.

For the next few hours, Jessie did what Sam said. He talked to press, he signed things, he met with Meyer Thompson. There were congratulations, champagne, and medical checkups. There was, however, no Ashling.

At first, he just thought it was the crazy atmosphere. Maybe she’d gotten lost in the shuffle. Then he started to worry about her driving. Had she gotten in an accident on the way over? The excitement of the title, the surge of accomplishment was diminishing every second he couldn’t find Ash. People partied all around him and he went through the motions. Something was wrong.

Eventually, at two in the morning, with no idea where she was, and no answer of her phone Jessie packed his bag and grabbed Barton and Boggs out of their hotel room.

The celebration was in full swing, but he had no interest in the booze or broads that were a part of a championship night. Where the hell was Ash?

“Coach Boggs, I’m going back now. I’m taking your car. You two can either come with me now or Sam, my agent, will drive you when she goes tomorrow.” Jessie explained his deep fear that something was terribly wrong.

“I’m with you,” Boggs said.

“I’m going with Sam. I’m sorry, but I’m a little, uh, fucked up.” Barton was a lot fucked up, and it was best that he slept it off anyway.

“No problem. Sam will take you tomorrow.” Boggs was fast; he knew how upset Jessie was, and he moved with the same intensity to get back to Grand City and find Ash.

Getting to Grand City did not help. Ash was gone. Straight up.

She’d clearly taken his truck and set out, but what happened to her? Why hadn’t Ash come to his fight? Why wasn’t she answering? Jessie was sick. He had a shiny new MMA belt, and he couldn’t care less about it. Ash wasn’t in the apartment and his truck was gone. It was maddening.

He called the police, but they said she was a grown woman, and enough time hadn’t passed for any law enforcement intervention.

“She’s probably dumped you. Women are like that.” The police response wasn’t what he wanted. Coach Boggs hadn’t left his side, and in the end, he wound up at the Great Wolves Gym with no idea what to do next. Boggs had called Sawyer, and the biker was now there too trying to piece together this mystery.

“I’ll get my guys looking. If the cops won’t help that’s not the only way to fly. I’ve got eyes too.” Sawyer worked the phones and Jessie knew that the MC was powerful. Maybe they could find something.

It had been 24 hours since he’d finished the fight and he hadn’t slept or ate.

“Boggs, I need your vehicle again.”

“No, I don’t think you should drive.” Boggs had been up as much as he’d been up.

The Great Wolves Gym doors opened, and Craddock walked in. His friend made a beeline for him.

“I was going to congratulate you, but that’s nothing right now. I know. What can I do?” Flynn was there for him. Just like Jessie had been there for Flynn in other tight spots.

“Drive me over to the shop.” Jessie didn’t know Aunt Theone’s number or where she lived. He needed to find out if the nasty old woman knew anything.

Craddock drove them over in silence. Jessie appreciated that. He didn’t know if he could relay the same facts again.

The shop was closed, despite it being after 10 a.m. when it would normally be open. He could see someone inside; it was the delivery guy, what was his name? Oh yeah, Gus.

Jessie pounded on the window and got the man’s attention. He came to the door and opened it a crack to Jessie and Craddock.

“Sorry, we’re closed. For good. Out of business.”

“What? That’s got to be a mistake. I’m Ashling Byrne’s boyfriend, she told me repairs were started, that things were fine yesterday. The city was here, and it was all good. What do you mean out of business?” Jessie was sick to his stomach like Ash had lied to him or something, that she was planning to leave him but didn’t have the guts to tell him. None of it made sense.

“Yeah, well, it was a shock to me and Colleen, the gal that works here, but Theone O’Shea sold the place for big money yesterday. She showed us the fat check for a hundred grand and then she fired us. So yeah, these are going to be condos or something.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she made out great. Colleen and I got nothing.”

“But where’s Ash?”

“We asked that same question. Theone said the girl was being shipped back to Ireland. We would have liked to say goodbye, but the last day has been a disaster. We don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“Can I ask you where Theone lives? I’d like to talk to her.”

“Not happening. She and her daughter got on a plane to Costa Rica. They’re rich now and celebrating screwing us over.”

“My God.” Jessie was more confused and frustrated than before. Craddock had a hand on his shoulder. It was a good thing, Jessie was pretty sure he would have punched a window or done something destructive.

“I gotta go. I’ve got personal items to clean out.” Gus shut the door, and Jessie stood there with Craddock.

“I’m not sure what to do with this information. She went back to Ireland? Didn’t say a fucking word.”

Craddock didn’t have an answer for that and Jessie had run out of questions to ask but for one. Why did Ash just leave him, on the most important night of his life, without saying a word?

He was lost, hurt, frustrated, scared, every emotion was running through Jessie’s head.

His phone vibrated, and he grabbed for it immediately. It could be her.

The number was a Detroit area code; he answered.

It was clearly a recorded message.

“The Detroit City Impound Lot will be open on Monday morning. Owners may present their claims beginning at eight a.m.”

The recording ended.

“What? You look worse by the second. Was that Ash?” Craddock asked him.

“No, somehow my truck is in Detroit at an impound lot.”

“Shit,” Craddock said.

Jessie now feared something way worse than Ash not saying goodbye.