Jessie

Jessie had never been knocked out; he’d been choked out once. He didn’t tap out, ever. So once in an early fight, he got choked until the lights went out. Touching Ash, being that close to her, feeling her respond to him, that was a knockout punch.

Everything about her had him seeing stars. He knew she was beautiful; any idiot could see that, but her smell, her skin, and something else, there was something about her that connected to him in a way that he couldn’t describe and didn’t expect.

He walked back to the gym. He didn’t see passersby, or cars, or the sidewalk. He saw Ash’s red hair, he remembered the feel of her white skin, and he tried to get control of an attraction he felt for her that had knocked out thoughts of any other woman.

He’d need to hit the showers if he couldn’t stop remembering the way her breasts rose and fell against her blouse.

Ash Byrne, he was burning up for Ash Byrne. Jessie shook his head and walked into the Great Wolves Gym. The evening sessions were under way.

They stayed open late for guys who had day jobs but were trying to make a career out of MMA fighting.

Jess searched the room for his grandpa, Whitey, who was next to the sparring ring, hanging on to the rope. Jessie tried to be there for whatever Whitey needed with training. He’d spar with any fighter, demonstrate, drill, whatever. It helped him too, training with all sorts of opponents while he got ready for his big title fight.

Whitey was leaning on him more and more. Jessie didn’t want to think about why, but it was hard to avoid. Whitey, a fixture at this gym for 50 years, was slowing down.

“Get over here, Jessie. He needs work on this takedown.” Jessie took off his shoes and climbed into the ring.

“You’re leaning in too much. Giving me the leverage,” Jessie said.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Whitey may have been getting older, but he was still as saucy as ever. If you did something wrong from a shot to a hold to whatever, in any way that the old man thought was sloppy, he’d call you out.

Jessie drilled with the younger fighter a few more times. He noticed Whitey head over to a folding chair and sit down. He also noticed Craddock Flynn, the most famous name to ever train at Great Wolves Gym, walk over and check on him.

Craddock’s fame made it tough to train some days without causing a riot of gawkers. But the night hours were sometimes quieter. Jessie kept one eye on his sparring partner and one eye on Craddock and Whitey. Craddock looked worried.

“Okay, good, just keep doing it that way,” Jessie said. The look Craddock gave him let Jessie know that he wasn’t the only noticing Whitey missing a step, or two.

“Just watch yourself with 21C. I know they have their eye on you. They might try to take advantage. Protect yourself.” Whitey was warning Craddock about something.

Though it was a little late for that. Craddock was big time now.

But instead of brush off Whitey, Craddock was patient with the old man. Craddock’s brother had special needs, and for a tough fighter, Craddock Flynn knew how to be sensitive to someone in distress. It hurt Jessie to admit it, but Whitey’s age meant he was in distress more and more.

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” Craddock gave Jessie a nod, and Jessie put a hand on Whitey’s shoulder. Craddock Flynn was a multi-millionaire, a household name, and had made dozens of deals with 21C. But Whitey was talking to him like it was his first contract.

“Grandpa, when did you check your blood sugar last?”

“What? That fucking thing. Poking me in the thumb. It’s bullshit.”

“I’ll get it. You forget what year it is. Craddock’s been under contract with 21C for years. This isn't his first rodeo.” Jessie said, trying to get Whitey to recognize where and when he was.

“You forget how old you are. I’ll beat you within an inch of your sorry ass.” Whitey’s protest started with gusto but trailed off by the time he got to “sorry ass.”

“I know, but you still need to check your blood sugar.” Craddock stayed and sat down next to Whitey.

“I’d bet on you versus Jessie any day.” Craddock laughed and patted Whitey’s shoulder.

“Don’t patronize me, movie star. I’ll leave a mark on that pretty face.”

“Oh, good, you’re back. Yes, welcome to the present,” Jessie said and regretted it a bit. It distressed his grandpa when he realized he’d had an episode. But it was happening more frequently, and it was getting harder to brush off.

“I still have more marbles than you do. Did you get a date with that flower girl? I’m sure no.” Whitey was back in the present with a vengeance.

“What’s this? A date? Like dinner and a movie? You’re all grown up, Jessie!” Craddock barely contained his glee. Jessie had never had any serious interest in any of that. He was happy to let Craddock get entangled with the drama of a relationship. That was until Ash crashed into his life.

“Bite me,” Jessie said.

“So who is this flower girl? Sounds a little young for you.” Craddock was going to be insufferable about this. And Whitey encouraged it. He noticed Whitey was very good at turning the subject away from his bouts of confusion.

“Not a flower girl like that. She works at that flower shop.”

“O’Shea’s?” Craddock grew up in Irish Town too. They all knew Peter O’Shea, owner of the shop, and direct transplant from the mother country.

“She’s Old Man O’Shea’s niece or something, moved here from his hometown to help with the shop. Then, of course, he promptly died.”

“She cute?” Craddock was in a serious relationship, but still, he felt a spike of jealousy in his chest when Craddock asked about Ash.

“I saw her. She’s a beautiful girl and a nice girl, and you’re going to have to do a lot of work on that one,” Whitey said.

“Wow, a nice girl? Not a groupie? Not a bar girl? Whoa. A new challenge for Jessie Hoolihan.” Craddock’s laugh was irritating Jessie.

“Oh, let’s just remember how colossally bad you were at this, and if it wasn’t for G-Man and me, God rest his soul, you’d be single as hell.”

“True. True, you two were quite the experts on romance. So what’s your plan with this girl, what’s her name?”

“Ashling, an old Irish name.” Whitey’s brain was working on all cylinders now.

“Ah, beautiful,” Craddock said. Jessie was about to haul off and hit the champion, the possible greatest of all time was going to get a pretty white tooth shoved down his throat if he even looked at Ashling. Jessie, up to this moment, had no idea he was the jealous type. He apparently was. He shook it off and tried to answer the question at hand.

“My plan is to, uh, uh, buy flowers.”

“What?” Whitey and Craddock blurted the question in unison. Shit. His plan to get in Ash’s life was about to get shot down.

“I, uh, I’m buying flowers from the shop every day until she uh.” He stopped. Explaining it sounded ridiculous.

“That’s one way to go,” Craddock said.

“You could be buying a lot of flowers, kid.” Whitey didn’t seem confident in Jessie’s plan, at all.

“I’ll buy as many as it takes. You got any better ideas?”

“Well, with Cassidy I did this crazy thing. I took her to dinner.”

“Oh, gee, creative, I’d never thought of that.” Jessie rubbed his hand through his beard. He doubted everything thanks to these two.

Whitey had been bugging Jessie to find a nice girl for years, so he chimed in.

“Just don’t try to boss her around. Women don’t like that, oh, and if she’s mad say you’re sorry, oh, and don’t think you’re funny. You are not funny. Proven fact.” Jessie realized Whitey was listing the sum total of his knowledge of women.

“That’s what you’ve learned from Grandma? After fifty-five years?” Jessie knew Whitey was the boss at the Great Wolves Gym, but Grandma was the boss everywhere else.

“Yeah, and put your clothes in the hamper, not next to the hamper. Eh, who are we kidding? You’ll probably not get to the hamper stage.” Whitey stood up and waved off both fighters. He headed back into the heart of the gym and started barking corrections and orders to the evening crew of fighters.

“Good luck with the flower girl.” Craddock patted Jessie on the shoulder and chuckled.

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“Let me know if you get to The Hamper Stage. That will be big news.”

“That’s it.” Jessie turned and shot in on the greatest of all time’s knees and took him down to the floor.

The two did what they’d been doing since they were kids. Beat the living shit out of each other.

Every shot, every hold, every kick they’d exchanged over the years had put Jessie and Craddock where they both were, at the top of the MMA food chain.