Chapter Eight
Alexa
I realized that Ian saw us. I started to wave, but thought better of it. I’m sure he was already distracted enough, just knowing that his parents came. I glanced at his mom. Poor thing looked like a nervous wreck. I had called her earlier just to see how they were doing. We started talking and I told her I was going to Ian’s championship fight.
“Ian’s fighting for a title tonight?”
“Yes, he didn’t tell you?” She started crying and I suddenly felt like crap.
“I’ve been such a horrible mother to him.”
“No! Oh no, don’t say that. Ian thinks you’re great. He loves you so much. He understands that you can’t watch him fight….” Kind of.
“No, I have been, Alexa. I’ve been so wrapped up in my grief that I’ve almost forgotten I have another child that needs me. What time is his fight?” I told her where and what time. And then I said, “I think it will be sold out…” I heard her suck in a breath, trying to control a sob before she let me finish. “His tickets are at the window. This is a different stadium though. So, look for pick-up or will-call and tell them who you are.”
I heard her let out the breath. “Thank you, Alexa. You’ve been such a good friend to both of my babies. I hope you know we love you.” I got choked up then. She was the closest thing to a mother that I ever had. I thanked her quickly and hung up.
I was further surprised when I got here and saw that his father came too. He looked proud and excited. It was the first time since Emma died that I saw any signs of life in his eyes. I hoped Ian was as happy to see them as they seemed to be just being here.
“Crusher” was standing in his corner glaring at Ian. He was completely bald and his oiled head glowed under the lights. The lack of hair emphasized the scars on his face and the way his nose sat to one side. He looked mean…and very dangerous. This was about defending his title. I doubted he was going to give it up easily.
The referee motioned for them to meet in the middle. They went out and he gave them the speech. The fighters seemed to be locked eye to eye and although I couldn’t hear what was said up there, the motion of “Crusher’s” lips and the glare in his eye made me think some serious words were being exchanged…or maybe only flung from the “champion.” It didn’t look like Ian said anything back. They tapped their knuckles together and then went back to their corners. A few seconds later the loud sound of a horn brought them back out. They met in the middle with raised fists. I felt Ian’s mom take my hand. As soon as the ref waved a hand between them and said, “Fight,” she squeezed it…tightly.
The two hard-bodied men circled each other. They looked like they were sizing each other up. The crowd was yelling at them to “Throw a punch,” “Take a hit,” and “Throw him down!” I saw Bo put his hand up in Ian’s face, like he was taunting him. Ian still looked cool and calm right up until he threw out a quick left that caught Crusher on the chin. The crowd went wild as they circled around each other again. Crusher suddenly threw out his right leg and swept at Ian’s feet. Ian was too fast for him though and jumped back in time to avoid being taken down. He came back at him with a right jab and then a crushing blow to his left side. It seemed to stun the “champion.” I don’t think he was expecting such a challenge. He starts to double over, but he must have been faking it because all of a sudden he threw out a right cross that Ian wasn’t expecting. It caught him on the side of the face and I heard his mother suck in air and I felt her clamp down tighter on my hand. I looked at her face and saw that she was wearing a painful wince. I squeezed her hand back for reassurance and then focused back on the fight. I looked up just in time to see Crusher rush Ian and slam him hard against the mesh of the cage. He held him there with his arms as his fist’s pummeled Ian’s back and shoulders.
Ian wasn’t done yet though. The crowd was buzzing as his right leg reached out and snaked around the other man’s legs and set him off balance. He tried to come back and grab Ian around the neck but Ian threw his shoulder forward and buried it in his chest. They were struggling, but neither of them was going down. It seemed to me like they stayed that way for a long time before the ref moved in and broke them up. They both raised their arms and Crusher took a step back. They stood there like that until the ref waved a hand between them again and it was back on.
As soon as they were in fighting stance, Ian went for the other man’s gut. As he doubled over, Ian slammed into him with a shoulder. Bo “Crusher” Bryce, slammed down into the mat on his back. He was obviously struggling to breathe as Ian straddled his legs and pulled back his fist. Bo threw his head to the side and brought his arms up. It didn’t faze Ian as he started throwing the punches anyways. He was pounding him but I could not just hear but feel the buzz of the crowd as Bo planted his foot against the mat and thrust his hips. He bucked Ian off like a bronco and suddenly he was on top. He pulled back his fist and Ian’s mom’s face was buried in my shoulder when it landed and tiny droplets of blood rained out across the octagon. His father even looked away and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. He was about to unleash another when the horn sounded. Thank you, Jesus.
Bo got up off of Ian and they both went to their corners. I could see his trainer talking to him…yelling, maybe as he patched up the cut across his eye. He rinsed out his mouth, wiped himself down with a towel and got back up on his feet.
The horn sounded and the ref gave them the signal. Ian threw the first punch again, a right hook that connected with Bo’s left jaw. He came back with two sharp jabs against Ian’s stomach and ribs. Ian was suddenly gasping for breath and looked like he was going down. He doubled over slightly
but stayed on his feet and in a blink he was moving again, throwing out a round kick that landed on Bo’s ribs hard. He stumbled backwards but then shot one of his legs out and connected with the backs of Ian’s calves. Ian was struggling to maintain his balance. When he got it back he connected with the other man’s ribs with his fist this time. That seemed to piss him off. He brought his knee up so quickly that I don’t think anyone saw it coming. It connected with the underside of Ian’s chin. Ian staggered back, looking stunned for a second and Crusher stepped towards him with a cocky look. Ian wasn’t finished. He threw out a right and connected so hard with his jaw that his mouth guard flew out along with a spray of blood and saliva that coated everything in a two foot radius…and then he went down. He landed on the wet, bloody mat with a thud. His head bounced up once and then landed back down. His eyes were closed. He was out. The crowd was going crazy.
“What happened?” His mom asked, close to tears. His father was grinning and so was I.
“Our son is a champion,” he said just before the announcer said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, your new middleweight Champion, Ian “The Axe” Axle.”
Everyone was on their feet now. The sounds of the crowd were deafening. The faces around us were contorted with excitement. Ian’s mom and dad were hugging and jumping up and down, and I couldn’t stop smiling. He won. He was a middleweight champion. I focused my attention back up front as he was presented with the coveted belt. He was bleeding from the cut over his eye, sweating buckets and smiling from ear to ear.