Zane

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Zane worked off the sexual energy in the gym. He destroyed a few sparring partners, and even Knox noticed his mania.

Zane’s first fight as a 21C League fighter was in less than a month, and here he was thinking about a woman more than the fight. This was dangerous territory for him. It could probably get him in trouble. But it appeared that there was no way he was leaving Valerie Colson alone. No way in hell.

She was fucking gorgeous, she smelled gorgeous, and he was going to have her. He knew that it was bad timing. That he should just be banging some girl who he didn’t have feelings for to relieve stress. His heart was leading him to Valerie.

That was the trouble or could be.

But there was no way at all he was letting her go. And there was no way in hell he was letting his first fight in the 21C be anything but a knockout.

Zane sparred a little longer. “Wow, what the hell?” Knox asked him while they both caught their breath.

“I’ve got less than a month for this. I gotta be ready.”

“Yeah. I get it, but you’re babying that shoulder. It’s starting to be obvious since you’re going HAM everywhere else.”

“They can’t know I have an issue.” Zane was sure they’d pull him from his first fight or hell, even drop him. Or worse, prescribe goddamn drugs.

“Hey, you need to step into the trainer’s.” It was Coach Hawking. He was one of the many trainers and coaches that they had access to at the gym. Zane was very worried about getting too close to any of them. Shit.

But Knox was right. People were noticing.

While Knox was a partner in all training, 21C’s Training Center was staffed with the best MMA coaches in the world. You did what they said, and you got better. It was that simple. It was one of the benefits of this opportunity.

“No, I’m good.” He didn’t want another doctor to get their hands on him.

“You’re favoring one side. I’m not stupid. Get that shoulder checked. Now.” Zane exchanged a look with Knox. Dammit, Knox was usually right about this shit. Anyone in the gym could see that he wasn’t 100-percent.

If Zane insisted on ignoring the coaches, he risked making them take more notice of his shoulder or his background. He didn’t want to give them a reason to look any closer at him.

“I’m fine.”

“Then there’s no problem seeing the trainer.”

“Sure.” Zane wasn’t doing it. No way but he’d act like he was.

He finished his workout and then came up with a way out. He made sure Coach saw him walk toward the training room.

“Hey, Diggs.” Dave Navarre was the trainer on duty during the day.

“Coach Hawking wanted you to look at my arm.”

“Any pain?” Navarre walked over and put a hand on his bad shoulder.

“No. None at all.”

“Why don’t you come in the training room for a minute, so I can take a look.”

Shit shit shit, was all that Zane could think as he followed Navarre into the training room. It was huge, state of the art, like everything here, and Zane wanted out as fast as possible.

Navarre pulled up a file, on his computer. It was Zane’s medical history, one with a major omission.

“You had surgery, what, two years?”

“Yep, been perfect since.”

Navarre came back over and took Zane’s arm at the elbow. He rotated it above his head and back around. Navarre did it slowly, and Zane was able to keep his face neutral and his breathing steady.

“Okay, well, let me know if it acts up. Sometimes they do.”

“Like I said, doing fine.”

Zane walked out of the office. He felt a sheen of sweat above his lip. That had hurt. More than he let on. He knew there was a way to make it stop hurting.

He knew there was an easy way. One call to Vinnie would be all it took, and he could ignore the pain in his arm in a way that worked like a charm. Except it would fuck up everything else in his life.

No. He was not calling Vinnie. Dammit. The pain wasn’t going to make him weak. He was determined that this pain was going to make him strong.

Zane walked out of the 21C and onto the street. He kept walking and fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah, can we get together?”

“Sure, meet me at the coffee shop?”

“Yep, on the way.”

Zane wondered if it would ever get easier.

He walked into the coffee shop and there she was. His savior, his lifeline.

“Hey, Zane.” Betsy was his sponsor in Grandy City. They’d met at his very first meeting. She’d moved here a few weeks ago to be near family. For that Zane was very grateful. He needed her, his sponsor.

“Hey there Betsy. Couldn’t wait until Sunday evening.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“What set you off?”

“Pain.” He pointed to his bum shoulder.

“Ah, that will do it.” Zane flipped his coffee cup right side up, and a waitress walked over to their table to fill it.

“I’m going to have to gut it out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t risk surgery again. And I’m afraid they’re going to say surgery.”

“Did you lie?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“It’s a dangerous position for you. We’re not supposed to lie. Lying is how the old life works, not this one.”

“If I don’t lie they’ll want to do surgery, they’ll figure out what happened to me after the last time. I’ll lose my future because of my past.”

“I get it. But you have to know when you lie about one thing it just gets easier to lie about another thing.”

“I know.”

Betsy was eight years past her last pill. She knew stuff, a lot of stuff about how to walk this line, Zane thought. But she didn’t know what it was like to break into the 21C with a truckload of secrets. He had that market cornered.

Zane knew he needed Betsy as his sponsor, he needed the meetings, he needed all of the stuff he thought was stupid a year ago. He couldn’t do this part alone. He would relapse. He’d learned that the hard way. Every aspect of the program was a necessity. All of it helped him breathe through the pain. All of it helped him stop reaching for relief in a way that could end everything.

His physical addiction to pills had gone away, but the hell of it was he still wanted them. He still knew how much they could help. His wanted them before he tweaked his shoulder knocking out Dominic Sanchez in front of the big wigs. The pain had only gotten more intense and the desire to stop it stronger. So, he was here with Betsy.

The 21C, just like most professional sports leagues, tested for all types of banned substances. If he slipped up, took something, even something prescribed, they’d find it. It was a quick trip from one pill for one day to scamming doctors, scoring oxy from Vinnie’s connections, and worse, much worse.

“So, what? You going to come clean to your new bosses?” Betsy wasn’t pushing, but that was a core element of recovery, being truthful.

“How about just you and I be honest. That’s the honesty I can afford right now. Then maybe after I win a belt, and have my first big payday, I’ll tell them a little more.”

“You’re putting a lot of weight on that one shoulder.” Betsy knew what had started Zane’s addiction. He knew what started hers. The middle-aged mother of three and the young fighter had nothing in common when it came to their day to day life. But they both knew what addiction meant and how it could destroy everything in its path.

She’d moved to Grand City for her kids. Her ex-husband had custody. Betsy was trying to prove she could stay clean and be responsible for her kids.

Zane was motivated by the 21C, and she was motivated to repair her family. They both reminded each other of that motivation as often as needed. Today he needed it a lot.

Zane had to remind himself that he wasn’t cursed, dammit. He had this under control. The evidence of that was the fact that he reached out to Betsy. He’d done what he needed in his fight against Sanchez. It was on the books. More than anything else he’d made it through the last hour.

Sometimes one day at a time was too much of a commitment. Maybe today it was one minute at a time.

“Don’t get cocky. You know it still has us. All of us.”

“Don’t get cocky? That’s half my job.” He smiled at her, and she shook her head at him.

“We’re all one step away from being enslaved again.”

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“I met a girl.”

“Oh yeah, tell me about her. Gorgeous, I suppose?”

“Naturally.”

“Yeah, the girls like those movie star looks you got until they get to know you.”

Besty was like a big sister. She could give him shit. She could call him out, and he knew her heart was in the right place. He did the same for her.

“True. So very true.”

They finished sipping their coffee, and it was Betsy’s turn to lean on him.

“Carl is letting me go to the big year-end recital.” Betsy’s eyes lit up when she talked about her kids. She was a good mother before it all went wrong.

“That’s huge progress! Congrats.”

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Maybe you can even bring Tray to a fight one of these days if I keep winning, that is.”

“Baby steps Zane, but yeah, that would be great. And you’ll keep winning.” She was a good cheerleader.

“So will you Bets, so will you.” Zane felt calm, centered, and better about his strength to fight his addiction. He’d won this round, for today, for now.

Zane was experienced in knockouts. His addiction was no different than an opponent. He’d beat it, he had beat it. No matter how many times he faced it.