CHAPTER 11
(KAGE)
It was fight night, my UFC debut, and for the first time I could remember, I was shaking in my boots. I was blown away by the lights and the crowd and the fact that I was really finally there. Security guards flanked me, while Jamie and Marco strutted along behind me in their Kage the Machine t-shirts. As we entered the arena to the sound of the crowd, I remember wondering if they were as blown away as I was, and if they were proud to be part of my entourage. My uncle was there, too, but I didn’t dwell on that.
I moved in a sort of adrenaline haze through the entire walk out, my blood pumping in time to the nasty buzz beat of Kanye’s I Am a God. I truly felt like a god as I approached the Octagon. I barely registered the security guards and cut men, people rubbing Vaseline around my eyes and checking to make sure I was wearing my cup.
The whole experience was surreal. Later, I would watch in wonder at my entrance, the way I ran around the perimeter of the Octagon, shadow boxing and playing to the cheering crowd, but at the time I was only vaguely aware of doing it.
Then it was happening.
Grady Larson was aggressive, I’ll give him that. The bastard came out trying to take me down. His double leg attempt nearly got me, but only because I wasn’t expecting such aggression from him after viewing his fight videos.
Mental note: do not underestimate the hunger of this guy.
He didn’t get me down, though. I widened my stance and hopped back in a tentative sprawl, ready to cover him if I had too, but he skittered away, and we faced off again. I made a hand motion inviting him to come at me again. The best way to deal with aggression like he was showing was to invite it with open arms. Show him it didn’t intimidate me.
The light in his eyes dimmed just a hair, but not enough.
While he was still reacting from my invitation, I lunged in for a jab. This time, he was the one caught off guard. He rallied and came at me with a sloppy flurry of punches, which I easily blocked. I smiled at him, trying to dim that fire in his eyes just a little bit more, and while I was smiling, I landed a stinging inside leg kick. The smack rang out, and the crowd let out a collective “Oooh.”
Music to my ears. I could definitely get used to that kind of attention. I changed my stance with a little hop and landed an impressive switch kick just to show off. The crowd sounded again.
Larson tried to come back at me with a kick to the body, but I caught his heel and shoved him back. The fire was nearly gone now, and I could see frustration taking hold of the guy. It was a good sign. Once frustration took over, the fight was nearly over.
I heard Marco’s voice, “Stop playing with him!” Santori’s voice followed. “Take him down!”
Larson came at me with a combo of punches, landing two of them, one on my cheek and one on my lip. I returned fire and caught him with a hard right as he was finishing up his combo. It was enough to rock him and make him stumble backward a couple of steps. I saw the opportunity and went for the takedown, using the momentum of his backward stumble to my advantage. We soared through the air for one prolonged second before coming down hard on the mat. He scrambled pretty well and was able to wiggle halfway out from under me, but before he could get clear, I had spun around like a monkey on his back and slipped an arm around his throat in an easy rear naked choke. “All over but the crying, baby,” I growled in his ear as I rolled onto my back and took him with me.
“He’s got it,” Marco yelled. And my uncle’s voice again, “Choke him out! Hold it! Finish him!”
Then the strangest thing happened. One minute I was squeezing Larson’s throat, threatening to cut off the blood flow to his brain if he didn’t tap out, and the next I was standing in the center of the ring with the ref holding my hand in the air. I blinked and looked around for my team, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw them smiling inside the ring, waiting to congratulate me after the customary post-fight interview.
I had dreamed of this moment.
The announcer approached me with a microphone. “Wow! You’ve won your first UFC fight in just under a minute. How does that feel?” He put the microphone in front of me.
I took a breath, looked around, and wished I’d worked up some semblance of a speech. “It feels amazing,” I said. “But I’ve got a lot more to show the fans, a lot more to show the UFC. No offense to Grady Larson, because he’s a good fighter, but if you really want to see some action, some longer fights, you’re gonna have to give me some higher-ranked opponents.”
The announcer took the microphone back. “The referee had to come in and pry you away after Larson had already tapped out three times. What happened there?”
“Yeah? He was tapping?” I glanced around, confused, wishing I had an adviser to tell me what to say. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if what he was saying was true. “Um, I didn’t feel it I guess. Maybe the excitement of my first fight, all of that adrenaline pumping. I honestly didn’t feel it.”
The announcer smiled and took the microphone back. “Well, congratulations on your win. Say goodnight to Michael Kage, everybody. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of this guy.”
And then he was gone, and it was mayhem in the Octagon. Someone was shooting photos. I was posing.
I saw Jamie inside the Octagon near the gate, standing entirely too close to my uncle. I hated the idea of Peter Santori being anywhere near Jamie. Ever.
Jamie was beaming with pride and excitement, and in that moment I wanted to wrap my arms around him and just enjoy the moment. He was the one I wanted to celebrate with the most, yet he was the one I had to practically avoid.
When he noticed I was looking at him, his smile faltered. He looked confused, like he didn’t know where his place was in this whole thing. He didn’t know if he belonged, and I felt terrible about that. It hit me that what I was doing to him was the same thing he’d done to me in front of his family, only on a larger scale. I didn’t want to be guilty of that. But I didn’t want it to be this way, anyway. Why did it have to matter who you cared about and who you slept with?
I was going to be there for him, though. He was here for me.
I made my way over to Marco and gave him a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Then I squeezed his face between my hands. “Thank you for everything,” I said.
He smiled and hugged me again. “You earned it.”
Then, only because I had to pass him as I made my way through the crowd inside the Octagon, I shook my uncle’s hand. “Santori,” I said.
“Good job,” he said, pulling me into a stiff embrace.
Jason was standing near the gate not far from Jamie, and I ran up and picked him up off the ground in a big bear hug, holding onto him for a long moment as I rocked from foot to foot, nearly bumping into the people on either side of us. Then I put him down. “Thanks for everything, man. I don’t know how I would have gotten here without a great training partner.”
He leaned back and smiled. “No problem, buddy. Like I said, I’m in it to win it.”
“Whatever that means.” I leaned in and gave him a big peck on the cheek, and he laughed.
Then it was Jamie’s turn. I figured I’d shown everyone else in my entourage enough love that what I was about to do with him wouldn’t stand out as odd.
His smile was unsure as I pushed between people to get to him, and his eyes darted away from me for a second. “Hey,” I said, walking right up in front of him and looking down into his face.
“Hey,” he said back.
We were flirting, if anyone cared to notice. I hoped like hell they didn’t.
I wrapped my arms around him and took him into a passionate embrace. When my mouth was next to his ear, I said, “You ready to get fucked by a winner?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Who did you have in mind?
I laughed and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you go to your room and wait and see? I heard he’s hung like a horse and has a thing for sexy college boys in glasses.”
This time he hugged me, pressing his lips up next to my ear. “Thanks for letting me be here, Kage. I’m so proud of you.”
“I wish I could kiss you on the lips,” I said, letting go of him. It was time for me to leave the Octagon to make room for the next fight. As I walked down through the crowd, hands grasped at me. People wanted me to pose for photos, and I probably leaned up against the barrier and had my picture taken with twenty people on my way out.
It was glorious, everything I’d worked for. And it felt almost perfect.