ELEVEN
BERKLEY
“Where are you going?”
I sighed as I pulled a shirt on standing in our joint closet. “I told you, I’m going to that fight.”
Naomi rolled her eyes at me, “And I told you that you’re not. That is a super dangerous part of town.”
I’d memorized the address on the card and it looked it up as soon as I got home. I was going to see Dillon fight, and I prayed with every fiber of my being that he wasn’t there. I’d googled what these underground fights looked like, even found a couple Facebook pages dedicated to them. These guys were beat to a pulp, only inches from death. There was no way I was going to let Dillon throw away his career, just for a little bit of money. I didn’t care if he didn’t want me around anymore. I had this incessant need to save him, just as he had saved me.
“I will be fine. I have my phone, and if I get into trouble I’ll call 911. I’ll even keep a cab running it makes you feel better. I just have to go and make sure he’s not there. Because if he is…”
She looked at me seriously. “What are you going to do if he is there? You can’t just stop the fight. Especially with these guys. You remember those dudes in the alleyway, Berkley? There’s going to be a hundred or more guys just like those assholes that this place.”
I had thought about that, but I’d brushed it off. I hadn’t been careful that night, but tonight I would be. I had to be.
“To be honest, I don’t really know. I guess I’m hoping he’ll let me talk him out of it. And then if he wants to be done with me, that’s fine.” I’d resigned myself to this, if he really wanted it to be over as fast as it had begun, fine. But I had to repay my debt. It was the right thing to do.
Naomi shook her head at me and left our room. I could tell that she was still pissed and worried, but she knew she couldn’t stop me. Once I had set my mind to something, I always made it happen, no matter how stupid it was.
***
I took a cab over to the other side of town and even the cabbie was worried about me. “You sure this is the right address, miss?”
I nodded slowly, looking down at the address I’d written on a notepad as soon as I got home from the gym the other night. “Yes, this is it.” I looked out the window at an old, almost abandoned warehouse. Most of the windows were boarded up, but there was life inside the building. Cars lined the streets, mostly old beaters but a few nicer vehicles as well. I knew I was in the right place.
I passed my cash up to the front when the cabbie asked, “You don’t want me to keep the meter running?”
I had lied to Naomi. If Dillon was determined to fight, I’d stay and watch him. “No. I’m fine, thanks.”
I got out of the cab and zipped up my jacket. It was chilly for a spring night. Almost like the atmosphere was trying to tell me how dark and dangerous this place was. That I should have just stayed in the cab. But as it sped off, I still felt like this was what I had to do. I walked past the bouncer at the front door and he just let me glide through, something I had already learned about the fighting world. Pretty girls meant free of charge. I found a spot along the back wall and stood with my arms crossed as I watched two men inside the cage go at it. They were both bloodied and battered, with one guy grabbing the side of his body like he had broken ribs. When he removed his hand to block a punch, I saw the bruise that was quickly spreading. He definitely had broken a few. I knew that this could happen at any fight, but this guy wasn’t conceding. When the other guy hit them hard enough that he was knocked to the ground, I heard him screaming in agony, but there was no referee to stop it here. They would fight until he was out cold. Luckily for him that was only a minute later. Two big guys in black came into the ring, and pulled him up by his arms, and carried him out while the victor had his arms above his head. He had a busted eyebrow and a shoulder that looked slightly out of place, but he was happy with his win.
I scanned the crowd for Dillon, shockingly seeing his bald head near the cage just a moment later. I tried to make my way to him through the throng of people, but I didn’t get there in time. They announced his name just as I called it myself.
“Dillon!” He didn’t turn to look at me, clearly not hearing me over the roar of the crowd.
“Dillon, it’s Berkley!” This time I caught his attention. He turned to look at me with his mouth in an ‘o’ shape. He was shocked to see me there, clearly having thought I had given up after he told me to leave. I wasn’t that easy.
He walked back down the stairs and met me at the bottom. “What the hell are you doing here? Couldn’t my saving your ass once be enough?”
I shook my head, “This time it is about me saving you. You can’t do this. They could kill you!”
He puffed out his chest, “Honey, I’m Dillon Jackson. I’m unbeatable.”
A man tapped Dillon on the shoulder pointed up into the cage. He turned away and began walking back. He looked over his shoulder one more time at me before ascending the stairs. People cheered unanimously, waving their cash in the air as bookies grabbed it and asked them who they were betting on. And that’s when I heard it: “Dillon Jackson or Montegro Ramirez and Lucas Boyo?”
I grabbed a bookie by the shoulder and turned him around, “I’m sorry, what did you just say? How many guys is Dillon going against?”
The bookie smiled up at me, missing a few teeth. “Two, of course. No one man could beat him, so we’re going to find out if the double team can.”
Fuck.
I watched with terrified eyes as Dillon and two other guys entered the cage. I saw the shock written all over Dillon’s face. Clearly he didn’t know what was going on either. They descended on him like wolves. He tried to fight his way through, blocking one guy’s punches while he was on the offense of the other. But they double teamed him every chance they got, one kicking him in the back while the other assaulted his face. He finally got a good swift kick at the one in front of him which landed with his back against the metal of the cage and turned to face the other. But that just pissed off the first guy. He ran back at Jackson and hopped on his back pulling him down onto the ground with him. Jackson flailed like a bug on its back. He tried to protect his face, but the guy underneath them had him in a headlock and the one that was still standing kicked Dillon in the stomach repeatedly. The crowd went wild. I saw Dillon’s face start to go blue as the guy who had him in a headlock was squeezing too tight.
I started screaming at them, “He can’t breathe! He can’t breathe!”
But no one was listening. I did the only thing that I thought would help. I tried to climb over the ropes to get to the stairs. I would have to help him myself. Just as I was about to swing my leg over the rope, a man not much older than Dillon himself in a crisp looking suit stopped me.
“What do you think you’re doing honey? Nobody but fighters over the rope.”
I pointed at Dillon, “Those guys are going to kill him!”
He smiled at me. “Well that’s kind of the point isn’t it? Somebody has to take out the best fighter, so why not me?”
I looked at him in amazement. This had all been the plan. They didn’t just want to beat Dillon, they wanted to kill him. Just then I heard a woman’s scream from the crowd. “He ain’t moving! You killed him!”
More shouts from the crowd and I noticed as a group of people started stampeding their way to the exit. The other two fighters were nursing their wounds and walking out of the cage while Dillon lay lifelessly on the floor. The man who had been talking to me smiled and patted his guys on the back before saying, “We should get out of here. One of these people is going to call the cops.”
They moved out of my way and I sprinted up the stairs and into the cage. Dillon was a mess, blood rushing out of his nose, and it looked like his eye socket might’ve been broken. I watched helplessly for the rise and fall of his chest. He had to be alive, he just had to be.