Chapter 20
The atmosphere in the club was hot and the adrenaline of the fight was racing through everyone, whether they were fighting or not. The fight was minutes away and Ace's head was in the game. He had made his decision. He was going to follow through with his plan, and the consequences would follow him, for better or for worse. He tightened his muscles and exhaled, knowing the shit-storm that was yet to come.
Ten years of his life was spent in that dump. Ten years of his life working for Cruz and never doubting his choices. Until now. Until Christie.
Ace found himself wondering whether or not he would have questioned anything this deeply, if not for Christie. Would he have had a look at the courses on the computer? Would he have signed up for any? Would he have thought about a future beyond fighting? Would he have considered, even for a moment, the possibility of walking away? Or would he have stayed here and rotted, never knowing until it was much, much too late. Ace wasn’t sure. He stepped forward and shook his head, settling his thoughts. It was almost time.
His phone rang, and broke him out of his reverie. A few rings in, shuddering and loud in his ears, and he reached to pick it up, feeling the irritation moving through him, tense and tight.
“Hello?”
He knew he sounded distracted, but he had a fight in mere moments. Usually he would have left his phone off and in his locker, but it had become habit to keep it on him at all times now. He sighed and waited for the response, wishing he hadn’t answered.
“Hi, Ace. I just wanted to say thank you.” It was Christie. She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice, “It’s all worked out. The story was such a hit. Thank you so much!”
Relief and joy flooded him like a wave and he found himself grateful for picking up. He had needed to hear that. It strengthened his resolve and he tightened his fists. She was okay, she was safe and she’d be fine.
“It was? I’m glad.” Something in his voice sounded flat, on edge, and dull. He was happy, but there was something else on his mind. He didn’t mean to found disinterested, but this was something he had to take seriously. He saw people moving, his competitor on the other side. After a moment, he spoke again, “You got the job, then?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I have the job now.” She smiled, the reality of it still hitting her all at once.
Warmth blossomed in his chest at her words. He thought of her smile and he felt happiness inside him, even though he was about to walk into the ring. She was worth it. She was worth all of this and more.
Ace then saw his opponent. He was a big guy, solid and younger than Ace, but that only meant that he was less experienced. Ace knew that he could take him on easily.
“I’m glad, Christie, I really am.” A bell rang and Ace knew it was time to enter the ring, to get into the fight of his life, “Look, I have to go. Good luck and I hope I see your name in the papers, okay?”
He meant it. If he lived long enough to see that, it would be a miracle. With a deep breath, Ace stretched his shoulders, set his jaw and stepped into the ring.
This was it: do or die. He either made his choice now, or rotted away into nothing.
This was the most important fight of his career. He had to make it count.
***
The first blow of the fight came as a shock. Ace took an unexpectedly quick uppercut to the head that knocked him off his feet. Okay. So this kid was fast. Ace made a note of it and threw himself aside, easily avoiding the next blow.
It wasn’t easy. But that was okay. Ace never liked his easy fights anyway. He enjoyed a real challenge. With a quick shift of his body, he sent the kid sprawling on the floor. He ducked quickly and then he landed a well-timed blow to the kid's face. After a few more blows, a large welt grew under the kid's left eye. . A right cross by Ace then knocked the kid to the mat.
For a second, everyone waited with baited breath. Had the fight of the season, finished so quickly? After about a six count, Ace's opponent got up and regained his composure. Only a few seconds later, Ace was back on the defense. A well-aimed strike here, a sharp kick there, and they were going toe to toe.
Ace’s opponent looked surprised at the ferocity of Ace’s blows which were unexpected because the kid thought the fix was on, and that he was going to win. Yet, something in Ace was clearly set on fire. Ace lunged at his opponent, sending him sprawling on the floor, slamming into the mat. When he tried to get back up, Ace kicked his legs out from beneath him and send him stumbling again.
From the corner of his eye, Ace could see anger starting to blossom on Cruz’s face. Ace should have gone down by now. He should have been the one sprawling on the floor, not the one everyone was betting on to lose.
The kid still put up a fight though. When he finally recovered enough to push himself up again, his attack on Ace was unrelenting, fierce and strong. He had a burning desire to prove himself in the ring and make a name for himself.
They traded blow for blow until eventually, the underdog began to give. Steps were missed, strikes were not deflected. The fight became more brutal, more harsh, more unforgiving. Blood flowed.
The challenger got desperate and his shots got dirty, but Ace had seen it all, and gave it all he had. He had to win this fight no matter the cost. He had to break free. And when Ace landed the final blow, his opponent went down with a sickening crash. The smack of his body against the floor seemed to echo through the room, and made everyone shudder.
This time, the kid went down and stayed down, clearly knocked unconscious. Ace was the winner. The crowd roared and cheered with savage delight and from the dark corners of the room, Cruz glowered with a hatred that Ace had never seen before.
And for the first time in his life, Ace truly felt free.