CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cherry
Inhale.
I splashed cold water from the gym bathroom faucet on my face then looked in the bathroom mirror, trying to calm my nerves.
Exhale.
It didn’t work.
After two weeks of careful prep and basically running myself ragged training, the first weekend of March and the day of my fight against Roberto De La Matta was finally here.
Focus.
Inhale. Exhale.
Everything will fall into place.
I had never fought so hard to improve or put my body through such hellish workouts. But I could feel that a lot had changed. I’d thought I was in great shape before, but apparently, that was just the tip of the iceberg. I could not wait to see what results Andre could pull out of me after a few more months.
I took one more quick look in the mirror at what might be the last glimpse of my unbattered face. After the fight, I knew I could be sporting some bruising for a while.
You can do this.
I could feel it in my bones — I was going to make waves tonight.
I gave myself a nod then headed back out to the gym. Caleb had offered to pick me up at my house to take me to the fight, but I’d suggested meeting on common ground instead, for a mix of reasons.
One, was that I just didn’t want him infringing on my world that much. My house was my safe haven, tucked away from the whole fighting scene that I had thrown myself into.
Second was that my trip in the silence of the car that Caleb insisted pick me up had become a vital part of my fight prep. It gave me a solid twenty minutes —twenty minutes was precious when you had four younger siblings — of just listening to my music, focusing on my breathing and envisioning the day. No one talked to me or teased me mercilessly. It was my time. Skipping that time right before what might be the biggest fight of my life just didn’t seem like a good idea.
“You ready?” Caleb asked from where he was waiting at the receptionist desk.
He was dressed in a fitted shirt that showed more of his muscle mass than his usual suit. With jeans throwing him into a much more casual look than I was used to, it was a hundred percent unfair how delicious he looked. I wanted to run my hands through his hair to feel just how thick I knew it was and bury my nose in the crook of his shoulder until I could breathe nothing but his scent.
Inhale. Exhale.
I settled for a curt nod. “By all means, lead the way.”
His responding nod was just as short, and then I was following him outside. We got into his car without another word, and then he was carefully pulling away from the curb. As I watched him, it seemed as if his eyes scanned the sidewalks on either side of the street, stopping on each pedestrian, assessing them briefly.
“You’re looking for her,” came out of my mouth before I could stop it.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, squeezing it so hard I half expected it to break in two.
When he didn’t respond, I said, “I’m sorry. I—”
“Yes.” He let out a long sigh. “It’s a habit. I’ve been looking for so long, it just became second nature to scan the streets. I guess in the back of my mind I’m still looking. Hoping. She’s my sister, I still have hope. Sometimes that’s all I have.”
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat, and managed to croak, “Hope is good.”
He frowned. “Or hope can suck when it has you shackled to the past.”
Silence descended over the car, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It amazed me, the highs and lows I’d hit with Caleb. Some moments were so charged with sexual tension that I just wanted to grab him by his expensive suit lapels and kiss him stupid. Some of our moments were peaceful, comfortable even in a way it would be with a friend I had known forever. This was a deeper moment. The kind where a confidence had been shared with the trust that it would go no further. It made me shift in my seat. I didn’t know if I wanted Caleb to expect anything out of me besides a good fight, one I was more than happy to give him.
I watched the buildings pass as we cruised along. It didn’t take long for us to arrive at Broadbent Arena, but the parking certainly wasn’t easy because the arena was inside the fairgrounds, which usually had multiple events going on the weekends. We bypassed the main lot, parking near the back entrance in a VIP spot. We were early, in plenty of time for final check-in and warm-up as well as whatever other prep a camera crew might or might not need. I wondered just how jam-packed it would be once most of the spectators arrived.
We got out, and I went to open the rear passenger door to grab my bag, but before I could, Caleb had already taken it out and slung the strap over his shoulder.
“You just worry about the fight,” he said matter-of-factly before striding past me.
Once more, I found myself nearly jogging in order to keep up with him, but I didn’t mind. It would make easing into my warm-up that much more seamless and took my mind off the nerves that wanted to rise to the surface and choke me.
We reached a security checkpoint, and a strapping man with a clipboard stepped forward. “Name?”
“Cherry Bomb,” I answered, holding out the blue card I’d been given at the sign-up.
Caleb shifted, as if hearing my fighter name out loud was uncomfortable to him.
“Cherry Bomb?” The man took my card, looking impressed and a little doubtful as he compared it to whatever was on his clipboard. “Huh, what do you know. You’re third tonight. Seven p.m. estimate. You’ll be greeted by an attendant inside.” He stepped out of the way and gave a head tilt. “Best of luck.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the card back and striding past him.
“Be safe,” he said with a worried look.
“I’ll try my best.” When he was out of earshot, I turned to Caleb. “Problem?”
“No, you were quite professional there.” Caleb scanned the area and headed for the room with my name written on a piece of paper taped on the door.
“Thanks.” I scanned his face, trying to read him. “What else?” I felt like there was something behind the comment. Caleb never said anything just to say it. That was part of what I found so damn attractive about him.
“It’s just that Cherry Bomb sounds a bit too sexual.”
I stopped and took in his frown, laughing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Caleb was exhibiting jealousy or possessiveness. “Sexual? As in, pop the cherry?”
He rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together. Then he met my eyes and the electricity between us zapped me in the forehead. “Or blast through that cherry. Or suck on a cherry.”
I took a shaky breath, and my eyes scanned his face to see if he was joking, and I saw there was indeed a devilish smile there. Huh, he was messing with me. How very much unlike him.
I decided to gloss over that topic and started toward the room. I needed to focus on the fight, not on the explosive desire I felt every time Caleb was in the same building. “I’m only professional when I need to be, and I don’t have to be with you.”
“So, you’re saying I see the real side of you?”
“I guess so.”
His smirk only grew broader. “Good to know.”
I opened my mouth to ask what he meant by that, but an attendant rushed up to us and whisked me into the dressing room.
“I’m Kasey, and I’ll be here to help you until your fight is over and you go home. And what a treat you are. You’re the only woman who auditioned and got past the requirements.”
I tried to smile a greeting. “Really. That surprises me.” I hoped it was just because there wasn’t a woman who wanted to challenge, and not that Roberto’s team had refused women who couldn’t give him a ten-grand bribe. If I did well enough in this, it would hopefully be a step toward women fighters getting the respect they deserved.
I reminded myself not to get ahead of things. I had to actually do well in the fight before I could pave the way for my fellow ladies in gloves, and my boxing still wasn’t really where it should be. Why couldn’t an MMA fighter have pulled this kind of stunt?
The next thing I knew, the attendant was gone, and Caleb came in. It was almost time for me to warm up. The dressing room had a clean, plush mat on the floor as well as a water stand, and a sports drink setup. Feeling more self-conscious than usual, I sat down on the mat and started stretches, trying not to glance at Caleb while I did so.
But I could feel his eyes on me. They were always on me, or at least it seemed like it. The sensation just made me want to impress him.
“You can do this.”
I looked up, surprised at his words of encouragement. Ever since our roll in the ring, he’d kept pretty mum, with most of our interactions professional, minus the time we ran into each other while I was wearing nothing but a sheet.
“I know,” I answered, giving him a sure smile. “But thank you for the positive reinforcement.”
He scoffed lightly. “Remember… confidence, not cockiness.”
“I find the difference between those is underestimating how much your opponent can hurt you.” I bent into my stretch. “Trust me, I know how much this guy can hurt me. The thing is, he doesn’t know just how much I can hurt him back.”
Caleb seemed to like that because a full grin broke out on his face. “It will be fun to see him find out.”
“Yeah, it will.”
He nodded, his expression satisfied. “I’m going to scope out the ring and the coaches’ area. Naturally, I’ll be at the side of the ring, but I probably won’t be right by the ropes. Backers don’t particularly need to be caught on camera right in the action. Andre should be here any minute.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you when the fight is over?” A tiny bit of hope lifted out at the end of my sentence. I needed to stop that.
“I certainly hope so.” A frown wrinkled his forehead. “Otherwise, we have drastically miscalculated the situation here.”
He was right. There was always the possibility that I would be knocked out cold and carried out of the ring. I wouldn’t allow that to happen. After he left, I ramped up my warm-up ritual to Andre status. Once I didn’t have Caleb’s banter to distract me, my heart rate spiked, and I started to sweat. This was happening. This was really happening.
After years of fighting in busted up parking garages or abandoned warehouses, I was fighting a professional in a legal fight that was going to be on television. If Dad was alive, I knew he would be proud. I just wished he was around to see me make a name for myself. Me a professional fighter while Sage was a future college graduate? He would have been tickled absolutely pink.
Then again, if Dad was alive, who knew if I would have found this path. It was hard to say, considering the twists and turns that life liked to wind itself in. And I was wasting far too much mental energy on “what ifs,” when I needed to focus on what was now.
And what was now, was the fight.
When I surfaced from warming up, the murmur of hundreds of voices talking idly filtered in. Flicking on the TV in the room, I saw that they had a live feed to the string of fights beginning in the arena. It must’ve been some sort of simulcast so fighters or executives could stay on top of things without having to go ringside. Continuing with my warm-up, I watched intently as the stadium geared up for Roberto’s first fight of the night.
I had watched plenty of videos of the man’s fights during my two-week surge, but it was an entirely different thing to see it live. There was an electricity in the air, a sort of breathless excitement that happened any time there was a large crowd that was enthusiastic about a live event. My adrenaline surged, and my heart began pumping like I was running a marathon.
Andre came in as the first bell was ringing and planted himself in a chair. Once the fight started, Coach immediately pointed out different move sets and strategies of Roberto’s while I jumped rope. I tried to absorb as much as I could, but most of it was just rehashing what he had already drilled into my head during our prep.
I could feel time rushing forward, and it seemed like just a handful of minutes later that both of the fights and the intermissions between them were over.
It was my turn.
My already free-flowing adrenaline went ape shit wild. A mixture of laughter and cheering, my name being called, was already coming from the audience. Had some of my fans from the underground heard I was fighting here and shown up? I could only hope so. I was about to make them either very proud or wish that they had never heard of Cherry Bomb.
I could hear the video Caleb’d had made for the charity of my choice. I’d chosen to highlight his efforts with Good Samaritan and the kind of people they helped, and what they needed to expand. He’d helped me so much, bolstered my family and my mama with his sponsorship that there had really been no choice. I knew he believed his sister was out there, hurting, and I couldn’t not help any way I could.
Then the announcer belted out my name with all the pomp and circumstance that you might expect. My intro music started, Coach slapped me on the back, and I made my legs move.
Jogging down the hall through the flashing of cameras, the noise was what hit me first, so many voices — cheering, jeering — the music loud enough to burst eardrums. But then, the ring came into view, and nothing else mattered.
This was it. Do or die time.
And I certainly had no plans to die tonight.