Two Weeks Page 20

"What a punch! Could this turn out to be the night that the unstoppable is stopped? How far can the giant Juggernaut fall?"

  I join in with the chorus of boos, hoping to see Jackson regain his fervor. As he gets back into position, Goliath charges him again. He takes a jab in the stomach and then a kick to his thigh, losing his balance.

  "What the hell are you doing in there?" I scream, slamming my hands against the metal chair so hard that they sting. I bring them up and notice they are actually marked red, but barely notice any pain. I'm not concerned about that right now. "Take him down!"

  Jackson straightens his body, but by the time he does, he's hit by another punch to the jaw, and this time, I see blood flying through the air. He tumbles toward the mat and lands with a sickening thud. He wasn't blocking well, and even I could see it.

  "Ladies and gentleman, the Juggernaut is coming down. What a punch! He's falling apart. Brick by brick, he crumbles!"

  Oh, God. I start panicking. This doesn't seem like such a minor thing anymore.

  This is my fault. He's under-trained because I've been taking up his time. We've had too much sex and I've drained his testosterone levels to nothing and now he's paying for it. I fed him junk food last night. I'm the worst person on the planet.

  This guy is gonna kill him, and it's all because of me.

  The bell dings and Jackson is already back on his feet. I try to calm myself down. He's still standing, I remind myself. This is a fight. They are supposed to fight at those, even if it's hard to watch.

  "Jug-ger-naut! Jug-ger-naut!" The crowd chants as Jackson douses himself with his water bottle. I can't chant though, not right now. I'm not nearly as optimistic as they are. Only five more minutes left.

  Another ding begins the third round and Goliath charges again. So predictable. I close my eyes tightly, nervously awaiting the impact. I don't hear anything definitive, and so I reopen my eyes. Jackson is blocking every punch as if he's suddenly come back to life.

  And then, he sends a seriously intense fist flying toward Goliath's head, nailing him right in the jaw. By the way the poor guy reacts, it's like he was shot, not punched. And based on how fast Jackson's fist moved, it may have actually been flying at the same speed as a bullet. I hear that sickening crack again, but this time, it doesn't bother me so much.

  Goliath's body goes limp while still being upright. Everything happens in slow motion. His head is still tilted from the punch he received. I see his face, and if his eyes were open, he'd be staring right at me. A small stream of blood trickles from his mouth.

  And then, Jackson finishes the deed. I don't even notice the crowd in that moment.

  I angle my head just in time to catch Jackson's right jab into Goliath's gut. His spine curves horizontally into an exaggerated U-shape, and then he goes down.

  "My God, ladies and gentleman! What a comeback!"

  The crowd roars. Goliath falls toward the mat. Jackson remains trained on him like a guard dog ready to strike the throat.

  Down Goliath goes until he lands with a thud, sending spittle and blood everywhere. The powerful lights make the fluid spectacle a little clearer than I'd like.

  He's down—and he stays there.

  "The Juggernaut topples Goliath—and he didn't use a slingshot, folks! He did it with his bare hands! It's epic, it's electrifying, hell, it's biblical!"

  I giggle at the description and start screaming my head off. Jackson is smiling with the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever seen. He raises his fist into the air and everyone goes absolutely nuts. I'm so excited I feel like I might explode. I guess I see why all these people scream now.

  "Introducing the new light heavyweight regional champion, Jackson 'Juggernaut' Ames!" The announcer hands Jackson a gold-colored belt and he immediately hoists it into the area and lets out a celebratory roar. It's so loud that the announcer's microphone picks it up.

  The ring girls come up to him on both sides, wrapping their arms around his back. Flashes from cameras go off like crazy. Once again, I push away a pang of jealous. That's what they're there for—to look pretty and stand around next to hot-as-hell, ultra buff fighters.

  I look around to see nearly every hand in the air behind me. The girls with the sign are still holding it—but it's in two pieces now, torn down the center. I guess they just wanted to share it.

  "Jug-ger-naut! Jug-ger-naut! Jug-ger-naut!" Everyone chants and now, I join them. I'm too overcome by sheer bliss to realize that I'll probably never experience this same excitement again since I'm leaving next week.

  But that sort of thinking isn't for now. This is a celebration. Jackson kicked some ass. He's got me more riled up than ever. God, I can't wait until we're alone later tonight.

  The crowd continues cheering until Jackson finally departs the stage. This time, the fist bumps and masses of crawling hands are multiplied by a hundred. I worry that the crowd will literally suck him up and devour him.

  He's okay though. He's just celebrating. He's signing autographs. He's at the top of his game and people want to share that moment with him.

  In the background, I notice Goliath stirring and it makes me happy to know that he's not dead. People are helping him to his feet, and he's coming to life again. His face is pretty swollen, but he'll survive.

  11

  Jackson

  The shower feels more like it's for extinguishing me than it is for cleaning. This is absolutely nuts. I can't believe how insane it made me feel to have Ally watching from the sidelines.

  I've been a crowd favorite for a while, but the transmutation from regular guy to superhero has been difficult for me. Tonight, I was soaking it all up and kicking ass, all because of her. I haven't ever felt like I've had a reason to fight; it's just been something I do.

  Since my parents died, it's all been automatic, a mindless execution of routines that keep me going instead of wallowing in confused solitude.

  The shower feels good, and I think about Ally's expression the whole time. God, she was so fucking sexy when she got riled up. That look of intensity on her face while she screamed only served to remind me of how she looks when she comes.

  I think it's a fair comparison.

  I rush through the shower because I realize I need to make my rounds for the fans.

  Plus, Ally's waiting for me.

  I grab my bag out of the locker and I get dressed as quickly as I can.

  "Great fight tonight, Juggernaut." I hear that familiar, grating voice from behind me. It's Vince.

  "Thanks, Vince. I know you really mean it."

  He lets out a hollow laugh that's even worse than his phony approval. "You're such a hero. Such a tough guy."

  I'm in a great mood, and I'm not about to let this prick ruin it. I stand up and approach him. "Vince, what the fuck do you want from me? I'm nearly thirty years old. I don't need this schoolyard bullshit from you just because I beat you fair and square months ago."

  "Fuck you, Ames," he flares. "It wasn't fair and square. You were jacked up on 'roids."

  He's got a point, but barely since the league never expressly forbid their usage. And I, like many others, used them for a short time. However, that wasn't the case when I fought him.

  "I was clean then," I retort. "You have my word. You lost, fair and square. I'm not gonna lie—I used 'em for a while. But not when I fought you. With you, I didn't need them." I give him a cocky smile and back away.

  "Just fight me outside of the ring," he says. "If you win, fine. But I know you cheated somehow. And I'm gonna figure it out."

  I scoff at him. "Enough of these fucking games, Vince. Get lost." He's driving me nuts.

  He turns around and walks away, mumbling as he departs. "It's just one fight, Ames. One fight."

  Todd enters just as Vince leaves, totally missing the whole interaction. "Awesome job tonight, Jackson. If ticket sales are as good as I think they are, I might just break even." He gives me a high five and his enthusiasm boosts my mood after Vince's verbal attack. "And can you please g
ive me a decision on that contract? You're the best I've got. We could make a ton of money together. And you just keep getting better. I can't believe how you worked that crowd."

  I shake my head. "I'll take a look at it, Todd, I promise. I just wanna relax now, not worry about business."

  "Fair enough," he says. "Are you coming out for drinks?"

  Somehow, I've totally forgotten about the usual post-fight routine. "Maybe. I'll check with Ally. We're heading out of town early tomorrow morning."

  "Is Ally the girl you walked in with? Are you guys going steady or something?" He gives me an awkward look that's distinctly Todd, and easy for me to excuse for that reason.

  "Going steady?" I ask incredulously. "Who says that anymore?"

  Todd laughs. "I don't know what I was thinking. You're making me feel seriously old here.”

  "C'mon, Todd. You're only forty-five and you said your grandma lived to be ninety-five. You've still got at least fifty more years." I smirk hard.

  "Shit, well, I don't know if I can handle fifty more years of this. Good to know though." He laughs. "But about the girl—it would be good for you to settle down for sure. It's nice having an anchor in this business. I've seen plenty of guys burn out from the drugs and the groupies and the fame. If you want to go far, you've got to keep your head on straight."

  "It's nothing serious," I say. "Just a little summertime fling." I dodge his other remarks because I really meant it when I said I didn't feel like discussing business right now.

  "Call it whatever you want," he says, "as long as you're happy. I gotta run though. I hope to see you out there tonight."

  "Sure," I say, waving to him as he leaves.

  I pack up my bag and slam the locker shut. As I exit the locker room area, there's a much larger crowd than usual waiting at the sideline for autographs. Some of the girls are really attractive, but when I notice Ally in the background, I can't even start to think about them, even in a superficial way. She waves to me and it feels like time stops—just for a second.

  "Jackson! Can we have your autograph?"

  "Can I get a picture, Juggernaut?"

  Their cries remind me of my endless duties as an entertainer. But Ally's approaching me, and she definitely takes precedence.

  "Hey, stud," she says, gently nibbling her lip. Oh God, my mind is already in the gutter.

  "Hi, Ally," I say quietly. "How was I?"

  "The most awesomest awesome fighter I've ever seen." She nods to give the statement more weight.

  I cock an eyebrow. "And how many fights have you been to again?"

  She gives me an innocent, crippling smile. "Just one. This one. I got really worried though. I thought he was going to beat you at one point."

  I can't help laughing. "I did that on purpose to add a little drama. Nobody wants to see a fight that ends in five seconds."

  Ally smiles. "You're so humble. But you've got fans waiting for you, Juggernaut. Go take care of them and I'll wait here."

  "Oh, right," I say. I had actually forgotten about them. "Here." I hand her my bag and she carries it back over to the seats while I engage my adoring fans.

  I sign autographs until my hand hurts and take photos until the flash is etched into my eyeballs semi-permanently. If more of this is what a contract with Todd will guarantee, then I'll probably pass.

  When the scores of fans finally head out, I make my way back to Ally. "Damn, that's exhausting," I say.

  "Must be a real shame to have people look up to you like that," she says.

  I laugh. "Maybe next time I'll have you sign the autographs for me. I'm sure some of the guys would have preferred you over me."

  "Maybe," she says. "So are we going out then?"

  "How do you know about that?" I ask. "I'm exhausted."

  "Todd came over while you were signing stuff. You didn't see him?"

  "Well, I'm temporarily blinded from all the flashes," I say. "I can barely see you right now."

  "It'll go away soon." She looks off into the distance. "Todd really wants you to come out. He's so proud of you. I think we should have a couple drinks to celebrate."

  I'm thankful that she doesn't bring up the contract because I'm certain Todd mentioned it, hoping that he'd win her over and then get her to work on me next. He can be ruthless like that. "Okay, just a few," I say. "I'd really like to get you home and then..."

  Ally cuts me off. "Oh, I feel the same way. Believe me." Our eyes lock and I wish that I could bend her over right here and fuck her brains out—but I'll have to wait.

  She takes my arm and we stroll out of the building together. We always drink at a low-key place called the Oasis, one that's only a few blocks away.

  The same place I took Dan last week where I... I catch myself quickly.

  We go inside and take a seat in the huge booth near some of the friendlier fighters I know. I introduce Ally to some of the guys and then get a round of beers for the table. I'm happy to see that she genuinely seems to be enjoying herself around these testosterone junkies. We all goof around and chat until Todd finally shows up about an hour later, his face totally haggard.

  "What's up, Todd?" I ask.

  "Oh, nothing. Just packed an entire amateur MMA event into a trailer. I need a drink, bad." He sneaks over to the bar and comes back with a beer. Within seconds, he's seamlessly joined our conversation.

  At one point during the night, Goliath comes over and shakes my hand, congratulating me on the victory. His face looks less swollen than it did after the match. Ally's expression of shock is priceless.

  "Great job out there tonight, Jackson. Thought I had you."

  "I can't believe what I'm seeing," she says sharply. "Don't you want to kick his ass or something?" Everyone laughs, including me.

  "We actually get along, unlike certain other people here," I say, gesturing toward Vince and his crew. "This is Mike, by the way." Mike shakes Ally's hand.

  "Is Vince still giving you a hard time?" Todd asks after a big gulp of beer. "I don't know why I even let him stay in the league. I should just boot him out and end this bullshit. He's a nutjob."

  "No," I say. "He'll feed off that. He already thinks I’m a cheater."

  "Well, you say the word and it's done. I promise you that."

  I nod and return to my beer.

  "I like these guys," Ally whispers in my ear.

  "Well, good. I'm glad that any Ivy Leaguer like you is enjoying her time with a bunch of burly men that willingly beat each other up every week."

  She starts laughing and her cheeks flush red. It's insanely cute. "I never thought I'd be here, but I am—and I actually like it." She puts her hand over my own under the table and her fingers seem to fit between mine perfectly. The sensation—imagined or real—drives me crazy.

  Ally has a couple more drinks, but I restrain myself so that I can drive. And I'm still enjoying the adrenaline rush from before. I'm actually happy that I decided to come out tonight because the vibe is great.

  Finally, around midnight, we decide to call it quits and say goodbye to everyone at the table. Most of them will be here until the bar closes, but not me. I feel frazzled and I'm ready to get home.

  And Ally's got her hands all over me under the table and I know I won't be able to resist her much longer. I think that's the biggest problem, actually.

  "I'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick," she says.

  "Okay. I'll meet you outside."

  I step out of the bar and into the cool night, walking around the building toward the parking lot. It's reasonably cool, the perfect summer temperature, one that feels comfortable without a jacket. After so much heat in the bar, it's a nice change.

  There's a group of guys standing by the edge of the building smoking and passing around a bottle of whiskey, but I'm not sure who they are.

  And then one of them shouts.

  "How's her pussy, Juggernaut? Tight enough for you?" I know that voice—Vince. That fucking creep.

  I feel the rage boiling inside of
me. It's not that he's actually saying anything substantial, because it's clearly just a callow attempt to piss me off. I don't like that he knows about Ally at all—and I especially don't want her to hear this idiocy.

  He's probably been staring at her the whole night, undressing her with his eyes, and definitely not stopping once she's undressed.

  Ugh.

  He's also drunk. His words are slurred as hell. I realize how volatile this situation is. I'm like one of those guys sent in to defuse a bomb, and there's a rainbow of colored wires in front of me.

  And I don't know where to start.

  "Vince, knock it off. You've got no right to talk like that."

  He's surrounded by his posse, a posse I'm not sure how he assembled since his attitude is so rotten and toxic. Maybe these are old friends of his. Only one of them looks familiar.

  "Did I strike a nerve or something? Don't want me talking about your girl?" He snickers and I really want to punch his lights out. And it would be easy too. Much easier than keeping my cool.

  I stand my ground, but I don't say anything. I just stare back, hoping that Ally doesn't come out of the bar right now.

  "Why don't you fight me?" His friends step out of the way as he approaches me. "C'mon, give it your best shot, tough guy. Let's settle the score right now. Mano-a-mano."

  Vince rapidly struts toward me and I'm nervous that he's about to go into full-blown attack mode. If he does—and they're as loyal to him as they look—I might be in big trouble. I won't have a choice but to physically defend myself.

  He's wobbly as hell, far drunker than any man ought to be in a situation like this. I hear laughter coming from behind him. I drop my bag to the side and remain firm in my position.

  "Don't do this, Vince. Just stop. I don't want any trouble."

  My words don't slow him down.

  "What, you don't think I can take you?" His inebriation has left him totally obsessed with this macho, competitive bullshit. He steps even closer to me.

  Oh God, please don't come out now, Ally...

  My heart pounds in my chest; I can almost hear it.

  In the cage, it's totally different. Here, none of the rules apply. There is no referee, no crowd to witness the spectacle. I want to flee the situation, but all my hours of training leave my body biased toward actually disarming him so he can't hurt somebody else.