Page 155 of Repairing the Wreckage

Side stage, Jordan stops us. A different producer lines the other guys up. “Each seating placement has a number on the back that’s not visible to the audience,” the new guy shouts. “I’ll hand you your number and you’ll sit in the corresponding seat. Everyone clear?”

We give him some version of yes.

“Ladies, you’ll met your men and sit next to them.”

Molly and Kelly share a look but don’t say anything.

I search backstage but don’t see any sign of Naptime, Kiki, or any of the other ring girls.

Jordan walks down the line, saying a few words to each fighter.

He stops in front of us last. “Now, Molly’s going to stay here and then we’ll call her out after your intro,” he says.

Molly’s scared eyes meet mine.

I glare at Jordan. “I think the fuck not.”

“It’ll be five minutes, tops.” He glances behind him. “Kelly will be with her.”

Molly blows out a breath and flashes a brave smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Atta girl.” Jordan pats her shoulder.

I hold Molly’s hand while we wait.

Bright lights spill from the stage to the hallway. Matt’s annoying voice echoes through a microphone. Music pumps through the speakers.

One by one, in the order we’d been sent home, each fighter walks onto the stage and takes a seat in their designated spot. The audience cheers and claps a respectable amount for each guy. But when Venom trots out, they explode into cheers and whistles. He grins and waves back.

“Let’s welcome Griffin ‘Stonewall’ Royal back!” Matt shouts.

I lean down and kiss Molly. “Five minutes.”

She nods quickly. “Go, go.”

I walk out and the roar is deafening. The stadium-like seats in front of the stage are full of people. To my right a group starts chanting something that I can’t quite make out with all the other noise. It seems positive, so I lift my hand and wave in that direction. The blinding lights don’t let me actually see individual people. More like a blur of blobs and colorful shapes.

A long white couch has the number two taped to the back of it right at the end. I almost keep walking, then remember that’s where I’m supposed to park my ass.

I hope that entrance looked smoother than it felt.

The couch looks plush but feels like the back is made of concrete. I settle in and flash a smile into the bright lights. As the adoration from the crowd continues, heat crawls over my cheeks. This didn’t happen to anyone else.

Venom reaches over and slaps my leg a few times. “They like you.”

I smile and nod like a bobblehead but can’t think of anything to say besides, “I guess so.”

Matt stares at me. With his permanently frozen face, it’s hard to tell what he expects me to do.

I turn my head to the right and spot Molly backstage. She flashes me two thumbs-up and claps her hands. To the left there seems to be another backstage area. I catch Naptime standing at the edge with an angry scowl etched into his face.

I don’t want to look like that sullen dickhead. Reluctantly, I stand and wave to the audience who’s still impossible to see beyond the glare.

Finally, Matt decides to move the show along and asks everyone to settle down.

Relieved the pressure’s off, I drop into my seat. We’ve got ten other guys out here, no reason to keep so much attention on me.

“And finally, the winner of season one of Supreme Underground Fighter…”

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