Page 166 of Repairing the Wreckage

A huge guy that looks like he was carved out of boulders lunges out of his seat and runs toward the stage, cursing at Naptime. Two equally large security guards jump into action, capturing him before he gets too close. Another security guard bear-hugs Naptime and drags him back to his chair next to Kiki.

“Everyone, calm down,” Matt says. “Phew, well, I guess that explains my next question.”

Matt focuses on me.

Shit. I don’t want to accuse Naptime of cheating. I know what he did was underhanded. The audience seems to know it. But saying it just makes me look bad.

“Well, Griff, as you know Mike ‘Magic’ Everson has issued a challenge for you to fight him in Vegas,” Matt says with that fake, game show announcer voice I’ve grown to despise.

Molly’s body goes rigid.

Fuck me. I’ve been so focused on this reunion, I didn’t mention the Vegas fight to her yet. It’s not even a sure thing.

“I’m aware of the challenge,” I say carefully.

“He said it’s because out of all these Supreme Fighters, you were the best. ‘An absolute savage in the cage,’ he said. You’re the only fighter he feels right now is worthy of fighting him.”

Weird way to insult everyone else. “Uh, I hadn’t heard all of that. And while I’m looking forward to punching a hole through Magic’s skull, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

The audience roars with laughter. Even Molly chuckles.

I point at Venom two seats away from me. “Amazing fighter. Venom would easily put Magic in a coma. Woolly could probably knock Magic out in round one. Bear Trap would submit him in ninety seconds or less. Hammer Fists would knock that guy into next year.” My gaze skips around. Can I say anything decent about the other guys? I don’t respect any of them much. “Magic would probably break his knuckles punching Bull.”

“Fuck yeah, he would!” Bull jumps up and thrusts his fists into a Y. “Fuck that dude. Stonewall can take him easily.”

At least he took what I said as a compliment.

Molly lets out a quick giggle and covers her mouth with her hand. Relief spirals through me. Maybe she won’t be mad I didn’t tell her about the fight sooner.

Everyone else starts talking at once, bragging on their skills and how they’re just as worthy of fighting Magic.

Nope. That fight’s taken.

Now that the news about the challenge is public, I want this fight more than I thought. Another chance to prove myself.

I hope Molly’s as easy to convince.

When all the chatter dies down, Matt walks closer to us. “You’re going to need a coach, a team, a trainer to get yourself to Magic’s level,” Matt says in a low, dramatic tone.

“I have a good team of people I trust at home.” To train with and fuck around in the cage, sure. To prepare me for a Vegas fight, maybe not but I’ll figure that out later.

“Stonewall, would it surprise you to know there’s a world class trainer who would love the opportunity to work with you?”

“Uh, I guess not.” My words come out as more of a question.

“Welcome back to our coach!” Matt shouts. “Daniel Underhill!”

“No shit,” I mutter.

Underhill walks out on stage and waves to the audience, then to me. “What’s up, bro?”

“How you been?” I stand and shake his hand.

Matt doesn’t let us talk long. He brings Underhill to a chair in the center of the stage.

“So, you’re willing to train Stonewall to go up against Mike ‘Magic’ Everson. You didn’t get enough of him at the house?”

Underhill laughs, a deep hearty sound. Wasn’t sure the guy even knew how to laugh. “Hell, yeah. He’s an exceptional student and fighter.”

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