Page 69 of Fighting Jacob

Merry Christmas, Cock Tease

Saturday night 10 PM.

Jake the Giant vs. The Snake.

See you there.

Jacob xx

* * *

It’s been a little over six months since Christmas, but if memory serves, I’m reasonably sure I jumped into the air and shouted, “Finally!” at the top of my lungs. I nagged Jacob relentlessly for months to watch him fight, but he always refused my request. Now, I’ve been to every fight he’s competed in.

This competition is different than what I saw on YouTube. For one, there’s no cage; it’s a standard boxing ring, but the main difference is that this fighting is done in secret. There are no promotional campaigns, no flyers printed, and only invited guests are allowed to watch the fights.

The lack of fanfare doesn’t weaken anyone’s enthusiasm. If anything, it makes it more palpable. The room is full of super-wealthy people who pay top dollar for the seats close to the action. A majority “own” fighters, and then there a handful who just enjoy the spectacle of a sport without rules.

When Jacob told me the fighters have "owners," I laughed. I thought he was joking. It didn’t take me long to realize he was being serious. That was more because of the divide in the room than Jacob assuring me he wasn’t.

Isaac is Jacob’s owner. The original contract Jacob signed was only for twelve months, but with professional fighting off the table, he’s continued their agreement the past six months. I don’t know how long he plans to fight for Isaac. We’ve never discussed it. Actually, we don’t discuss anything with the word “future” attached to it. We like to keep things simple by enjoying each other’s company without looking two steps ahead all the time. We also don’t live in each other’s pockets. Jacob has his life, and I have mine. It might not be ideal for some, but our arrangement works well for us.

When I hear Rage Against the Machine’s hit song “Killing in the Name” blaring over the speakers, I jump to my feet and holler. Even with the crowd screaming his name as he strides down the aisle, Jacob remains humble. He keeps his head down low and his headphones up loud as he shadows Isaac and Hank to the ring. When he slides through the ropes, his head lifts my way. I give him a seductive wink, loving that even in a packed room, he locates me like a missile locked on its target.

After boosting my wink with a cheeky grin, he makes his way to Hank, who is standing in the corner of the ring. He warmed up in the locker rooms, so this is just a final check Hank likes to do before each match. He's as pedantic about Jacob's safety in the ring as me.

Just as Jacob joins his opponent in the center of the ring, a deep voice at my side says, “Is this seat taken?”

With my heart in my throat, I shift my eyes to the highly recognizable voice. It’s been over twelve months since I’ve heard it, but I’d never forget its smug, conceited pitch.

As suspected, Callum's brother Curtis is standing next to me. His arms are folded in front of his chest, and his lips are hard-lined. Before I can tell him the seat next to me is reserved for anyone but him, he slips into it. He slumps down low before spreading his knees to the width of his shoulders. To an outsider, his stance appears casual, but I'm not a stranger to the tension radiating out of him. He has that same egotistical aura he had every time he pushed Callum into acting like an asshole.

More than eager to get away from him, I stand before skirting past him. I don’t make it two feet away before his hand darts out to seize my wrist. With a yank, he shoves me back into my seat before his lips get friendly with my ear. “Sit. The fuck. Down. The show is just getting started.”

The threat in his words is the least of my problems. Since Jacob’s eyes always stray to mine at the start of every match, he’s noticed I have company. Unfortunately, the ref hasn’t. When he blows his whistle, announcing the start of the fight, Jacob fails to notice the quick approach of his competitor.

Hank screams at him to protect his face, but it comes too late. Jacob's opponent strikes him hard against his left temple, momentarily diverting his attention from me.

“This is going even better than predicted.” Curtis’s laughter picks up when Jacob is hit for the second time, this time to his right jaw. The crack of his bone makes my stomach roll, but it also makes me jump into action.

After raising the hand Curtis isn’t clutching in the air, I strike him hard across the face. My slap is so brutal, he needs both his hands to soothe his burning cheek. My palm is also on fire, but it doesn’t slow me down. I scurry past the spectators, ignoring their hisses of annoyance when I block the view they paid thousands of dollars for. I’d apologize, but I don’t have time for niceties. Curtis is on my tail, and his gaze is lethal.

When I step into the aisle between stadium seats, I pivot on my heels, then strengthen my stance. I stand heel to toe as Hank taught me before raising my balled hands to protect my face. Curtis finds my efforts to protect myself amusing. His chuckles are so loud, I hear them over the spectators cheering boisterously.

“Are you fucking kidding me...?”

His arrogant smirk is wiped off his face when my fist makes a whip-cracking noise as it strikes his nose. Pain zaps through my hand and rockets down my arm, but I remain strong, not letting on that I’m injured. Men like Curtis feed off others' fears, and I refuse to give him an ounce of power he doesn't deserve.

The redness dribbling out of Curtis’s nose matches the anger on his cheeks. He’s reached boiling point. “You fucking bitch!”

He rears back his hand, the fury in his eyes unnerving, but the hit I’m anticipating never comes. That might have more to do with the warning sounding through the crowd than Curtis suddenly learning morals.

“If you touch one hair on her head, I'll kill you.”

Jacob is halfway down the aisle. Blood is coursing through his body so fast, veins are bulging all over his delicious sweat-slicked body. From what I can see past the wide span of his shoulders, his opponent is out cold in the middle of the ring.

I stop wondering if he just posted a new KO personal best when Curtis sneers, “You already had your shot, and look where that got you. Throwing in the towel.”

I’m so shocked by Jacob’s quick arrival, my mind is a little hazy. What are they talking about? Jacob has never thrown in the towel. He’s undefeated.

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