Page 51 of Breaking the Habit

Levi left his hair down, his preferred style, and ran his hands through it a few times. It had just reached that awkward length between chin and shoulder. He was the only fighter he knew who had long hair, which prompted him to keep at it. One more thing to set him apart. Catapult him higher. And if his hair got him to the top, then people could start calling him Rapunzel.

When his phone dinged with the arrival of the ride share, Levi booked it to the front of the apartment complex. His knees and wrists still ached a little from the fight last night, which was lucky. Some matches left him limping for weeks—he could never tell which one was going to lay him out. And as he sat in the back seat of the ride share, watching the passing palms of Franklin Avenue, his mind came back to the same thought that had been plaguing him for a while now: He couldn’t do this shit forever.

Right now, fighting was his business plan because it was the quickest leg up. Not to mention his passion. He loved training, loved showing his skill in the cage. But in ten more years? Or twenty? He couldn’t be getting kicked in the chest until he was fifty.

He needed a Plan B. Something to ease into once the physical demands became too much.

And that’s what all of this was about. Getting his name out there. Opening doorways to other possibilities. Throwing everything at the wall to see what stuck, so that when he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—fight anymore, he wouldn’t be broke, still struggling to pay for his brother’s never-ending medical expenses.

Levi didn’t have it in him not to succeed, either. When his parents had passed, he’d transformed into a caretaking warrior. He had to, or else the pain and sadness would have consumed him alive.

West Hollywood was already buzzing by the time he rolled up to his favorite part of Santa Monica Boulevard. Quirky bars lined the strip, and in his six months out here he’d already run into both Jonah Hill and Shia LaBeouf on casual nights out. That seemed like a good omen. This was the place to be.

And soon enough, he’d be one of the people to see.

Levi hopped between a few different bars, having a beer at each one, before he found the best spot for the night. He’d never been to this bar before, but there were about fifteen photogs waiting outside, so that made his decision for him.

A short line curled out from the mirrored front doors. Levi had barely stepped in line before he overheard one of the photographers say, “I think that’s Levi.”

He tried not to let his excitement show. Kept his face stoic, hands shoved in his pockets. By the time he reached the front doors to show his ID, some of the photographers were snapping his picture already.

“Show us the lead fists!” one goaded.

Levi flashed a grin while he flashed his ID and then clapped the bouncer on the shoulder. As he sauntered inside, he felt like the king of the world. At the mahogany bar that curled around a glass backdrop, Levi ordered a whiskey on the rocks. Because this was the sort of thing that deserved celebrating.

One whiskey bled into two, and two into three. By one a.m., he’d amassed a small clique of new bar friends. Mickey, Trent, and Uri. His buddies for the night, though he’d forget their names by the morning. Shit like this always happened when he went out. They were knee deep into watching replays of the superman punch at the matchup yesterday. The guys peered at his phone, intermittently exclaiming “Awww, shit!” while they watched the footage.

“Dude, can I get your autograph?”

Levi signed forearms and abdomens and one girl’s left tit. He followed them toward the front doors, his whole body warm and tingly. This was the best part about his strict training lifestyle: he was his own cheapest date. Alcohol delivered a swifter punch than anyone, once he’d been sober for weeks. And with this new league’s rapid-fire schedule, it meant he had only a few days each month when he could let loose like this.

The scene in front of the bar had completely changed during the hour or two he was inside. The sidewalk was bustling, people pushing each other around, paparazzi staked out like they were waiting for someone. Levi got pulled along with his new group of friends. He’d decided to tag along as they went to the next bar on the strip, but their movement got held up by a people jam.

Shouts filled the air, and people surged around him. Even through the happy-go-lucky warmth of his hard buzz, Levi felt the aggression skyrocket. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly, some dickhead had Mickey by the collar of his shirt, hauling him off.

Levi reacted before he could make the decision. This was easy shit for him. He won the bar fights every time. Levi lunged after the dickhead, which allowed Mickey to stumble away. The people on the sidewalk screamed and whooped. Here was the entertainment. For free, this time. Adrenaline filled Levi’s limbs as Mickey, Trent, and Uri egged him on. People started chanting.

Levi let the dickhead lead the way, since he could clearly beat him to unconsciousness without breaking a sweat. It only took a few jabs before the realization crossed the stranger’s face.

“He’s a fucking MMA pro, you douche!” Mickey shouted as Levi dodged yet another failed punch.

Levi figured he might as well give this pop-up crowd something to write home about, so he broke the dickhead’s sunglasses and sent him to his ass with a punch to the face. Levi left with his new buddies feeling even more on top of the world.

“Dude, I bet that was like a fucking walk in the park for you, right?” Uri exclaimed. Trent led the way, parting the crowds as they filed down the sidewalk, yelling for everyone to make way for the new king of MMA.

It wasn’t in Levi’s nature to reject attention like this. He lapped it up. Every last bit of it and then some, until the night turned fuzzy and gray, and the last thing he remembered was checking his phone at three in the morning before ordering one more shot.

Chapter 16

“Levi!”

The shout cut through the fog of his sleep. He jolted awake, staring dumbly at his pillowcase as the pieces of the real world refused to click together.

“Levi! Get up!”

He blinked about a hundred times, twisting to see Gage sitting in his motorized chair in Levi’s bedroom doorway.

“Wh—” Levi began.

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