Page 101 of The Twins
We’d done the training. Packed ourselves full of protein. Warmed up. And now it was time to take down our opponents.
I hopped on the spot as Phil, our corner man for the day, secured the laces on my gloves. I glanced over at Rebecca.
She stood, dick-hardeningly pretty in a blue polka-dot dress, with her friend, Amy. Rebecca was pale and had already confessed she was nervous about watching our fight.
There was no reason for her to be. Cillian and I were the best for miles around. This was our profession, our talent and skill. The two guys we were facing off against were no doubt quaking in their boots right now.
Del the Destroyer and Keith Kickass were our nemesis for the next space in time. They hailed from an East London club, hence the dumb names they liked to parade with, but their fanfare brought in an extra-big crowd which meant an extra-big profit, so I wasn’t complaining.
Rebecca sent her attention their way, and I followed her line of sight.
Del was a huge black guy with a thick neck and balled shoulders. I liked that, heavy bodies moved slowly, and we could use that to our advantage. Keith was tall with long rangy limbs and a scar that ran from his top lip to his nose, distorting his mouth. The word ‘DAMAGED’ was tattooed in thick letters over his chest.
We’d read their profiles, their list of wins and defeats. Impressive stuff.
But not that impressive—today would be another defeat on their tally card.
“You good, bro?” Cillian asked through his black mouth guard as he fiddled with the waistband on his black fighting shorts. A line of determination slashed over his brow, and his eyes were narrowed.
“Yep.” I jumped on the spot several times, loosening my Achilles. “Let’s get this done and dusted.”
“She okay?” Cillian nodded at Rebecca.
“Not sure.” I frowned. “Let’s not draw out the pain, knock ’em down and out quick.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He slammed one open-fingered gloved hand into the other.
Cillian was up first, but we hadn’t let that bit of information leak, keep them guessing, that was our strategy. So we both stayed backed into a corner of the octagonal cage. Phil was at our side along with a few members of the club. Everyone was riled up for the fight of the summer. Their deep chatter was both excited and restless and really got my nerves fizzing with anticipation and my muscles flexing.
Music blasted out, Kings of Leon,‘Sex on Fire’, the throaty lyrics and heavy beat seeming to add speed to the blood in my veins.
“Good luck.”
I turned. Rebecca had approached the cage, her eyes wide and her mouth in a worried line.
I spit out my mouth guard. “Hey, babe, don’t be so worried.”
“I…please don’t get hurt.”
“We won’t, promise.”
She gave me a frown that told me I couldn’t make that promise.
“Okay, okay, not badly, will that do?” I smiled, trying to make light of it. Perhaps her coming along hadn’t been such a good idea.
“Not at all,” she said. “Don’t get hurtat all.”
“You know what we can do. You know we can handle ourselves,” I said. I stooped over and spoke in a lower volume. “So, jeez, have some faith, huh?”
She bit on her bottom lip. “I’ll be waiting, right over there.”
“I know, doll, and we’ll be with you soon.”
She melted into the crowd, and I jumped up and down and replaced my mouth guard.
Cillian gave me a frown.
I shrugged.
