Page 102 of Sacrifice
“You hurt?”
I laugh angrily. “What difference does it make?”
I climb out of the ring and grab my bag off the floor. Will follows me outside, the cool air slapping us in the face.
“What are they saying online?” I ask as we walk across the parking lot.
“You sure you wanna know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
He stands back as I open the door to my truck and toss my bag inside. “They’re saying you’re the man to dethrone that motherfucker. That you’re his kryptonite. That you about fucking died and still beat him.”
I love it. I love hearing this. It feeds that place inside me that needs fuel, that needs built up. The key to fighting is confidence. It’s going into that ring and knowing you’ll be the victor. This helps.
“Vegas odds only have him winning by a slight margin right now,” he says. “Dude, you haven’t fought in years. This is pretty crazy. They’re dubbing it ‘The California Kid vs The Comeback Kid.’”
I shut the door behind me and lean against the cab. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Let’s hope they’re right.”
“I’m heading over for a beer. Don’t forget tabs are due today. Did you pay yours?”
“I haven’t paid it in a few weeks and I’ve been ignoring Jordyn’s calls. I better swing by there and pay mine, too. I’d just send it with you but I have no idea how much it is.”
“See ya there.”
* * *
CREW
I haven’t beento Shenanigan’s in a few weeks but it still feels like home. Everything’s the same: same drooping green lights behind the bar, same people sitting on the same stools, the same salty smell.
Jordyn is working, talking up a couple of college-aged kids that come in every now and then. They’re wearing Tap Out shirts, so they’re not fighters. The only guys that wear those shirts are either endorsed or incompetent. By the look of the spare tire wrapping around their waists, it’s the latter.
Will got here before me and is already sitting in the corner, sipping on his beer. I lean against the end of the bar and watch Jordyn purposefully ignore me.
“I just need my tab, J,” I say. She pours a shot for an old guy that practically lives at the other end of the bar and then goes to the register. She sorts through the sheets and pulls one out. She brings it to me. “Forget how to smile? Or do you need my cock out for that?”
“Fuck you,” she says.
I laugh and whip out enough money to cover the tab. “Keep the rest,” I say, knocking my knuckle against the top.
I make my way through the building, stopping to chat briefly with a couple of regulars before getting to the back corner table. Will’s watching the television.
“Hey,” I say, pulling out my chair and sitting down.
“Hey. How’d it go with Jordyn?”
“Great. She’s a little pissy, but nothing she won’t get over.”
“What is it with women and their pissy-ness?”
“What are ya talking about?”
“Macie,” he says, almost in disgust. “I think I hate her.”
