Page 11 of The Slayer
“I didn’t know that,” Wyatt said and turned back to Clay. “Did you know that?”
“I’m gonna go with yes.” Clay nodded as he looked back to Chuito. “Sure.”
“Are you pandering to him?”
“I’ve seen him fight.” A genuine smile spread across Clay’s face. “I’m inclined to agree with whatever facts this boy gives me.”
“He’s twenty years old and ain’t had a lick of training,” Wyatt said in disbelief. “Are you nervous ’bout getting in the cage with him?”
“I don’t think I’d want to get in there after insulting his heritage,” Clay amended. “He’s the most powerful sprawl-and-brawl fighter I’ve ever seen in my life. He takes this shitveryseriously.”
“I’m a sprawl-and-brawl fighter.” Wyatt gestured to himself as he looked at Clay in horror. “Are you saying he’s better than me?”
“I’m saying that whatever he had to use sprawl and brawl for was much more intense than what you’ve used it for,” Clay argued in a calm, even voice. “His fighter name is the Slayer ’cause he gets in that ring to kill motherfuckers. I watched him fight for three days before I made him the offer to come up here. He ended every match in less than thirty seconds.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes at his friend, before he looked back to Chuito and tilted his head. “You think you can beat me, boy?”
Chuito held up his hands and looked away rather than answer. “Whatever, bro.”
Hereallydidn’t want to go down in this backward state. The only reason he was here in the first place was because he needed a distraction, any distraction, from his life right now.
An offer from a reigning UFC champion to audition for a fighter spot at this gym he was building was a little too compelling to pass up, even if Chuito had to deal with an asshole like Wyatt Conner. He knew Wyatt used to be a UFC fighter too, but what the fuck did that matter to him? He was a pig now. That meant Chuito had to toe the line whether he wanted to or not.
“Are you clean?”
Chuito wanted to flip him off, but instead he just nodded and said, “Sí.”
Wyatt turned back to Clay. “Did you get him cleared?”
“No, I invited him to drive all the way up here from Miami without getting him cleared first. He’s clean.” Clay gestured to Chuito. “You want to fight him? Go for it.”
Chuito snapped his head around and looked at Clay. “¿Que?”
“You want to fight him?” Clay looked positively thrilled now as he gave Chuito a knowing smile. “Take a crack at the sheriff?”
“I thought he was your friend,” Chuito said to Clay, before he looked back to the sheriff. “You said you grew up together. Like brothers.”
“Yeah, we did.” Clay nodded. “We actually still live in the same place.”
“Then why would you put him in the cage with me?” Chuito asked incredulously. “If he’s your brother, why would you want him to get hurt?”
“He’s a big boy. He can take a beating.”
He looked away and shook his head before mumbling, “Estos gringos están locos.”
“What’d he say?”
“I said you’re both crazy,” Chuito repeated in English. “I would never put my family in the cage with someone like me just for the fun of it. Money, yes. Survival, yes. For fun, no.”
“Wow, he is really impressed with himself.” Wyatt laughed. “Listen, boy, I am a fourth-degree black belt in karate, and that’s just one of many black belts I have earned. You honestly think you can take me?”
“Have you ever used your black belts against someone trying to kill you? Ever had to fight with your bare hands to keep from dying?”
“No.” Wyatt pulled back as if thinking about it. “I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I can take you.” Chuito nodded. “Fuck your black belts.”
Wyatt tilted his head and rubbed at the back of his neck as he looked at Clay again. There was a wild gleam in his eyes. A grin tugged at his lips before he said, “I’m doing it.”
