Page 80 of A Fighter’s Love

Love.

Jenny’s heart was beating wildly. Shedidlove Jackson. Dale too. Oh, but what if something happened? A few years ago she’d seen Billy have his life changed during a fight. Since then she’d avoided watching matches. But today she couldn’t. She had to be there.

She also had to accept it was what the men she was in love with did. That was never going to change.

The ref, McKillen, stepped to the center of the ring wearing black trousers, white shirt and a bow tie. He spoke to both fighters, wagging his finger as he did so. They must have heard him, but while he spoke they stared at each other with steely jaws and narrowed eyes. Belligerence coming off them in waves.

The ref stepped away, sliding his hands over each other and spreading his arms wide. They were ready to go.

The music stopped. A bell rang.

“And they’re off,” Melanie called. “And Grinder is wasting no time. He’s right there, in Jackson’s face. Oh, and that’s an uppercut, followed by another.”

Jenny folded her arms, locking her hands into her armpits. Every muscle in her body was tense and she feared she might vomit.

Jackson was light on his feet, skipping around Grinder, dodging blows. He ducked to the right and got a strike on Grinder’s left cheek.

“And that was a good land,” Melanie shouted.

The crowd was buzzing. Several called out. Excitement filled the air. This was what they’d paid to see.

The fighters continued their dance around the ring, throwing punches in equal quantities. The referee followed them, his expression one of utmost concentration.

Jackson landed a solid upper cut. Grinder staggered to the ropes, bounced off, rapidly recovered. He sent several fast, powerful punches Jackson’s way.

Jenny wished it would be a quick match. Grinder getting knocked out in the first round would suit her very well.

But that didn’t happen and soon the men were sparring their way through round two, three and four. On the fifth round Grinder caught Jackson hard on the side of the head, near his eyebrow. Instantly a gash opened up and blood poured down his cheek.

The ref stepped between them. Grinder turned, his lips pulled back, showing his black mouth-guard and looking triumphant.

Dale and Michael were at the ready. And as Jackson sank onto a stool in his corner, they were there, patching him up, squirting water into his mouth. Michael clasped his shoulders and said something.

Jackson nodded, replaced his mouth-guard and stood, slamming his gloves together and jogging on the spot.

Jenny hoped the cut wouldn’t bleed into his eye and stop him seeing.

Grinder was there again, in Jackson’s space. It was as if he were taking advantage of Jackson’s injury and kept aiming for that side of face. Did he hope to open it again?

Jackson got trapped in the corner. Grinder got a low blow in. Jackson skipped around him but Grinder then rushed forward. He used his elbow to jab Jackson’s ribs.

Jackson flinched.

The referee shoved at Grinder and held up his hand.

“And that’s a foul,” Melanie shouted.

“Dirty bastard,” Jenny muttered.

McKillen spoke to Grinder, again wagging his finger.

Jackson walked in a circle, shaking out his arms.

The bell rang and they were off. Raining punches on each other. Jackson got a good amount of clean throws in, but Jenny had no idea if it would be enough points to win.

She glanced at the judges on the podium next to Melanie. There was no way of telling. Their faces were stern and focused.

“And that’s it. That’s got to hurt,” Melanie shouted.

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