“The thing is, Trent isn’t the same hotheaded idiot you hated a year ago. He’s got some decent skills right now.”
“You think I’d lose to him?”
Ronnie laughed. “Fuck no. Not after what I saw the other night. But it’s early days for you, man, real early days. You should be building up your resume before you get involved in some prime-time prize fight.”
“What, are you my fucking manager now?”
“No, but I should be. You know I’m right, man.”
I sighed, wanting to punch the mirror. I knew Ronnie was just looking out for me, but it still pissed me off.
I wasn’t the kind of man to back down from a fight. In MMA, the only reason you wouldn’t take a match was because you didn’t want to fight down to someone’s level or the purse was just too small. It was a business, after all.
But if the purse was decent for the Trent fight, I was taking it.
“Thanks anyway,” I told him, “but I’m going to take the fight.”
“Okay, man. Do what you want. I think it’s the wrong move, but I’m in your corner no matter what.”
“So when will I hear about this?”
“No clue. I just heard the rumor, is all. I bet your manager will have news soon.”
“Okay then. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Everything else good with you?”
“All good. You?”
“Same. I’ll let you get back to it.”
I said goodbye and we hung up. I leaned up against the mirror and felt my heart beating steadily in my chest.
For the last year, as I stressed and trained and worked for Skad out in the jungle, the image of beating the fuck out of Trent on live television kept me going. It motivated me, made me hungry, made me learn every new technique and skill that Skad could teach me.
I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Ronnie was right, I should have been busy building up my resume, getting back into the game. I may have been stronger and more skilled than Trent, but that didn’t mean a win was absolutely going to happen. Truthfully, it was a real possibility that I could lose, and a loss to someone like Trent so early in my career could cripple me.
But the imagine of pounding his fucking face bloody, over and over and over, kept playing through my head as I finished my workout.
I knew what I’d do. If the opportunity presented itself, I wasn’t going to back down. I just wasn’t that kind of guy.
* * *
I wasn’t off the phone for more than twenty minutes when Alexa came downstairs. I had just finished the last set of my workout and was drinking some water, cooling off, when she tentatively came down the steps.
“You decent?” she called out.
“It’s a fucking home gym, not a bath house,” I said.
She came down the steps and crossed her arms. “I never know with you.”
“What, do you think I’m going to be down here doing squats with my cock out?”
“No,” she said, smiling.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d love to see me all naked and lifting weights.”
“No, thanks. Can’t imagine anything worse, actually.”
“What can I do for you then?”
She leaned up against a machine as I wiped a towel across my brow. I noticed her staring at my muscles and smirked, but I decided not to say anything. Let her stare; I knew what she wanted.
“About the waitress,” she started.
“Finally ready to let me do my thing?”
“No, not at all. Not after you went crazy on that reporter.”
“Paparazzi. He was a reporter like I’m the fucking Pope.”
“Fine, whatever. I don’t want you scaring this girl off.”
“Please, princess. I don’t scare the ladies. I entice them.”
She burst out laughing, and I grinned at her, flexing.
“Super enticing,” she said, smiling and laughing along as I continued to pose.
“Come on, look at these fucking guns,” I said, playing it up.
“I’m sure she’d be all over you if only you flexed like that all the time.”
“Girl, this isn’t all I got.”
“Please, no more. You’re driving me wild,” she said sarcastically.
I laughed and cut it out, moving closer to her and leaning up against the wall. “What’s your idea then?”
“Last time we got information just by being smart and asking around. Maybe this time we try a similar approach.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Well, we got the girl’s name and I did a little research. Marla Stone lives near here. I already looked her up and got most of her info through Facebook and Twitter.”
“Damn Internet,” I mumbled. “People put basically fucking anything up there.”