"Look, we came down to talk to you and apologize," Drew went on. "To let you know we meant no malice, we just gave the information we were given. Period."
"And where was the apology?" Heath demanded. "To me, this all sounds like a bunch of fuckin' excuses. Get the hell out of my face, and if you ever report on anything regarding my personal life every again I will fuck you up. Both of you. When there won't be anyone to hold me back. Got it?"
Drew looked at him levelly. "You need to check that temper, Riley," he said softly. "That's gonna get you in deep shit one day."
"Wanna make it today?" Heath asked bluntly. He clenched his fists at his sides.
"Son," John said warningly.
"Get out of here," Heath said again, his voice quietly dangerous.
The commentators both swallowed, nodded, and turned and left.
"Let me guess," Heath went on, glaring at their retreating backs but addressing his family. "Smith told them to come down and 'apologize' or they'd lose their jobs."
"Something like that," Connor said wryly. "Heath, you have to stop threatening people."
"I don't give a shit," Heath countered, annoyed. "They're fucking with my life. And as far as Marty goes…"
"He is nowhere to be found at the moment," Connor said. "I looked. He's always at these things but he must know he fucked up because he's not here. I even asked some of the fighters if they'd seen him and none of them have."
"How would he even have gotten that information about her?" John asked.
Heath shrugged. "He's a reporter," he said. "He's got contacts, and it's not like he has any scruples. I'm sure a few bills here and there to someone at the courthouse could get him whatever information he needed. Or he ran her name through some kind of database." He shook his head. "It was never about her anyway. He just did it to fuck with me. He probably was hoping for some big skeletons in her closet, something that could embarrass me if he shared it; he probably felt like he hit pay dirt with what he did find." Heath bit his words off with disgust; screw the commentators. Marty Brown was a lowlife piece of shit—that's who he really wanted to get his hands on.
"Sorry about Drew and her dad," Connor said softly. "I know how much you wanted her here."
Heath's guts twisted but he shrugged. "It's fine," he said evenly. "Her family needed her. She went." He turned his back on his brother and father, hoping they'd take the hint and not talk about her anymore. Now that she was gone, under these circumstances, Heath really and truly missed her. Not having her here had put him in a completely different mood and mindset than the day before. He knew he couldn't afford to think of anything but the task at hand for the day, with three bouts ahead of him, but he couldn't stop.
***
The day only got worse from there.
Despite the "apologetic" manner in which Bryan and Drew had visited him at his dressing room, they were now on a mission to berate him and his performance as much as possible. They were seated right next to the cage, they had microphones, and they apparently thought he was deaf.
He was struggling against his first opponent of the day, one of the amateurs that had progressed from the first bout. The kid was wily, strong and fast, and Heath had underestimated him when he'd studied footage of the kid in action. Either that, or this kid had made huge leaps and bounds in his training since the film was shot a few months ago. Regardless, he was putting up one hell of a fight and now in the fifth round without the TKO that he was so infamous for, Heath was growing increasingly more pissed off.
"Well, the One-Hitter-Quitter certainly isn't living up to his name today, huh, Drew?" Bryan called out merrily behind him, and it took every ounce of self-control Heath had not jump over the edge of the cage and strangle him. "Maybe it had something to do with the departure of his girlfriend early this morning."
"I did notice she is not in attendance today," Drew agreed. "Some fighters just can't handle having their significant others here with them at things like this."
Are you fucking shitting me! Heath bellowed in his mind.
The sudden surge of anger proved to be just what he needed to put the amateur down. He blocked the flurry of punches from the kid, shoved him back and leapt out of the way of a sweep kick, before feinting to the left and bringing his knee to the kid's face before jumping onto his back and putting him in a chokehold until finally, blessedly, he tapped out.
"Finally!" Drew called sarcastically. "That's fifteen minutes of my life I'll never get back."
"You know, you come to expect a certain standard of performance from a fighter," Bryan agreed. "And when he falls short, well…it's just boring."