Defying the Odds(45)

Then the energy in the crowd changed. A different sort of vitality surged through the arena that was tangible. The announcers were screaming, their voices bouncing off the walls, but the cloud of excitement made them hard to understand. Melody lowered her hands curiously, finding Romeo on the ground as officials hurried into the cage. Clay stood behind the referee, still looking harsh and intense, his chest rising and falling in hard, heavy breaths as if prepared to jump at his opponent once more.



“What happened?” Melody shouted over the roar of the crowd.



Jules turned to her, giving her a wide, bright smile. “He won!”



“Just like that?” Melody gaped. That was too fast after the past two rounds that had seemed to drag on for an eternity. “It’s over?”



“It’s over!” Jules confirmed, sounding breathless as she spoke loudly over the screaming crowd. “Hooray for jujitsu!”



Melody wasn’t real sure what that meant, but she breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad to see Romeo get up, because she was half worried Clay had killed him. He even gave Clay a sportsmanlike half hug, telling her that at the end of the day, after all the fanfare and drama, this was still just a sport. Confetti fell from the ceiling, looking like living glitter under the strobes of colorful lights. Melody finally made sense of the announcer’s enthused yells echoing over the crowd.



“Clay Powers, reigning heavyweight champion of the world!”



That seemed like a pretty impressive title for a man she’d fallen for over diner fare and coffee. Melody was a bit lost and awed as to how she got to this moment in her life. She felt dazed that she woke up this morning and headed to work, but somehow ended the night in Las Vegas watching Clay doing something most fighters could only dream about.



She thought the belt they put on him was gaudy and tacky and didn’t match Clay at all, but she was happy he’d gotten it. The crowd never once stopped screaming. Even when Clay finally got out of the cage, the sound was booming. Melody’s ears would probably ring for a week.



Then with cameras in his face and bodyguards flanking him, Clay walked over to where Melody and Jules sat facing the arena. Melody jumped forward and reached out to clasp his hands in hers. For one brief moment, time stopped. She and Clay were connecting as if she’d never tried to push him away to begin with, and it felt like her universe clicked back into place.



“Come on, come on!” Clay barked in his usual surly tone, pulling on her hands. “Hurry, Mel!”



Melody understood. There were people everywhere, pressing in against her and Jules. Everyone was trying to touch Clay. The second where time seemed to stop evaporated, pushing everything into fast-forward. Jules leaped over the wall and landed on her feet. Melody followed her, scrambling over the edge with far less grace, but Clay and one his bodyguards helped her down while other people screamed and reached out to Clay.



With two feet on the ground and the push of fans no longer crushing her, Melody breathed a sigh of relief. Clay leaned down, placing a chaste kiss against the top of her head, and she was grateful for it. She needed the connection, but there were too many people watching. Cameras and fans were everywhere. Melody would have died if he made a big production once he got to her.



But he was Clay, and he’d never do that.



Those damn cameras followed them all the way out of the arena and into the dressing rooms. They asked Clay questions that he gave clipped, one-word answers to. He was an amazing fighter but a horrible performer for the masses, and this sport seemed to require some level of showmanship.



Fortunately Clay had a snake charmer for a best friend.



Even after a championship fight, Wyatt didn’t seem to have any problem drawing the focus away from Clay and making himself the center of attention. Tony worked on pulling off Clay’s fingerless gloves and cutting the tape off his knuckles while Wyatt started running his mouth to the cameras.



“He was just biding his time. Biding his time and letting Wellings wear himself out,” Wyatt was saying to the cameras, the twang to his accent stronger than ever, as if that was part of his act. “This ain’t a street fight; this is a championship match. Clay took his hits and looked for a crack in the armor. When he saw it, he went for the takedown, and y’all saw how it ended. Wellings is a powerful fighter, but he ain’t able to compete with someone like Clay, who’s got a more balanced skill set. That boy’s got no control, and his grappling’s weak. All Clay had to do was get him to the mat.”



“Was Clay playing it low-key on purpose?” one of the interviewers crowding into the little room asked. “Was that part of his strategy?”