Clay grunted his agreement. He loved this sport. He loved the Cuthouse Cellar Training Center that had grown into a dream facility for Mixed Martial Arts fighters. Most of all, he loved Wyatt, who was the best training partner in the whole goddamn world.
“Man, Wellings doesn’t stand a chance,” Wyatt said, wheezing, struggling to get his breath back but still yammering because that’s what he was best at. “I tried fighting dirty like him, and you still got me. I’m betting big money on this fight ’cause ain’t nothing stopping you, Clay. Ya got it, buddy. The title’s yours.”
Yeah, Clay knew he had it. If he could get Wyatt when he was fighting dirty, he could certainly take down Romeo “The Gladiator” Wellings. The media played it up like Clay was finally going to fall from glory with this fight. Wellings was a little too mean, a little too hungry. It currently had everyone believing Clay was on his way out, because he wasn’t as flashy. He didn’t run his mouth to the cameras and ham it up for the fans. The betting odds were against him, but he didn’t really give a shit. He knew what he was capable of.
“Damn, it’s a good thing we’re keeping the cameras out of the Cellar,” Tony Hartings, one of Clay’s coaches, announced as he walked into the eight-sided cage they’d installed in the Cuthouse Cellar to match the conditions of a real fight. “’Cause that was three rounds of nasty to watch. Wellings’s camp might change their tune if they saw that.”
“Don’t count on it. Wellings is one cocky New York bastard. I can’t wait to watch Clay lay into him.” Wyatt rolled onto his side with a groan and reached up to wipe at the corner of his eye. His fingers came away bloody, and he lifted his head to Tony. “Christ, I gotta work in a few hours.”
“You need some stitches,” Tony said with a wince. “I dunno why you two insist on this level of training. I think you’re both certifiable. You kick the bloody shit out of each other for the fun of it.”
Wyatt grinned despite his split lip, showing off bloodstained teeth. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. In this sport, ya gotta have a little crazy.”
“They been like this since they were kids,” Jasper Curtis said, coming into the ring behind Tony. “They’ve been beating each other bloody, black, and blue since middle school. It’s amazing both of them don’t have permanent brain damage.”
Clay pulled out his mouth guard, holding it in his fingerless glove. He blinked up at the lights on the ceiling, finding them haloed and hazed in a way that was familiar. “I think I got a concussion.”
“I’m awesome,” Wyatt announced, sounding pleased to hear it. He fell onto his back once more, bleeding onto the mat and contemplating the ceiling for one long moment. “Think I got one too. I’m seeing angels round those lights.”
Clay smirked. “I guess that means I’m awesome.”
“Sure enough,” Wyatt agreed. “No driving today. Looks like Harvey’s off desk duty. I’ll have my own personal chauffeur courtesy of the fine taxpayers of Garnet. I love being the boss.”
“I know you do.” Clay grunted because talking was hurting him. He might have a few bruised ribs. “But Jules is gonna tear into you for putting her on the phones.”
Jules might be Wyatt’s sister, but she was also the only lawyer for two towns. She didn’t have time to scratch her ass, let alone cover the phones at the station. Every time Wyatt was forced to turn to her as backup, she got pissed off to the point of violence.
“Eh, she’s all right,” Wyatt said dismissively. “That girl better do what I tell her to. I’m the head Conner in charge.
Despite his ribs, Clay laughed. Wyatt really must have water on the brain to say that with a whole handful of witnesses to hear him. Someone, probably Clay, was going to tell Jules, and that would make stitches and a concussion the least of Wyatt’s problems.
* * * *
Melody realized she might need a day off after all.
Facing her sixth double, she turned off her truck in the employee parking lot and blinked tired eyes at the back of Hal’s Diner. Her breath puffed out, clearly visible in the cold morning air since the heater in the truck had decided to give out. Right now it was uncomfortable; in another month it was going to be a huge issue.
She grew up in a small town about six hours outside Garnet. Melody knew how cold their winters were, and wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the lack of heating. She needed to get the truck fixed. She needed a lot of things and couldn’t afford to let a little exhaustion get the best of her.