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Undeclared(61)



“You wanted to know, and I’m telling you,” he said, proceeding to strip. For once the sight of his naked chest didn’t rouse my passions. I was too concerned for his safety.

“It’s not that dangerous.” Noah tried to placate me. “I’ve been working with professional trainers for over a year now. I’m a better fighter than he is.”

“This is a no-rules fight, though. You could get hurt,” I pleaded. When he remained silent and continued to ready himself, I tried a different angle.

“Yes, I know I’ve lived a fortunate life. But, Noah, if I needed the money, wouldn’t you give it to me?” I argued.

“It’s not the same.” He pulled on shorts and then sweatpants over top. “Dammit. All my wraps are at the gym.” He loped to the door and yelled downstairs. “Bo, I need some wraps.”

“It is the same thing. Do you care more about the money than me?” I asked.

“Don’t make it about you. It’s not about you,” Noah snapped.

“Don’t do this, Noah. You’ll get hurt. I have the money. ”

“I don’t want your money. Did you know that one of the most celebrated fighters in MMA history is a guy who lost by technical knockout? Helio Grace wouldn’t give up even after his opponent had broken his arm in two places. He was lionized after the fight for his refusal to submit and tap out. Finally, after his arm was broken twice, someone from his corner threw the towel in and ended the match,” Noah went on.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I cried.

“It’s about being able to hold my head up. I’ve got some skill, Grace. I can make something for me, for us, but I’m going to have to use my hands to do it. Take a few knocks. Look at your fucking apartment, Grace, or this place here. This is where you’re comfortable, and I’m going to make this my world even if I have to break a few eye sockets to do it.”

Nothing I was going to say would penetrate his thick head. Bo appeared at the doorway and handed over some wraps to Noah. We wordlessly exchanged frustrated and worried glances, but remained silent. Noah had set his course and no one was going to deter him. Neither his best friend nor his girlfriend, if that was what I was.

Noah was dressed in sweats, a tank top, and tennis shoes. His wraps and a change of clothing were stuffed in a gym bag. Mal came up the stairs. “It’s all set up. We’ll meet in an hour at the old zipper factory building south of downtown on East Sixth.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Noah said.

“You will not.” I told him. I marched over and picked up his gym bag. “If you’re going to fight then any post-game celebrating will be with me.” My smart remark broke the tension that had built up, and everyone laughed.

“She told you,” Bo said.

“I guess she did.” Noah didn’t take his eyes off me. “Okay then, Grace, you’re with me.”



“Worried?” Noah asked me when we were back in his truck. He had taken the time to help me up into the cab before going around and getting in the driver’s seat, his prior lapse of manners completely unnoticed. It was a sign of how upset he was before and how calm and in control he was now.

“Yes.” I didn’t want to be, but I had never experienced this before. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Noah.

“Don’t be. I’ll win. He’s a T-Rex.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s got short arms, short reach.”

“Nice,” I laughed as Noah had intended and then tried to return the favor. “Too bad we are on our way to have you roll around with some guy instead of back at my apartment to wrestle in bed.”

“We can wrestle later,” he said, preoccupied. He didn’t even come back with some sexual comment as he ordinarily would. I gave up.

“Tell me about the fight tonight. Maybe if you explain more, I won’t be so afraid,” I said, hoping to borrow his confidence.

“As long as everyone keeps their mouth shut, there isn’t going to be a problem.” Underground fighting, Noah explained, was done by all kinds of men of all different body shapes. He figured most of them had rage issues, and this was a safe place to let them out. One guy he knew fought regularly and did so not to win, but for the adrenaline rush from the pain. But he often won because he wouldn’t quit. This guy loved to take a punch—the more brutal, the better. Noah contemplated that it was almost a sexual thing for the guy.

“I’m not sure how he explains that at work the next day,” Noah admitted. Many of the fighters refused to get medical attention because the more injuries there were, the greater the likelihood that the underground fights would be discovered. Noah said, with a few colorful curses, that this was the dumbest fucking thing ever.