When you live on the edge, the only people who really understand are others who do, too.
Make no mistake, fighting is a controlled sport, not just a science but also an art. But when you’ve got your opponent in a Pace choke, and you’ve cut off all the blood to his brain, you’re a hair’s breadth away from taking a life.
The life of a man with a mother and father, siblings, a wife, kids, friends. A whole network of people you could steal him from if you lose your cool, go too far… miscalculate.
No fighter ever forgets that. It’s a weight on all our shoulders, something we try not to think about, like race car drivers try not to think about crashing.
Fletcher pulls a card from his desk, scribbles a number on the back.
“Get a prepaid, don’t use your roaming as anybody can track that. This is my number, it’s on twenty-four-seven. I’ll keep it off silent, call me if you need anything. Write down where you’re staying, I’ll have somebody leave a location in your mailbox to get the gun. Text me in a couple of days, let me know if it all worked out.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell him.
“Is there anything else?”
“One more thing,” I say. I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose. “I need a gig.”
“You’re not out?” Fletcher gestures vaguely at my body. “You look like you haven’t been training.”
“I’ve lost some weight, yeah,” I say. “But I need the money. Can you put me in touch?”
“I know there’s an underground tournament coming up. Multiple rounds, some pretty seasoned guys but I think you’ll have a good shot. Winnings for second and third placers, too. Interested?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says. “You call me on this number tomorrow, I’ll have the details for you.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I start to get up when the door opens, and a pretty face appears in the crack.
“Oh, sorry!” she says, closing the door.
“Pen!” Fletcher calls.
She opens the door again and steps in. She does a double take at me, and then sticks out a hand. On her arm is tattooed a full sleeve; gnarled beanstalks disappear up beneath the sleeve of her t-shirt. I notice the same pattern on the top of her foot – she’s wearing flip flops. It’s intricate work, very impressive.
“You’re Creature,” she says excitedly, as if she’s announcing it to me. “Pierce has shown me loads of your videos. He’s a huge fan.”
I grin at her, then look back at Fletcher.
“A fan, huh?”
“Wouldn’t go that far, pal. This is Penelope Wordsworth.”
I exchange greetings with her, then glance back at Fletcher.
So this is the girl he got shot for.
“Talk later, yeah?” he says to me.
“Yeah.”
“If you catch some time in the future, come around the gym and spar with the kids. They’d love it.”
“Shown them my videos, too?”
Fletcher shrugs. “It’s an education.”
“When I get everything sorted, I’ll make it a point to.”
As I leave, I hear Penelope’s voice through the closing door.
“What was he doing here? You should have gotten his autograph to put up on the wall.”
Chapter Thirty Eight
It feels unreal.
I take the steps down from Fletcher’s gym two at a time. As I sweep out onto the street, I see a white Mercedes pull out of a parking space. The bright, white LED lights blind me for a moment, and then it rumbles off, obviously a sport model.
I go to my rental, just a cheap and functional thing, and climb in, and sit in the car for a moment.
Unreal really is the word, and I’m afraid that at any moment I’m going to wake up, and this is all going to be a dream.
What are the chances? How… I shake my head. I can’t even wrap my mind around it.
All I know is that seeing Dee… it didn’t make me feel the way I expected to. I felt a surge of relief, and I wanted her, God, I wanted her. To be close to her, feel her against me.
But I thought I’d be crying tears of joy, and while I feel that, genuine joy, there is conflict. It’s not over! Finding her wasn’t just the end of the road. All this time, all this God damn fucking time I’d been thinking only up until the point that I found her.
I never thought about what we’d do after that.
But now I have her again, now she’s mine again, and it’s still not over.
Glass is still coming for us.
Fuck!
I do a quick grocery shop, pick up some chicken breasts to bake, some mushrooms and garlic to sautee quickly together as a side, and then some brown rice and broccoli. It may not be the most interesting meal, but it’s healthy, nutritious, and that’s the only way I know how to cook.