“Hey Cassie, hey Chance!”
I realize the two empty seats beside me are for them. I’m unhappy. Rose didn’t tell me she was bringing friends. It’s not like I came out prepared to really socialize with anyone else but her and her boyfriend.
I smile and introduce myself.
The guy, Chance sits beside me with Cassie, and he pulls out his zippo and clinks it open. “Relax,” he tells me when he sees my expression. “I don’t smoke. Just an old habit.”
The bell dings again, and a second fighter steps into the cage with Pierce. The crowd goes silent, but the air is charged.
The man is smaller than Pierce, but he’s stocky and obviously strong. Pierce is leaner, with longer arms and a lighter step.
I groan to myself. I’m really not having a good time, and the fight hasn’t even started yet.
The two meet in the middle of the cage, and they tap fists. I notice they’re not wearing gloves, but instead have some kind of tape or wrapping around their hands.
If they don’t wear gloves, then each punch is going to really hurt.
The referee motions for them to step back. Already Pierce is putting on a show, strutting about, and the light plays off the deep lines cut into his stunning body. His shorts are tight, hug his ass.
He turns around, shows his back to his opponent – who I’ve already dubbed ‘Stocky’ in my head – and looks at me. He smirks, winks, and again a sea of heads turn to face me, as if they’re expecting me to… respond.
I lick my lips, nod my head slightly at his opponent. Pierce shrugs, like he hasn’t got a worry in the world. But Stocky is already moving in, charging at him.
“Turn around!” I mouth, shaking my head at Pierce in disbelief. He’s going to get punched in the back of the head.
At the last moment, Pierce twists on his heels, and brings an elbow around. Stocky ducks it, but already Pierce is on him, aggressively closing the distance.
Beside me, I hear Chance say, “He always was a showoff.”
Stocky is backing up quick, and Pierce is dancing toward him. He stops suddenly, and puts out his hands, beckons, taunts.
It seems to have an effect. The body language of Stocky changes, becomes angry, and he stomps toward Pierce, fists up, ready to block a blow.
Pierce feints a step to his left, and throws Stocky’s weight off-center. He then kicks out Stocky’s unbalanced foot. Stocky goes down hard onto his back.
Pierce is on him in an instant, rolling around, and I can’t even make out what’s happening. But before long he’s got Stocky’s head in the nook of his knee, and he’s squeezing.
“Holy shit,” Rose whispers. “That was fast.”
Stocky is on the ground, his face is red as a beetroot, and he’s in a chokehold. Pierce, still putting on a show, points at the crowd, and they erupt.
“Jesus,” I say, looking at Chance and Cassie. She’s got her face bunched up, and I agree with her. Watching Stocky being choked like that is so immediate and visceral. It’s… a little sickening.
“Pierce has him in what’s called a submission hold,” I overhear Chance tell her. She doesn’t reply.
Stocky’s losing strength in his body now. He’s trying uselessly to grab Pierce behind him, but can’t get any good hold. Pierce twists his leg again, rolling Stocky’s body over so that he’s face down, neck still being held in between Pierce’s calf and thigh.
“He’s going to kill him,” I whisper in disbelief. “What the hell? Don’t they stop the fight?”
But, to my surprise, Stocky twists his body again, and lays a thunderous punch against Pierce’s thigh. The leg instantly goes dead, and Stocky rolls out, wincing, holding onto his throat and rubbing it.
Pierce gets to his feet, tests his leg, and I can almost feel the numbness he must be feeling, the pins and needles from the heavy blow.
He just grins, and beckons Stocky again.
The noise has all but died. There’s an eerie silence, as if suddenly the audience no longer cares for Pierce’s taunting. Or maybe they’re shocked by the purple bruise that’s already forming on Stocky’s neck.
Stocky is pissed, though. That much is for sure. He’s losing his composure, but still Pierce keeps taunting him.
“Why does he do that?” I say. “Isn’t there sportsmanship?”
“It’s a strategy,” Chance informs me. “Getting into his head, getting him uneven mentally.”
“Isn’t that cheap?”
He shrugs. “Anything to win.”
Stocky lunges, but Pierce dodges him easily. He captures Stocky’s arm, twists it behind his back, and then kicks out his legs again, sending him face-first to the floor. The sound is a deep, loud, single thump, and I’m reminded of the time I once dropped a bowling ball in the lane.