et’s go, then.”
“Not until you come to terms with whatever is wrong with you. You haven’t been this far off in the whole time I’ve been training you. You look like garbage, young man.”
Ray was nothing if not a straight shooter. He was too damn old—as he would always say—to mince words. Normally, he was encouraging though; especially so on fight night. It was a trainer’s number one priority to make sure his fighter was mentally ready. That’s why his words had some steam on them.
“Ray, I’m cool, I swear.”
“It started off with poor sessions the last few weeks at the gym and it’s carried over to tonight. At first I thought you’d be able to snap out of it, but now I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Well, this sure as shit isn’t helping,” I said.
“I’m warning you, if you try to go out there with this trash, then Webster is gonna kick your ass. You’re a great talent—probably the best I’ve ever had—but this is the big time, now. That other fighter you’re going up against? He’s good too. You might get away with beating these lower level guys with less than your best, but not him.”
“I’ll find it when I get out there.”
“No, take five minutes to get your head together and we’ll try again. When you come back to me, I want you to be focused and on point with your striking.”
Ray shuffled out of the dressing room. Even when he was pissed off he couldn’t move fast.
“What’s up with you?” Blake asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t look good, Troy. You’ve been moping around back here all night like you’re Eeyore or some-fuckin’-body and you don’t even seem pumped up to fight. What happened to the guy who used to live for this stuff?”
“He’s still in there,” I said.
“Shit, we’ve fought in some of the worst dumps in Chicago and you were always ready to go. Now, we’re in an actual arena with a legit promotion and you act like you don’t even care. Hell, Troy, there’re T.V. cameras out there. This thing is being broadcast on some cable network.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Your whole life has been leading up to this night. Start actin’ like it.”
Ray popped back into the dressing room and shoved the mitts on to his hands a second time. “We’re going out right after they come back from commercial break. Now, hit these again and show me what you’re gonna do.”
I threw a high jab and it landed like it used to. “Good! Good! Do it again.”
I put another one out there and then an overhand right. Each hit the pad the way I was used to. Maybe the little pep talk worked. Right as I prepared to throw a combination, a short man in a white polo shirt poked his head into the room. He was wearing a headset with a microphone on it and it looked like he was listening to some instructions.
“Guys,” he said. “We’re coming back from the T.V. break in thirty seconds. It’s time to make your entrance to the cage.”
“Alright, Son, you’re ready. Here we go,” said Ray.
“You got this,” Blake chimed.
The hallway was long. It wrapped around the seating area and led to a cordoned walk way that spilt a path through the crowd all the way to the cage. As I traversed the bowels of the venue, I focused on my breathing.
“Hold up right here for a second,” said the little guy with the headset. He put his hand to his ear and stopped us right in front of the curtain. “Okay, you can walk out whenever you’re ready.”
The lights in the arena flickered and my walk-out music erupted through the PA system. I took a deep breath and bent to the task in front of me.
It was my time.
Riley
I couldn’t go. There was no way. Not tonight.
It took me until after I’d already gotten to the airport to make my decision, but I knew it was the right thing for me. Now, I was sprinting across O’Hare International in a desperate attempt to get back to my car so I could make it in time.
I got strange looks from all directions. Normally, people were running the other way so they could catch their flight. I might have been the first person to run so fast away from the planes in the history of the airport.
“Excuse me, pardon me.” I shoved my way through the throngs of people waiting in baggage claim. They looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.
I still had no idea if I could really trust him, but my heart told me I could.
I reached my car in record time and slammed it into reverse. It wasn’t until I was paying the lot fee that I realized I’d checked my luggage. At least my winter coat would get to tour Charles de Gaulle.
Traffic merged as people tried to get back on the freeway. I saw a tiny hole spot of daylight between two SUVs and I didn’t hesitate to race for it. Somebody honked at me and I gave an apologetic wave in their general direction. Troy was supposed to go on by eight. There was no way I was going to miss it.
My friends would’ve gotten a kick out of the way I was driving. I was known in our circle of friends as the “overly-cautious” one when it came to being behind the wheel. I’m not sure I’d ever driven more than five over the limit in my whole life. Tonight, however, I could’ve passed for an Indy pace car driver.
“Siri, give me directions to the Allstate Arena.”
“Here are driving directions to: State Road Eighty-Nine.”
“No! You piece of shit. Take me to Allstate Area.”
“Here are driving directions to Allstate Arena. You are currently seven minutes away from your destination.”
“Thank you!”
I jetted across four lanes to make my exit. Thankfully, the parking situation wasn’t too bad. When I finally pulled into a spot, it was just after eight.
I ran full-speed through the security line. It was empty aside from one daydreaming guard who didn’t look up until it was too late. “Miss, you have to stop here first!”
Not today.
I barreled down to the lower level, dodging fight fans the whole way. I had no idea it was this big of a deal. Music boomed from the speaker system. The cage appeared to be empty. It looked like I’d made it in time.
“Hey! You need a ticket to be down here?”
Another security guard was quickly closing in on me from behind.
“I’m with one of the fighters,” I said.
She gave an annoyed grunt and thrust her clipboard in front of her. “Which one?”
I looked to my left just in time to see him coming down the walkway. He was wearing dark blue trunks and had a satin robe draped over his back. The robe had “Eason” stitched in gold across it. “Him!” I shouted. “That one, right there.”
“Is that Troy Eason?”
“Yes, that’s him!”
I was being jostled from side to side as people tried to get to their seats. The anticipation and energy was building around me. People seemed excited to see this fight.
“Are you on the list?”
I hadn’t heard anything about a list. “I don’t know. My name is Riley Beckett.”
The security guard flipped through a couple of pages on her clipboard. “Oh yeah, here you are!”
Perfect.
“But you need to come with me. The section for friends and family is down here. I’ll show you to your seat.”
“Thank you!”
A minute later I was standing cage-side as the thousands in attendance screamed their excitement. Seeing Troy walk with such confidence made me realize that I’d definitely decided correctly in canceling my flight. The magnitude of my time spent away from him didn’t fully hit me until right then. I missed him like crazy.
“Troy!”
I screamed his name at the top of my lungs but he didn’t hear. No one could hear a thing. It was electric in the building.
“Troy!” I waved my arms. He couldn’t have been more than ten feet away from me, but he never looked up. From looking at his profile, I could tell he was totally and completely in the zone. Even if he
and I were the only two people there, his focus might have been strong enough to block out my screams.
That was fine. It was just how I wanted him. He needed to be completely dedicated to the task and seeing me might break his concentration.
I hadn’t had a chance to feel nervous about this fight before now. Because of all the drama, I didn’t have time to worry about this. Now, it was very real. There was a chance he could get hurt out there and I didn’t like it.
Troy’s opponent came to the cage next. He was slightly shorter than Troy, but still a monster. His thighs looked like tree trunks and his neck was as thick as a stump, too.
He was dripping from head to toe in bad tattoos and his head was shaved close on the sides. He looked to be everything Troy wasn’t, which I was thankful for.
I watched Troy bounce on his toes and shadow box. He looked smooth and ready. If he was nervous, it didn’t show.
The house lights dimmed and the announcer took the microphone. “Ladies and Gentleman, thank you and welcome to tonight’s main event. This is moment you’ve all been waiting for.”
Cheers erupted behind me and they seemed to roll through the crowd with growing energy.
“In the blue corner is a mixed martial artist from right here in Chicago, Illinois. He’s undefeated as an amateur fighter and is making his pro debut this very night. Introducing, from the windy city, Troy Eason!”
Troy raised one hand when his name was called while he continued to bounce on his toes. He was completely unfazed.
“In the red corner is his opponent, a mixed martial artist from Ann Arbor, Michigan. He holds a record of seven wins and zero losses as a professional fighter. Please welcome to the cage Brandon ‘The Barbarian’ Webster.”
The lights raised and the fighters met in the center of the cage. The referee went over the rules and the two of them touched gloves and retreated to their respective corners.
The bell rung.
I put my hands over my eyes.
Troy
I thought she was going to be here. It’s what gave me the juice to come out and find my focus. But when I looked around the crowd that final time before the bell rang, and she wasn’t out there, it took something out of me.