“Think we’ve got a ringer or two, do they?”
Maddox nodded.
Deacon glanced at Blaze. No doubt he was a ringer. The guy had huge amounts of talent, but skill didn’t matter when he burned himself out midway through the second round. So he’d undergone different conditioning exercises to increase his aerobic threshold, and he’d been learning how to keep energy in reserve. But he was a good six months out from testing that in the ring against a real opponent.
“What’s your gut instinct?” Gil asked Maddox.
Several long moments passed before Maddox spoke. “Go one better than just supplying a fighter. Have Black Arts MMA and Black and Blue Promotions create a big splash. Put Katie in charge of a PR blitz, with Hardwick’s help. Host a party, displaying all of our fighters and all the jujitsu instructors from Black Arts and ABC. It’d be a perfect opportunity for Sensei Black to talk about his recent association with the House of Kenji and remind everyone how Black Arts MMA was born out of a respected dojo, steered by a highly respected master with an eighth-degree black belt.”
Dead silence stretched across the table. Even the ladies had stopped gabbing.
Finally Blue grinned. “That’s a fantastic idea. Who else have you told this to?”
“Ronin and Amery.”
“They’re on board?” Deacon asked skeptically.
Maddox looked at him. “One hundred percent. Shocked the shit out of me too. In fact, it was Ronin’s idea we meet here tonight. He wants our input. We’ll have a formal meeting with everyone tomorrow.”
“You want both Katie and me taking notes tonight?” Molly asked.
“Yes. That way we’ll have all the bases covered when we pitch the final proposal to Master Black.”
Concern pinched Molly’s brow before she said, “Shouldn’t Amery take the lead on this project?”
“She told me that as Ronin’s wife she’d be in a different role at the event. This will be Katie’s deal—and yours—to create a workable plan on short notice. The fight expo is one week from tonight.”
Then everyone started talking at once. Between the noise level in the bar and the increasingly loud discussion at the table, Deacon couldn’t decipher anything. He put his fingers in his mouth and released a shrill whistle.
All eyes zoomed to him.
“Before y’all get into the gritty details of the dog and pony show, I wanna know if we’re bringing a fighter. And who that’s gonna be.”
Maddox glanced across the table. “Fee will be representing Black Arts. TGL won’t be expecting that, and they’ll have to scramble to find a female fighter.”
Gil gaped at Fee. Then he let loose in Portuguese. One didn’t need to understand the language to know that Gil was chewing Fee’s ass.
When Fee stood, yelling back at him, holding her drink aloft as if to toss it in Gil’s face, Blue intervened—physically and verbally.
They both shut up.
Then Blue looked at Maddox. “Sorry for the interruption. ABC is honored you’ve chosen Sophia to represent the Black Arts MMA program.”
Deacon needed a shot of Jäger. No one noticed when he headed to the bar. He’d been in Diesel enough times that Shoshanna, the weekend bartender, had the shot poured and in front of him before he ordered.
“Thanks.”
This great plan of Maddox’s had taken Deacon by surprise. While having Fee fight would be a novelty, it wasn’t the least bit representative of Maddox’s new fighters.
What got his back up was the suspicion that Maddox wasn’t confident enough in any of his fighters to showcase them. Ivan had finally won enough matches to reach professional status. So out of the five fighters on Black Arts MMA roster, only Deacon and Ivan had the fight records that’d interest one of the major MMA fight organizations in signing them.
In the year since Maddox had been hired to revamp the Black Arts MMA program, it didn’t seem he’d done as much as he should have. Deacon knew that Ronin had re-upped Maddox’s contract for another year. What had Maddox done to earn it?
Normally he didn’t think about this crap. It wasn’t his job to critique Maddox’s job performance. As long as Maddox worked with him and Deacon kept winning, the rest shouldn’t matter.
“Whatcha thinking about so hard?”
Deacon jumped. Christ. He hadn’t even heard Beck approach him.
“You look guilty. Ah. You’re just away from Maddox’s scrutiny so you can indulge in a shot.”
“Yep.” He pointed to his shot glass. “Want one? I’m buying.”
“Jäger? Sure.”