“Now wait a damn minute.” Intent on correcting them, Armie straightened in his seat. “Cannon’s the hometown hero, not me.”
“That’s not how Cannon tells it.” Havoc indicated the crowd at the bar, including many of his friends. “Or any of the other fighters in your camp.”
Armie thought about pounding all of them. Well, except maybe Cannon. He was long used to Cannon’s never-ending backup. “Why the hell would anyone tell you that bullshit?” It was irritating and ridiculous and he was not a fucking hero.
Misunderstanding, Jude said, “You’re humble. That’s good.”
It felt like his temples tried to compress his brain. “No,” Armie growled out, “I’m not.” He was the outrageous one. The one who bragged. He had no modesty, and he sure as hell wasn’t humble.
“Just take a breath,” Simon encouraged. “It’s all good.”
Sure, if by “all good” he meant seriously fucked. “This is why I avoided the SBC. It’s not me. It’s not—”
“Anonymous enough?” Jude shook his head. “Forget it, Armie. Anonymity is over. We already covered that and I got your word that you were all in.”
“All in on the fighting, not this other nutty psychobabble stuff.”
Havoc ordered him another unsweetened tea. “You’ll be good for the sport, Armie. And believe it or not, the sport will be good for you.”
He didn’t need—what? Anything good? His gaze automatically sought out Rissy. She was as good as it got. A good girl. A good sister, good employee and a good cook. Really good in bed...
Brand and Miles had joined the ladies, so at least Armie knew other men wouldn’t be hitting on her. Calmed by the sight of her and her nearness, he gave his attention back to Jude, Simon and Havoc.
A trio of true badasses. Three of the most elite fighters in the sport. Men who had retired as champions. They had their shit together, and he saw respect in their eyes.
Respect for him.
They wanted him to join in. It wasn’t just Cannon anymore. It wasn’t just his friends at the rec center.
He didn’t know what the fuck to do, so he said, “Fine.” Ignoring all the hero BS, Armie agreed. “I’ll dial down the raunchiness on my tees. Anything else?”
As if they knew they’d won, they each loosened their posture, got comfortable, smiled.
Jude said, “You need a manager—”
“No thanks. I can manage myself. Is that it, then?”
Havoc shook his head. “Cannon will be in your corner?”
“Probably, unless something comes up.”
“So if not him, then who?” Simon asked.
“One of the other guys. Does it matter?”
Jude rubbed his face. “This is the SBC, Armie. As professional as it gets. You need a manager, and you need a dedicated coach, so quit arguing every point, will you?”
Before he could dispute that, Simon said, “You probably know I was Havoc’s manager. Now I’d like to be yours.”
Other fighters would wet themselves for that honor, so how the hell could he refuse it?
“And I’d like to coach you,” Havoc told him.
Armie’s head spun. They were investing more than money in him, and really piling on the trust—because they assumed he’d be worth it. “You know,” he told them softly, “some guys might be intimidated by all these expectations.”
“But not you.” Havoc held his gaze. “I’ll consistently be in your corner, Armie, but I don’t mind if Cannon joins us when he can.”
From one earnest face to the next, Armie sent a forced smile. “Great, thanks. Problem solved.”
Droll, Simon asked, “Why do I get the feeling he’s still not taking this seriously?”
Seeing them exasperated made Armie feel better, so he didn’t mind annoying them a little more with a reminder. “You just told me you like my methods.”
“No,” Jude said. “Spectators like it.”
“I’m thinking about coming out of retirement,” Simon said with menace.
Armie laughed. “Anxious to kick my ass, huh?”
Cocking a brow, Simon asked, “Could I?”
Armie shrugged and said, “No one is invincible.” He’d let Simon wonder if he meant him, or himself.
Simon laughed. “Tell you what. Come to my camp for your last two weeks of prep. We’ll have you sparring more, doing drills, and we can work on cage strategy. I have some guys who’ve already fought Carter. They can give you some pointers.”
“I’ve seen him fight.” Carter “Chaos” Fletcher liked to constantly switch gears, going from boxing to kicking to takedowns and submission attempts. Armie knew how Carter worked, had seen his strengths and his weaknesses. Carter was good at a lot of things, but not great at any of them. He was fast, but not precise. Armie had seen plenty of holes in his game, so he wasn’t worried.
Besides, the possibility of picking up and relocating didn’t thrill him, and he knew why. It was beyond idiotic, but he dreaded leaving Merissa for two weeks. Not only would he worry about her because of what she’d gone through at the bank, but their relationship was very new, and he had no idea how long it’d last.
What was he? A snotty-nosed mama’s boy?
Proving himself to be astute, Havoc eyed him, then suggested, “Or maybe since Cannon swears you’re his right hand, Simon and I could bring a few guys here to work with you.”
“Yeah.” Armie jumped on it. “If it’s not too much trouble, let’s do that.”
Simon laughed. “Know who he reminds me of?”
“Handleman?” Havoc guessed.
“Yeah. Same chip on his shoulder, same dislike of promo.”
Fuck, Armie hated comparisons. “Harley retired as a champ.” As had each of the men at the table with him.
“That he did.” Jude lifted his drink in a toast. “To talented assholes who give new meaning to stubbornness.”
Havoc and Simon said, “Hear, hear.”
Armie couldn’t help it. A genuine smile cracked, and once it did, they all laughed. He’d gotten through his first round of SBC planning, and although he’d lost a few, he’d also won a few.
Best of all, he’d be sticking close to Merissa, so he could chalk up the rest as no big deal.
CHAPTER TEN
“THE BAR SURE is crowded tonight,” Cherry complained when two women rushed by and one bumped her elbow, almost spilling her drink.
Brand smiled at them both, his sinfully dark eyes teasing. “You ladies haven’t noticed that we have celebrities among us?”
“Who?” Merissa looked around but couldn’t see past the crowd.
“Armie’s with them. Opposite side of the room.”
“Armie is here?” Just knowing he was near made her heart race. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. He came in with Jude Jamison, Simon and Dean.”
“Why?”
Brand rolled one bulky shoulder. As a heavyweight, he was a big guy with plenty of thick muscle. “Everyone is really pumped about him signing on with the SBC.”
Miles leaned in. “Word is, they’re courting him.”