“It’s not that dangerous.” Noah tried to placate me. “I’ve been working with professional trainers for over a year now. I’m a better fighter than he is.”
“This is a no-rules fight, though. You could get hurt,” I pleaded. When he remained silent and continued to ready himself, I tried a different angle.
“Yes, I know I’ve lived a fortunate life. But, Noah, if I needed the money, wouldn’t you give it to me?” I argued.
“It’s not the same.” He pulled on shorts and then sweatpants over top. “Dammit. All my wraps are at the gym.” He loped to the door and yelled downstairs. “Bo, I need some wraps.”
“It is the same thing. Do you care more about the money than me?” I asked.
“Don’t make it about you. It’s not about you,” Noah snapped.
“Don’t do this, Noah. You’ll get hurt. I have the money. ”
“I don’t want your money. Did you know that one of the most celebrated fighters in MMA history is a guy who lost by technical knockout? Helio Grace wouldn’t give up even after his opponent had broken his arm in two places. He was lionized after the fight for his refusal to submit and tap out. Finally, after his arm was broken twice, someone from his corner threw the towel in and ended the match,” Noah went on.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I cried.
“It’s about being able to hold my head up. I’ve got some skill, Grace. I can make something for me, for us, but I’m going to have to use my hands to do it. Take a few knocks. Look at your fucking apartment, Grace, or this place here. This is where you’re comfortable, and I’m going to make this my world even if I have to break a few eye sockets to do it.”
Nothing I was going to say would penetrate his thick head. Bo appeared at the doorway and handed over some wraps to Noah. We wordlessly exchanged frustrated and worried glances, but remained silent. Noah had set his course and no one was going to deter him. Neither his best friend nor his girlfriend, if that was what I was.
Noah was dressed in sweats, a tank top, and tennis shoes. His wraps and a change of clothing were stuffed in a gym bag. Mal came up the stairs. “It’s all set up. We’ll meet in an hour at the old zipper factory building south of downtown on East Sixth.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Noah said.
“You will not.” I told him. I marched over and picked up his gym bag. “If you’re going to fight then any post-game celebrating will be with me.” My smart remark broke the tension that had built up, and everyone laughed.
“She told you,” Bo said.
“I guess she did.” Noah didn’t take his eyes off me. “Okay then, Grace, you’re with me.”
***
“Worried?” Noah asked me when we were back in his truck. He had taken the time to help me up into the cab before going around and getting in the driver’s seat, his prior lapse of manners completely unnoticed. It was a sign of how upset he was before and how calm and in control he was now.
“Yes.” I didn’t want to be, but I had never experienced this before. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Noah.
“Don’t be. I’ll win. He’s a T-Rex.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s got short arms, short reach.”
“Nice,” I laughed as Noah had intended and then tried to return the favor. “Too bad we are on our way to have you roll around with some guy instead of back at my apartment to wrestle in bed.”
“We can wrestle later,” he said, preoccupied. He didn’t even come back with some sexual comment as he ordinarily would. I gave up.
“Tell me about the fight tonight. Maybe if you explain more, I won’t be so afraid,” I said, hoping to borrow his confidence.
“As long as everyone keeps their mouth shut, there isn’t going to be a problem.” Underground fighting, Noah explained, was done by all kinds of men of all different body shapes. He figured most of them had rage issues, and this was a safe place to let them out. One guy he knew fought regularly and did so not to win, but for the adrenaline rush from the pain. But he often won because he wouldn’t quit. This guy loved to take a punch—the more brutal, the better. Noah contemplated that it was almost a sexual thing for the guy.
“I’m not sure how he explains that at work the next day,” Noah admitted. Many of the fighters refused to get medical attention because the more injuries there were, the greater the likelihood that the underground fights would be discovered. Noah said, with a few colorful curses, that this was the dumbest fucking thing ever.
The worst were the wannabes, he went on. There were dickhead fight clubs where people brought shit like pillowcases full of rocks and frying pans. “You’re just asking for a concussion.”
“Really? That seems kind of unfair. Are there other fights?”
“There’re all kinds. Stupid suburban kids, mostly jocks, thinking they’re the shit. Then there are the felony fights, where they pit two former felons against each other. It’s like the Christians versus the lions with the promoter acting like fucking Cesar. Thumbs up or thumbs down. Everyone in the audience thinking they are cooler than shit,” he sneered.
“Are there rules or officials?”
“Not really. There is the promoter, who sets up the fight, like Mal, and a couple of people that monitor the bets. You can have a corner, but they can’t interfere.”
We entered downtown and pulled onto some side street, parking behind a warehouse. It was dark and quiet, but Noah made no move to exit. He leaned against his truck door and turned to me.
“Who are you fighting tonight?”
“DJ Rickers, who got kicked out of UFC for using steroids. I know he feels like he was unfairly singled out, but no one will sign him now because performance-enhancing drugs are ruining sports. He’s wanted to fight a UFC fighter for a long time and will pay a lot of money to do it.”
“You aren’t UFC,” I pointed out thinking that maybe Rickers wouldn’t even show up to fight.
“I’m an ‘up-and-comer,’” Noah said, “and that’s enough for Rickers. He knows me and my reputation.”
“You think you can win?” I asked hopeful.
“I know I can,” was his immediate and confident response.
I nodded, relieved, but still a bit upset. He opened his door and gestured for me to wait. I really disliked waiting to have my door opened, but I knew from past experience that this was important to Noah. He helped me down, but stayed my hand when I reached in for my bag. “Don’t bring anything in,” he said. “You don’t need anything.”
“What about my phone or ID?”
“No one is carding you, and I have mine.” Noah took my hand and pulled me close.
“Noah,” I tugged on his hand. “I will feel really uncomfortable without a phone in there and no cash or ID or anything.”
“Are you okay with your phone in your pocket?”
I grimaced and wondered if my pockets were even deep enough to hold a phone. He bent down so his face was close to mine. “I’ll hold it for now and then when Finn comes, he can hold it. I need your hands free. Stay with me at all times. Don’t let go of me. Grab my wrist, my pants, my shirt. It can be crowded, and the people in there will be rowdy. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He waited for me to assent. I nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted oral acknowledgment.
I gave a big audible sigh so that he was aware I found this a bit tedious. “I promise I will stay with you at all times and that I will attach myself like a barnacle to some part of your body.”
“Just wanted to know we are on the same page,” he said, clucking his tongue in mock admonishment.
I handed the phone to Noah, and he tucked it into his front pocket. I tapped it with my fingers. “Isn’t it uncomfortable down there?”
“No, but if you pat me a little to the left, it might become uncomfortable.” Ah, teasing Noah was back. He wasn’t at all concerned about his fight. I hoped he wasn’t being overconfident.
“Is this the place?” I gestured toward the seemingly empty warehouse building.
“No. You can’t all park next to the building, or the cops will know what is going on. The building is five blocks from here.”
That meant walking in the darkened streets. Kind of creepy. Noah’s admonition to stay close and hold his hand really didn’t need to be repeated out here. I slid my arm around his back and tucked myself under his arm. I wasn’t so foolish as to not appreciate his protection. “This doesn’t look safe.”
“Safe places are well lit and observed by regular folks. Underground fighting kind of means unsafe and unknown.”
“I’m going to pretend we’re going to a rave, just so you know.”
“Stick close to me, and you won’t get roofied.”
“That’s a pleasant thought.”
Noah drew me close to his side and we started walking across the empty parking lot at a quick pace. Noah’s jeans rang and he pulled his phone out. “Where are you?” He barked into the phone. He listened for a moment and said, “Mulberry and East 6th. We’ll meet you at the entrance. Text me when you get there.”
Noah ended the call and tucked his phone away.
It sounded grim and dirty and not at all romantic. “Who will be here? Women?”
“You would not believe the women there,” Noah replied, rolling his eyes toward me. “From the suburban mom to the punked-out chicks. They’re turned on by the fighting, I guess.”
I clutched his hand a little tighter, which caused Noah to lean down. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I know you will,” I said with conviction. “I trust you.”
His eyes, lit by the moonlight and the stars, darkened a bit, and he stopped. We both understood I meant for more than for just this one night and one moment. With both hands on my hips, he drew me close so that we were flush from head to toe. “You won’t regret that.”
His mouth came down onto mine with almost a bruising pressure, as if he were trying to brand his message into my body. My hands clenched around his biceps, and I felt them flex slightly underneath me as his arms folded around my back and pressed me hard against him. When he lifted his head, we were both breathing heavily. Even through our two layers of denim, I could feel the outline of his hard-on against me.
“No more distracting me,” he said, his eyes glittering. His mouth tipping up at the corners.
“No sir,” I replied, cheekily. “I won’t stop you and force your arms around me again.”
“Smart ass.” He turned toward a side door of a large brick building that had a dim red bulb above it. No one was standing around outside. Noah rapped out strange pattern on the door. In response, the door opened immediately, and a large man with dirty blond dreads greeted us. “Noah Jackson, what are you doing here?”
“I’m fighting here tonight. Against Rickers.”
Dreadlocks shook his head, the tail ends of his hair swinging slightly. “That’s bad news. What about the UFC?”
“If everyone keeps their traps locked down, it will be fine. Deke, this is my girl, Grace. Keep an eye out for her. She’s precious cargo,” Noah gestured for me to enter. I stepped forward and felt my hand engulfed in Deke’s giant paw. Noah handed Deke a few bills.
“Nice to meet you, Grace,” Deke grunted. After I returned the pleasantry, he pointed down a dark hallway. “Go to the back room. No one wants you to get in trouble. You’re our hometown boy.” Before Deke could close the door, Finn rushed in.
“Great, I caught you. I can never remember the stupid knock,” he panted, clearly having run quickly to make it through before the door was closed. Finn and Deke exchanged greetings and money, and then we all left Deke at the door to venture down the dark hallway.
“I feel like I’m in some bad Halloween movie, and Freddie is going to jump out with his chainsaw at any moment.” I shivered under Noah’s arm.
“I thought the chainsaw guy was Jason.” Finn draped his arm around my back and patted my head.
“Finn, make sure no one mauls Grace tonight, okay?” Noah ordered, pushing Finn’s arm away and drawing me closer to his side.
“Will do,” he replied, unperturbed that Noah seemed to be creating a pocket of space between Finn and me—as if even his friends were not allowed within a certain distance.
At the end of the hallway, a tiny bit of light seeped out underneath a nearly hidden doorway. Noah didn’t bother to knock this time. He just opened the door. Inside were the remnants of an office. Filing cabinets were stacked on top of each other, some perpendicular to the floor, and there was a battered desk with its drawers open and askew, like a lady of the night with her heels kicked off and her pantyhose around her ankles. It was somewhat obscene. Two sofas, with cushions that were nearly flattened by use or age, were positioned opposite the desk. Next to the sofa stood Bo, Mal, and Adam. Bo held out his hand for the bag Noah carried.