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  “Oh nothing, I was just listening to you,” she said. I could tell that there was more on her mind than that. “Why don’t you just talk to him, Emmi? Aren’t you the one advocating communication all the time? Don’t get mad, but hiding in your room every time things get a little weird between you two isn’t the way to handle it.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him, Zoe,” I said, hoping she would leave it at that.

  “Why not? Why don’t you just tell him what you just told me?”

  She wasn’t going to let it go. I hooked my fingers around my head and paced for a minute while she watched me. I was really going stir-crazy hiding. At last I looked at her.

  “Because, Zoe. When I look at his face and into his eyes all I see is the guy that I’m crazy about. I see the one who can be so sweet and funny, the one that I could so easily be falling in love with, and I forget about everything else. Wednesday night when I chased him up the street, if he would have just apologized then or acted even a little bit remorseful I probably would have forgotten how he behaved and given in.”

  “And that would be bad…giving in?”

  “Yes. It would be bad because nothing would have really changed. I don’t want to be with a guy who loses it because I’m talking to someone else, no matter how much I… feel about him. He didn’t know who Trent was at the time and he didn’t bother to stop and ask questions or let me explain. He just went ballistic and I know you were there, but it was scary. Didn’t you think it was frightening the way he just punched him like that?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. She was probably one of the ones in the crowd cheering him on. “If I just let it go this time, how could I be sure that it won’t happen again and again?”

  She shrugged. “You’d have to trust him.”

  This from a girl who snooped on her boyfriend’s computer and now she thinks he’s gay even though he says that he’s not. It’s so easy to see things wrong in other people’s lives or relationships.

  “I don’t think I can trust him anymore and it’s not about cheating or other women. It’s about the rage that for whatever reason he has inside of him. I think that has a lot to do with why he fights. If he didn’t, just imagine what kind of problems he would have. The fighting is a release for him and I’m okay with that as long as it stays in the cage. But I don’t want to worry every time we go out that if a guy looks at me sideways Braxton is going to get in a fight. That’s the problem.”

  “I just think that he’s really sorry he handled this so wrong. He texted me last night,” Zoe informed me. My eyes grew wide, wondering why she was only now casually mentioning this. “He said you won’t talk to him and he wanted me to tell you how sorry he is.”

  I gave out a long sigh and dropped down next to her. The funny thing was that I really didn’t doubt Braxton was sorry for his behavior…

  “I think he probably is sorry, Zoe. He probably realized five minutes after he did it that it was wrong. But a person, especially a guy as strong as Braxton can do a lot of damage in five minutes, damage that can’t be undone a lot of the time. I don’t think he’s a bad guy. His judgment is just really messed up and from what I know of his family, I can see why. I don’t want to be with someone who goes straight to violence before he tries anything else. That scares me.”

  “What about his underground fight this coming weekend? How will you avoid that? Don’t you have to shoot it for the paper?”

  “No, thank goodness. Sarah assigned a girl named Hannah. She’s new and needed the experience and I was more than happy to give it to her. I didn’t tell Sarah how happy, but she knew that I didn’t really want to go. Me showing up would just send him the wrong message. He would take it that I’m not being firm in my decision to end this.”

  “So that’s what you’ve decided already? You’re just done?”

  “You say that like it was an easy decision. It wasn’t. I’ve been agonizing over it day and night. I… I care so much about him. I wanted it to work out.”

  I knew I kept dancing around the “L” word and I hoped Zoe couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to say that. If I did, then all of this would be much harder.

  “What are you going to do, Emmi? You can’t hide in your room for the rest of the year that you signed the lease for.”

  Always the voice of reason. I wondered if she thought that I hadn’t considered that part of the problem. I could get out of the lease, but it would cost me money that I didn’t have and I’d be left without a place to stay.

  “I know I can’t keep hiding. I just need some time to figure out exactly what it is I want to do before I talk to him. I don’t want to be wishy-washy about it at all or he’ll use his considerable charms to sway me back to his side. As far as getting through the rest of the year in this house… I don’t know about that either. It’s going to be hard and I should have really given that part more consideration before I got into a relationship with my roommate. You know what they say about hindsight.”

  Zoe was sweet enough to let me change the subject after that. I showed her a new dress my mom had bought and sent to me and then we talked about clothes and make-up for a while. This was why she was my best friend.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BRAXTON

  I was racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to get Emmi to talk to me. I thought if I could just get her to listen… I could make her understand what had been going through my head and how sorry I was for the way I reacted.

  “Let it go,” Sam told me.

  We were sitting in the humid back room of the warehouse and waiting for it to be my turn to fight. Sam had already helped me wrap my hands and given me his scoop on the guy I would be fighting. I was putting Vaseline under my eyes and sweating it off almost as quickly.

  “Let what go?” I asked.

  I thought maybe I had missed part of a conversation. I should have known better though. As usual Sam was reading my mind.

  “The girl. You need to get her out of your head and stay focused. This is the round of sixteen. I don’t even have to tell you how important this is.”

  “No, you don’t. I know how important this is. I’m the one who has gotten my ass kicked over and over to get here. All I have in my head is walking out of here tonight on my way to the next round.”

  “Right,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Well, as you’re getting your ass kicked once again, try telling yourself that.”

  Sam wasn’t really an asshole. It was how he motivated me. It usually worked.

  “I’m a machine Sam, remember? I don’t feel anything. I just deliver the retribution.”

  I grinned at him and hoped that it sounded more convincing to him than it did to my ears. It didn’t.

  “You spit those words out nicely boy, but your eyes give you away. They’re a million miles from this fight tonight.”

  He was wrong about that. They were only about six point eight miles from here. That’s how far it is from mine and Emmi’s apartment to the warehouse. I had left her still holed up in her room. I had the urge to act like a caveman and break down the door, throw her over my shoulder and haul her out. I suspected that might make things worse though, so I left her a ticket hoping when I left she would come out, find it, and decide she just had to see me. It’s a nice thought, but I didn’t really believe it. I seriously doubted she’d come, but I also knew it wouldn’t keep me from hoping and checking for her in the crowd.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been so frustrated. She wouldn’t answer my knocks, my texts, or my phone calls. She hadn’t said one word to me since Wednesday night and for most of the past five days she managed to avoid even seeing me. When she did see me in passing, it was like she was looking right through me.

  All I wanted was a chance to say that I was sorry. I knew the way I reacted was wrong. Aren’t people entitled to make mistakes as long as they admit responsibility and apologize? That’s all I was asking her to do, give me a chance to admit that I was wrong and say that I was sorry. I don’t know what I’d do if
she never talked to me again. Just a month ago, this thing with Emmi was all a game. She was the one that I had to chase and catching her was a challenge. But it had turned into much more than that before I even realized it. Emmi’s the first girl I ever had any real feelings for and now it might even be beyond that. I thought I was falling in… love with her. I didn’t know one hundred percent yet. What I did know was that my heart beat faster at the sound of her name. My body reacted to her when we had sex like it never had with any other woman. I thought of her as soon as I woke up. I thought of her before I went to sleep. I loved to see her smile and I would do anything to make her happy.

  I was in love.

  “Braxton!” Sam was yelling at me, right next to my ear.

  “What? Why are you yelling?”

  Sam sighed. “It’s been a good run, kid.”

  This time I think he was serious and not just trying to motivate me.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked him.

  “You’re up, and you didn’t even hear them call your name because you were so deep inside your own head. How the hell are you going to go out there and fight like this? You’re so distracted I don’t even trust you to protect yourself. Let it go, Braxton. Leave it here or your opponent is going to leave your dead body in that cage tonight.”

  The announcer called my name again.

  “I’ve got this. Let’s go.”

  I jogged out through the crowd. It was a packed house, standing room only, and people were on their feet, screaming my name. I tried to block out everything else in my head and focus on that. I knew I could do this.

  “I’ll talk to Emmi when I get home,” I repeated under my breath.

  I got up into my corner of the cage and Sam gave me last minute advice about my opponent. His fight name was Street Sweeper Sal. That didn’t sound all that tough as I observed the guy bouncing in the other corner. He was a dark-skinned Italian guy who was about my height. He may have been just a little bulkier than me in muscle, but I had learned that fighting was like sex, size didn’t really matter. It’s the skill that you execute it with. Sam smacked me on the back.

  “Do this Braxton,” he grunted.

  I jogged out to the middle of the cage to meet the referee and Sal. The referee gave his usual spiel about a fair fight, fouls, and penalties. Then he told us to shake. Sal already had his mouth guard in. He looked evil as he smiled around it and then he pushed it forward with his tongue.

  “I’m gonna kick your ass white boy and then I’m going to fuck your girlfriend.”

  Once again, I lost my head. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was saying something like that about Emmi? I got in his face. My fists were clenched and ready to go, but at least I remembered to keep them at my sides and I didn’t pair one up with his ugly face.

  “You’re going to wish you’d never said that asshole!” I boasted.

  He grinned again and pushed the guard forward.

  “I saw her at Lou’s with that other guy you knocked out. She looks like a real sweet piece of….”

  Those words sent me over the top. I threw a punch before he finished the thought. The difference between this guy and Emmi’s ex was twofold. He was expecting it and he knew how to dodge it and throw one back. His fist connected with my ear as I ducked. I could feel the blood instantly start to trickle down inside of it. The crowd was screaming and Sam was yelling. Sal’s trainer was shouting and the referee was between us now, breaking us apart.

  “You boys want to brawl like street thugs you can take it outside of this cage. Not here… you got it?” he yelled into Sal’s face.

  “I got it,” Sal responded.

  “What about you?” he asked me next.

  “I got it,” I said.

  I was going to wax the floor with his piece of shit face.

  I went back to my corner and Sam shook his head. “The octagon ain’t no place for hotheads.”

  I didn’t say anything. I knew he was right, but I was pissed and I was ready to fight… just like the night I punched Emmi’s ex in the face. Maybe I did need to re-evaluate why I did this. I’d do that tomorrow. Right now I had an Italian to beat into the ground.

  I had to give Sal credit right off the bat for coming out of his corner ready to fight. His feet were moving fast and before I even got close enough he was throwing out a jab and a cross. Judging by that, I thought I knew what was coming first. I was dead wrong. As I prepared myself for the right jab and left cross I was suddenly caught on the side of my face by a left elbow strike. I could feel the old cut I had above my eye slice open and as I tried to adjust to the blood that was now running into my eye, he threw the jab and hit me again right in the fucking cut.

  I knew I had to keep moving. This guy was fast. I wasn’t even sure if I could get him in a clinch or if that would only be putting me in position for another elbow strike. My feet were dancing and I was protecting the right side of my face more than the left. One more hit to that spot and I might lose my sight in that eye before the end of the fight from the swelling.

  I had an idea that could end with me pummeled again, but I didn’t let myself think about it too much before I executed. I slowed down my feet and for a fraction of a second I dropped my glove away from the left side of my face. He came in as I knew he would, right fist ready to jab. As his right fist came away from his face I brought out the hammer fist, striking him hard with the bottom of my closed fist on the underside of his jaw.

  The crowd was screaming at me to hit him again, but I didn’t want to hit him, I wanted to take him down. I was a grappler at heart and I didn’t get the impression that Sal was. It stunned him enough that he stumbled back and the punch he’d thrown initially barely made contact.

  As he was still off balance I went in for the clinch, wrapping my arms around his upper body and driving my forehead into his. He was fighting me for the better hip position and just when I thought we would both go down, the buzzer sounded.

  The ref eased us apart and sent us to our corners. As Sam tended to my cut eye he gave me his observations of Sal’s weaknesses, of which there weren’t many. One thing Sam did notice was that although his feet were rabbit fast, he seemed to stumble back on them often and it always took him a few seconds to regain his balance. That was going to be my upper hand, to get this guy off balance and falling on his back to the floor.

  Sam rubbed the enswell across the cut over my eye. It was fucking freezing, but that was the point. Hemorrhaging in the ring wouldn’t be cool, and the referee always had the option of calling the fight if he thought I might suffer permanent injury to the eye. I didn’t want that either.

  After he took off the enswell he rubbed on some topical adrenaline. That would decrease the blood flow and then he slapped a piece of Gelfoam over it so I’d at least have a tiny little cushion the next time that Sal aimed for it. And I knew he would.

  The bell was calling us back in and this time I at least knew something about the way Sal moved and threw a punch. I danced with him for ten or fifteen seconds before throwing up my foot and kicking him in the thigh. As I had hoped, it caused him to stumble back. He didn’t fall though, so I came at him with multiple leg kicks landing three to the same spot on his left thigh. He still wasn’t going down, but at least the son of a bitch would have trouble getting out of bed in the morning.

  He responded by throwing a kick that landed square in the center of my left knee cap. I wanted nothing more than to crumple to the ground and pull it up into a fetal hug, but I didn’t. I kept fighting and so did Sal. We were matching each other punch for punch, jab for jab, and kick for kick. I was sweating so much that I didn’t know as I felt things drip off my body if it was sweat or blood. I could see blood dripped all over the floor. It looked like overspray after an axe fight, but I wasn’t sure whose blood was whose. I was trying to avoid it- it was slippery underneath my bare feet and the last thing I needed was to fall on my ass.

  Sal was bleeding from a cut right at the corner of h
is eye, one on his cheek, and there was blood oozing out one corner of his mouth. The sweat made the blood thinner and it ran faster off of us making our injuries look even worse than they already were.

  Sal’s leg was already beginning to bruise where I had kicked him repeatedly and he had a black mark across the top of his right foot where I had managed to step and grind while we were dancing. Towards the end of the round we were both just slowly bobbing and weaving. I think we both wanted to hear that buzzer so we could get a full minute off of our feet. When it sounded at last, it was one of the sweetest sounds that I had ever heard.

  Sam did his business fixing up my face again while I reveled in the seat and the cool Gatorade as it slid down the back of my throat.

  “You gotta get him down, Braxton. I don’t know if you’ll hold up under much more of this pummeling. Your face looks like hamburger meat.”

  I could feel it, but Sam verbalizing it only made it that much worse. I usually didn’t want to know how bad I looked- it only made me more gun shy about taking a punch. Sam was right though, I had to get him down.

  I went right for it when the buzzer rang, getting him in a clinch. The crowd was screaming for me to take him down and I tried to feed off of that. We fought for the dominant arm and hip position for a few seconds, but we were both so beaten down and tired that it didn’t take long for us to both hit the floor. When we did I was no longer in a position of control. The angle that I landed in afforded him the ability to begin a ground and pound assault. He unleashed a flurry of punches and elbows and my brain felt like it was bouncing from one side of my skull to the other as flesh tore apart. I had to get up or tap out. I was right on the verge of done. I had to think of something that would get me through the last two minutes of this fight.

  I didn’t want to lose.

  I gathered everything I had left in me and I thought about Emmi. I thought about that guy having his hand on her leg and I thought about Sal saying he was gonna fuck her. I was able to find the strength left in my legs to bring them up off the floor, scissor them open, and wrap them around Sal’s kneeling form. Then I twisted with all of my strength, and as the crowd roared to an almost deafening pitch, Sal went up in the air a few inches and landed on his side with the side of his already bloodied face hitting the floor with force. He tried to continue kicking and punching, but he was exhausted and his head had to be pounding. All I had to do was hold onto the strength in my legs until he tapped out or the buzzer rang. Either way, if I didn’t let go, the fight was mine. I forced my eyes to stay open through the pain. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of his face so I could actually watch as the fight slowly left his body. When the buzzer finally rang he looked relieved as I relaxed my grip.