tonight. Your name will be at the door.
That was it. I hadn’t
seen him all day.
Tentatively, I headed
over to the double doors. Huger than huge men stood at them, bouncers
I guessed, and others took tickets. Sure enough, they had my name and
handed me a program. Trying to calm my nerves, the butterflies
fluttering up in my stomach, I walked into the arena.
It reminded me of some
of the large lecture halls at school, only post-apocalypse. Stadium
seating sloped down on all sides into the center: a 30-foot wide
octagonal ring. With black mesh sides, you could still see everything
that went on inside, but it did look like a cage. I couldn’t
believe Tuck would go down in there, all lights, eyes and cameras on
him while he faced down an opponent. My fingernails went to my mouth.
What if he got hurt? He would almost certainly get hurt.
This was a big deal, a
really big deal. It was so outside the realm of my world, I hadn’t
even realized it. This sport was huge, thousands of fans packing into
a hotel to see an amateur fight. I’d had no idea.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I
flinched against the drunk, hot breath of a big man at my shoulder.
“Are you all red?” He pointed down between my legs. The big guy
next to him giggled, a girlishly high-pitched laugh.
I spun away from them
and headed straight for the bathroom. I shouldn’t have come. Hiding
in a stall for a while, I considered leaving. With all the people and
commotion, Tuck probably wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there. How
could he even see one empty seat in a packed arena? I’d pictured a
handful of people, friends and family of the fighters, their coaches
and teammates. I’d never expected this amount of fans when these
guys weren’t even pros.
But then I thought
about all the time in my life I’d spent hiding out. My nose in a
book, behind my bedroom door. Keeping my head down in the hallway of
my high school, standing off to the side while my mother posed for a
photo. I was tired of it.
Walking out, I put my
hands on my hips and looked myself squarely in the mirror. Lip gloss
and light mascara, hair down and no product, so what if I looked like
a Quaker virgin who’d time-traveled and accidently wound up at a
MMA fight. I was here for Tuck. And, suddenly, I wanted to be.
He needed me. He didn’t
have anyone else in his family there to root for him. From what I’d
seen of his father, he wouldn’t even want Tuck here at all. This
would be considered far beneath him.
I smiled. Good for
Tuck. If there was anything I respected, it was being your own person
despite what people around you expected. Maybe he and I had more in
common than I’d realized?
When I stepped back
into the arena, it was packed. All of the people who’d been milling
about in the lobby had come in and found their seats. The first fight
was about to begin.
I found my way down to
my seat. Five rows back, I’d be just about eye-level with the
fighters. Tuck would definitely be able to see me.
There were a few fights
scheduled before him. Strobe lights flared, sirens and alarm bells
sounded and at first I’d wondered if we were having a fire drill
but, no, it was the first fighter entering the octagon.
“Ladies and
gentlemen!” An announcer’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker and
cheers and howls erupted from the audience, along with the loud, bold
chords of an 80s metal song. “It’s the final countdown!”
A fighter strutted down
the walkway, the cock of the walk, punching the air and looking mean
as hell. The next fighter swaggered in to the beat of Notorious
B.I.G., nodding his head and staring down members of the crowd as if
daring them to get into the cage with him. Everyone around me
screamed and waved signs. They all seemed to know the fighters and
had already picked favorites. The women sure knew which fighters they
wanted and exactly what they wanted to do with them.
“Heat! I want you!”
a woman next to me screamed. She had a full sleeve of tattoos up her
arm.
That was it. I hadn’t
seen him all day.
Tentatively, I headed
over to the double doors. Huger than huge men stood at them, bouncers
I guessed, and others took tickets. Sure enough, they had my name and
handed me a program. Trying to calm my nerves, the butterflies
fluttering up in my stomach, I walked into the arena.
It reminded me of some
of the large lecture halls at school, only post-apocalypse. Stadium
seating sloped down on all sides into the center: a 30-foot wide
octagonal ring. With black mesh sides, you could still see everything
that went on inside, but it did look like a cage. I couldn’t
believe Tuck would go down in there, all lights, eyes and cameras on
him while he faced down an opponent. My fingernails went to my mouth.
What if he got hurt? He would almost certainly get hurt.
This was a big deal, a
really big deal. It was so outside the realm of my world, I hadn’t
even realized it. This sport was huge, thousands of fans packing into
a hotel to see an amateur fight. I’d had no idea.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I
flinched against the drunk, hot breath of a big man at my shoulder.
“Are you all red?” He pointed down between my legs. The big guy
next to him giggled, a girlishly high-pitched laugh.
I spun away from them
and headed straight for the bathroom. I shouldn’t have come. Hiding
in a stall for a while, I considered leaving. With all the people and
commotion, Tuck probably wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there. How
could he even see one empty seat in a packed arena? I’d pictured a
handful of people, friends and family of the fighters, their coaches
and teammates. I’d never expected this amount of fans when these
guys weren’t even pros.
But then I thought
about all the time in my life I’d spent hiding out. My nose in a
book, behind my bedroom door. Keeping my head down in the hallway of
my high school, standing off to the side while my mother posed for a
photo. I was tired of it.
Walking out, I put my
hands on my hips and looked myself squarely in the mirror. Lip gloss
and light mascara, hair down and no product, so what if I looked like
a Quaker virgin who’d time-traveled and accidently wound up at a
MMA fight. I was here for Tuck. And, suddenly, I wanted to be.
He needed me. He didn’t
have anyone else in his family there to root for him. From what I’d
seen of his father, he wouldn’t even want Tuck here at all. This
would be considered far beneath him.
I smiled. Good for
Tuck. If there was anything I respected, it was being your own person
despite what people around you expected. Maybe he and I had more in
common than I’d realized?
When I stepped back
into the arena, it was packed. All of the people who’d been milling
about in the lobby had come in and found their seats. The first fight
was about to begin.
I found my way down to
my seat. Five rows back, I’d be just about eye-level with the
fighters. Tuck would definitely be able to see me.
There were a few fights
scheduled before him. Strobe lights flared, sirens and alarm bells
sounded and at first I’d wondered if we were having a fire drill
but, no, it was the first fighter entering the octagon.
“Ladies and
gentlemen!” An announcer’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker and
cheers and howls erupted from the audience, along with the loud, bold
chords of an 80s metal song. “It’s the final countdown!”
A fighter strutted down
the walkway, the cock of the walk, punching the air and looking mean
as hell. The next fighter swaggered in to the beat of Notorious
B.I.G., nodding his head and staring down members of the crowd as if
daring them to get into the cage with him. Everyone around me
screamed and waved signs. They all seemed to know the fighters and
had already picked favorites. The women sure knew which fighters they
wanted and exactly what they wanted to do with them.
“Heat! I want you!”
a woman next to me screamed. She had a full sleeve of tattoos up her
arm.
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