Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I didn’t tell him, but I thought a road trip sounded fantastic. “Do we need to rent a car?”
“Actually, I have a car,” he told me. “It’s in the parking garage. I just hardly ever drive it.”
I gave him a skeptical look.
“Don’t worry. I’m a great driver. If I hadn’t gone into fighting, I probably would have been a race car driver.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring.”
10
THE anticipation of our road trip was killing me. Before, I’d been sweating the actual appearance and trying to pretend I wasn’t a stupid college kid from Stone Mountain, Georgia. But now that the trip was imminent, I was more worried about all of the time Kage and I would spend closed up in a car together. Plus, Kage had suggested that we get a hotel room the night of the appearance and drive back home the next day.
I was preoccupied all week, and it showed in my workouts.
“Focus,” Marco would bark at me. “If I’m going to be training you, the least you can do is give me a hundred percent. That’s what I’m giving you.”
Kage would just smile or wink at me when I’d get into trouble with Marco, but he never interfered.
They had started teaching me punches and kicks, and I was trying to perfect my form. Sometimes I took Marco’s place as Kage’s punching bag, but I got the distinct feeling he was going a lot easier on me than he did Marco. Which was probably a good thing. I probably would have ended up in the hospital like Davi Matos if Kage had opened up on me one good time.
After Tuesday’s practice, three days before our scheduled appearance, we stayed in the gym after Marco had left.
“I want to learn some submissions,” I said after the door closed behind Marco. I knew Kage was worn out, and it might not be the best time for a lesson, but I didn’t want Marco to be around when I was trying to learn too serious or dangerous. The instructor had this way of looking at me like I wasn’t shit. Like he didn’t think I deserved to breathe the same air as Michael Kage.
Maybe I didn’t.
Thank goodness Kage didn’t seem to share that opinion. He doted on me, took the time to make sure I was comfortable and that I understood things. I didn’t know why he did it or what exactly he saw in me, but I was grateful.
Even as tired as he was, worn out from hours of hardcore drills that would put a lesser man in the emergency room, Kage smiled that indulgent smile and held out a hand for me. I placed my hand in his and quickly found myself spun around with my back pressed up against his front, his arm like a steel band around my throat.
“Triangle choke,” he said. “Now I drop the other arm in behind your neck, grab onto my bicep to lock my arms in place, and I’ve got you in a vice. Just try to get free.”
I struggled, succeeding only at making the arm around my neck tighten. It didn’t surprise me that I couldn’t muscle out of the death grip of a professionally trained MMA fighter, but it did surprise me to discover I was ashamed of that fact. Logic assured me that I should not be able to escape, but pride said I wasn’t much of a man if I couldn’t. How must it feel for a seasoned professional fighter to get caught in such a grip and be unable to escape, knowing that defeat was only seconds away? Was it humiliating for them, or were they hardened to failure? Did they have a more realistic attitude, or were they slaves to pride just like I was?
“Struggle, Jamie.” Kage leaned from side to side just enough to goad me into action. “Use your hands and your fingers. Try to claw your way out. I want you to feel how effective this hold is.”
I wiggled and clawed, but to no avail. “Can’t,” I choked out in a strangled voice. “No way.” He wasn’t hurting me, but he was dominating me for sure.
Finally, Kage let me go and turned me around to face him. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The concern in his eyes was real, and it made me feel safe.
“No, I’m fine.” I rubbed absently at the side of my neck, feeling the film of sweat he had transferred from his arm to my throat.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Show me some more. I want to learn.”
“Okay. How about you try that move on me?” Kage turned his back toward me and showed great patience as I executed a ham-handed triangle choke on him, moving through the steps slowly and hesitantly, like a kid learning to tie his shoe. He indulged me by spreading his legs and bending his knees, striking a horse stance so I didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach him. “Very good,” he lied smoothly. “You’re a natural. Now let’s take it down to the mat, and I’ll teach you a couple of armbar variations.”