Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Molly’s body goes rigid.
Fuck me. I’ve been so focused on this reunion, I didn’t mention the Vegas fight to her yet. It’s not even a sure thing.
“I’m aware of the challenge,” I say carefully.
“He said it’s because out of all these Supreme Fighters, you were the best. ‘An absolute savage in the cage,’ he said. You’re the only fighter he feels right now is worthy of fighting him.”
Weird way to insult everyone else. “Uh, I hadn’t heard all of that. And while I’m looking forward to punching a hole through Magic’s skull, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
The audience roars with laughter. Even Molly chuckles.
I point at Venom two seats away from me. “Amazing fighter. Venom would easily put Magic in a coma. Woolly could probably knock Magic out in round one. Bear Trap would submit him in ninety seconds or less. Hammer Fists would knock that guy into next year.” My gaze skips around. Can I say anything decent about the other guys? I don’t respect any of them much. “Magic would probably break his knuckles punching Bull.”
“Fuck yeah, he would!” Bull jumps up and thrusts his fists into a Y. “Fuck that dude. Stonewall can take him easily.”
At least he took what I said as a compliment.
Molly lets out a quick giggle and covers her mouth with her hand. Relief spirals through me. Maybe she won’t be mad I didn’t tell her about the fight sooner.
Everyone else starts talking at once, bragging on their skills and how they’re just as worthy of fighting Magic.
Nope. That fight’s taken.
Now that the news about the challenge is public, I want this fight more than I thought. Another chance to prove myself.
I hope Molly’s as easy to convince.
When all the chatter dies down, Matt walks closer to us. “You’re going to need a coach, a team, a trainer to get yourself to Magic’s level,” Matt says in a low, dramatic tone.
“I have a good team of people I trust at home.” To train with and fuck around in the cage, sure. To prepare me for a Vegas fight, maybe not but I’ll figure that out later.
“Stonewall, would it surprise you to know there’s a world class trainer who would love the opportunity to work with you?”
“Uh, I guess not.” My words come out as more of a question.
“Welcome back to our coach!” Matt shouts. “Daniel Underhill!”
“No shit,” I mutter.
Underhill walks out on stage and waves to the audience, then to me. “What’s up, bro?”
“How you been?” I stand and shake his hand.
Matt doesn’t let us talk long. He brings Underhill to a chair in the center of the stage.
“So, you’re willing to train Stonewall to go up against Mike ‘Magic’ Everson. You didn’t get enough of him at the house?”
Underhill laughs, a deep hearty sound. Wasn’t sure the guy even knew how to laugh. “Hell, yeah. He’s an exceptional student and fighter.”
“You certainly seemed to have strong opinions about the outcome of Naptime vs. Stonewall,” Matt says.
Footage is shown of Underhill attacking the ref after my fight with Naptime. Damn, their brawl was worse than I thought.
“Well, I did, Matthew,” Underhill says in his best I’ll fuck you up tone. “Frankly, Stonewall was robbed. He should’ve won that fight.”
“Fuck you!” Naptime shouts. “You’re a loser and your boy’s a loser.” He points at me and I wave back with my middle finger.
Molly sits up, like she’s ready to pounce on Naptime if he comes any closer. I rest my arm against her leg, subtly pushing her back into her seat.
Even though she must have a thousand questions and she’s probably not too happy with me right now, my girl’s first instinct is to jump to my defense.
I hope she finally realizes that none of this noise matters. Not the show. Not the car or what she did to it. Nothing.
We have always been unbreakable.
CHAPTER FORTY
Griff
Am I finally free of Supreme Underground Fighter? It’s consumed my life—almost ruined my life—for months.
Hours later, we’re finally free to leave the studio.
It’s like a huge weight lifting off my shoulders.
Diane—now sporting blue hair instead of the pink she had when she conned me into this ring of ridiculousness—stands next to our car in the chilly evening air.
She holds out her hands in an appeasement gesture as we approach. “I know things weren’t perfect, but you have to admit I was right.”
I wrap my arm around Molly’s shoulders. “About what? Blowing up my life?”
Diane still seems confused by our lack of enthusiasm. She must have lived too long in her reality TV bubble. Her gaze slides to Molly. “You look like you’re doing okay.”
“Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed having strangers on the Internet call me dumb, slutty, or a combination of the two. It was the highlight of my summer. Then coming here and being physically attacked by an unhinged lunatic was fantastic,” Molly says. “Thanks for making me sign that release form. I really appreciate it,” she adds with generous dose of sarcasm.