Page 34 of Liquids

K comes at Rig with a high kick and clips him on the shoulder. “Got you, you pussy!” he shouts. Rig charges him, but K dodges and chops him on his back.

“Two blows in thirty seconds! You are going down!” K crows. “You’re getting slow, old man.”

Brit’s watching them with raised eyebrows, shaking her head.

“What’s happening?”

“No idea.” She sucks in her cheeks. “Rig’s taking a lot of risks.” She doesn’t look happy.

Rig kicks out suddenly and catches K, who absorbs the blow but tries to grab his leg and twist, but Rig squirms out of his grasp just as fast. K instantly kicks back, catching him beneath his ribs, and even with the padding he’s wearing I can tell how painful it is by the expression that shimmers across Rig’s face. God, it’s that bad even with padding? All those blows he absorbed in that fight with the Bear with no protection at all. He’s probably still tender from that fight, too. But Rig has caught K’s arm now and has him down, and they’re grappling and rolling. The guys by the ring shout and duck down to check whether Rig’s managed to press K’s back to the floor. Fuck, I can hardly watch. Am I ever going to get used to watching Rig fight?

“Fucking bastard!” K shouts, and with a huge hip thrust manages to push out from under Rig. Then they’re on their feet and circling each other again, hands flying out to try and find a purchase on something … anything. After a few more taunts, the referee, such as he is, raises his hand.

“One minute timeout.”

“Did someone get a penalty?” I whisper to Brit.

“We’re halfway through,” she says, and sure enough, when I peer at my watch, five minutes have passed. Wow, that went in the blink of an eye. The second half is no better, and when the referee calls time, Rig leans on the ropes, head down, breath coming out in heavy gusts. K collapses onto the floor.

“We calling it a draw?” Rig grunts, and K groans and rolls onto his side.

“Asshole,” he gasps out, and Rig shakes with laughter.

Rig gestures at me as the guys drift away. “You and Brit can train now,” he wheezes, and I gape at him. But Brit heads toward a pile of equipment at the far side of the ring, gesturing at me to follow.

“Let’s get geared up,” she says. “We’re not fighting for real; I’ll just teach you some of the basic defensive moves.”

My legs shake as I follow her to the pads and gloves.

“Brit’s nice,” I say as we head to the car and Rig limps along beside me. How does his body take all this abuse?

“Oh, Brit’s not nice, babe. She’s one of the most vicious women I’ve seen fight, really rides the edge of what’s legitimate to do to her opponent, won’t hesitate to injure someone. But she’s so entertaining to watch. Brings so much negative energy to the ring. Intimidates the fuck out of other women. Seen her fight men the same way.”

“I can’t believe she fights guys.”

He laughs. “She says she likes to practice on people she thinks she can’t beat. She’s a nut.”

“I’d like to be strong like her.”

“Well, a bit of weightlifting will go a long way.”

“No, I mean courage-wise.”

He frowns at me. “You’re a brave person, Carl.”

I snort. “I’m a pushover.”

“No, you ain’t. Not by any stretch of the imagination. You got through one of the worst things that can happen to a person, and you’re still standing. You’re helping people. Old people. People no one cares about.” He waves his arm out and winces as I gaze at him. He grabs me by the neck. “Gonna ban you from saying shit about yourself.”

And it makes me laugh.

When we reach his truck, he grunts, “Need to stop fighting in front of you.”

“What? Why?”

“Too distracting. Keep trying to do something impressive. That’s never a smart idea. Made too many mistakes today and got punished for it.”

I stare at him. He was trying to impress me?