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It was a good thing she didn’t know I was lying through my teeth. I wasn’t at all upset when Leonna hung up without so much as a goodbye. At least now I could continue with my search.
Oddly enough, I heard him before I saw him. As I approached the turn in the hall, the sound of a bitter and downright vicious argument grew louder and louder.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Red snapped. “This could really screw him over.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Bob hissed.
“You pushed him too hard!”
“I’m his damn coach. I know what’s best for him.”
“Coach?” Red huffed, his voice low and dark. “Some coach you are, fucking off to God knows where when we needed you most. It’s like you don’t even give a shit.”
Bob snorted. “You got that right, asshole. Iquit.” He stormed off, cursing under his breath. “Ungrateful bastards. I don’t have to take this shit. If you get on your knees and grovel a bit, I might consider coming back.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
I rounded the corner, stepping forward slowly. “Red?”
He turned, whatever anger he’d been carrying in his face and shoulders seemingly melting away the instant he saw me. “Julia.”
“What was all that about? Did Bob just quit? How could he do such a thing?”
“I know we’re fucked, but there’s no way I’m apologizing to that dickhead.”
“Good. You shouldn’t waste your time and energy on him.”
Red ran a hand over his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I have no idea what we’re going to do.”
“This might be a dumb question, but can’t you and Cash go without a coach? I feel like you of all people would be able to handle yourselves.”
“Unfortunately, not. A coach is a necessary part of the sport. They’re not physically in the ring with us during our matches, but they can sometimes see things we can’t.”
“How so?”
“We enter a different world when we step into a fight. We’ve got blinders on. Sometimes that’s a good thing. It keeps us focused. But it can be a disadvantage, too. In the heat of the moment, mistakes can be made. We miss opportunities or we can’t recognize patterns. Having a coach on the sidelines calling advice out to us as things happen is a godsend. A good coach keeps us grounded, keeps us present. It’s a team effort even if only two fighters are in the octagon.”
I sniffed. “Clearly our friend Bob didn’t get that memo.”
“I need to call Patrick. Maybe he can pull some strings.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“He’s a capable man, but he’s not a miracle worker. I doubt he’ll be able to find someone on such short notice.”
I tilted my head to the side, deep in thought. “I have another question for you.”
“I can see why you chose to become a journalist.” He smiled. “Go on.”
“Do you need to have certain qualifications to become a coach?”
Red frowned. “Technically? No. UFC is an unregulated industry.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that coaches don’t need to be certified to train fighters. All you need is someone with a thorough understanding of the sport.”
“And ideally a personality that doesn’t make me want to lob their head off,” Red grunted.
I grinned at him, a light bulb going off. “I know exactly who to ask. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t suggest it already. The answer’s been staring us right in the face.”
“What are you plotting?”
I took his hand and pulled him after me. “We’re going to ask Dylan to be your new coach.”
