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“Yep. We have to be at the jiu-jitsu studio soon. There are supposed to be some trainers there who might want to train me to be a fighter,” I explained to Patrick as I stepped into my sneakers. I tried not to sound like I was bragging, but I was so fucking excited I could hardly stand it.
“Wow, good luck, man,” Patrick said.
“Do you need a ride?” Dad offered.
“Or better yet, do you want to come watch?” I asked as I thought about the black and blue marks on his chest. If he came with us, I thought it would keep him away from his stepbrother for a while longer. “Then we can take you home after,” I offered.
“That sounds great, thank you.”
On our way to the studio, Dad asked Patrick about where he lived, what his favorite subject in school was, and other generic questions. Patrick answered everything, and the three of us talked about USC and the football team the rest of the way to the studio.
“I need to go change,” I said to Patrick as we entered the studio.
“Okay, I’m going to sit on the side and watch. Good luck.”
“Thanks!”
I hurried to the bathroom and took my gi off and folded it before putting it in my bag. Quickly, I pulled on my shorts and stepped into my sneakers to walk out of the bathroom in. I put my bag beside Patrick and toed my shoes off.
“Good luck,” Patrick whispered. “There’s a lot of dudes over there talking to your dad. Apparently, you’re hot shit,” he said under his breath. Before I turned to look in the direction of my dad, Patrick grinned at me. “Dude, go, Hollis.”
Were they all here for me?
Last night when Dad told me my instructor said there were a few trainers interested in working with me, I figured two, maybe three at the most. Standing by my instructor and Dad were nine men.
As I walked toward them, I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders. The man who wore a suit and tie spoke to my dad while two other men in khakis and button-down shirts stood by, listening. My jiu-jitsu instructor stood closest to the other men. And all those guys were wearing jeans and black polos.
I came to a stop on the edge of the mats and looked at my instructor. All eyes were on me as I stood before them. My eyes moved from guy to guy, trying to figure out what all of this was for. I kept turning my attention to the man in the suit who spoke to my dad. He looked so familiar, but I wasn’t sure why. I heard a few rumblings from the group of guys in the polos that made me look in their direction.
“Are you kidding me?” one asked.
“He’s sixteen?” another questioned.
“Oh yeah, we can work with this,” another man said as he rubbed his hands together.
“He’s solid. He’s perfect,” one commented.
“What is he, six one? Six two?”
“Filling out, this kid is easily a light heavyweight.”
I could be a light heavyweight?
“Look at his solid form.”
My jiu-jitsu coach stepped forward and walked to me.
“Hollis, please come over. I’d like to introduce you to everyone,” he said. At that time, the man in the suit walked forward. “Hollis, this is Melvin Hasselbeck of TCF. I trust you’re familiar with Top Cage Fighters?”
No fucking way!
“Hollis Hawkins, it’s great to meet you. Please call me Vin,” Melvin Hasselbeck said as he shook my hand.
“Hi,” I said and then quickly shook my head to snap myself out of the shock of standing in front of the owner of the TCF. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan of TCF.”
“Yeah, your dad was telling us that you’re having a watch party tonight for it,” he said.
“Yes. My brothers and I watch all of them. I fell in love with TCF when I first saw a hint of it at WrestleMania.”
