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One year later
I’m sitting on my opponent, Martin’s chest as he foolishly punches me in the ribs leaving the left side of his face exposed. The misstep allows my elbow to slam against his cheekbone, widening the cut I gave him earlier. I take advantage of the daze my elbow caused him and grab his wrist. I fall to Martin’s side, wrap my legs around his bicep and lock my ankles at his pec and begin pulling and twisting until he comes out of his daze and starts punching my thighswith his free hand, but it’s futile.
He tries to twist out of my hold but with my lower legs across his chest, he’s not going anywhere.
He bellows as his elbow pops out of place and bends backwards just as I see the ref running over to stop me. Before he gets there though, I twist my body and lift my pelvis up causing his forearm to bend back much further than would have been allowed had this been a legal fight. The ref pulls me up off the warehouse floor and declares me the winner while Martin screams at his oddly angled elbow.
Martin walked into the ring with a cocky smirk on his ugly mug but someone failed to warn him; getting into the ring with me is equivalent to free swimming with hungry sharks.
Oh well, I’m the winner tonight and the winnings are enough to get me where I need to go.
It’s been one year since I moved into Lopez’s house and three months since she moved to the assisted living facility for the elderly. She had another stroke so her doctor thought it’d be best for her to have professional care around the clock. Lopez seems to be doing great which makes me less worried about her and she seems happy with the choices I’ve made so far as well. I’ve put the house up for sale with a reliable realtor who came highly recommended and I’ve made arrangements to move to New York. I wanted to get moving as soon as possible but I needed to earn some more cash so I’ve picked up a lot more fights lately.
Tonight’s fight will be my last here in Cali and it seems I’ve caught the eye of Diego Blanca, boss of the Blanca cartel in La Paz, Mexico. It’s a piece of his crew that runs the ring here and in a few other states. I heard him trying to get my attention by yelling out my name but like always I ignore the congratulatory shouts and dodge the pats on the back.
I don’t fight for the spotlight, at least not in this small time ring. I fight for the money and the outlet. For the rush of feeling my opponent break under my hands. I do it to let my demons out for a while before they build up to a point that I kill someone.
Again.
My first year in juvie I killed one of the older kids. I was just thirteen years old when he caught me unaware in the dinning hall and sucker punched me from the side causing me to blackout. I don’t remember what happened but when I came to, I felt every single bruise he and his crew of punks left on me. They kicked my ass that day but he didn’t realize that he just woke up the sleeping beasts within me and that night I caught him in the shower and none of his friends could yell fast enough to warn him of my advance. I jumped onto his back and pulled his head back, exposing his neck to the makeshift knife I made. I stabbed him repeatedly until the shivvy broke off in his neck.
As I let him drop to the floor, the water still flowing from the shower head allowed me to see the inner workings of his throat. While I watched his life’s essence stream into the drain and the light seep from his eyes, I smiled at the relief and satisfaction of letting my darkness take over.
The build up of anger and rage are heavy on the mind and soul.
Shaking those thoughts off, I continue to make my way to the back of the warehouse where the changing room is. As soon as I’m behind the closed door, I begin cleaning the blood and sweat off, finally allowing myself to feel the pain within my body. There’s no showers here but I use my water bottle and towel to wash up as best as I can so I can disinfect the deep cut on my right eyebrow. Bare knuckle fights are brutal on the body, just ask the guy I beat.
As I get the second butterfly suture on, Diego Blanca walks in.
“Twitch DeLuca! That was some great skills you showed out there. I’ve heard a lot about you but I thought it was an exaggeration; I’m glad to see how wrong I was.”
I don’t know what to reply so I just tip my head instead of saying anything. If my silence bothers him, he doesn’t show it.
“Listen kid, you beat my best fighter who is undefeated in La Paz. I think it’s time I replace him and who better to take his spot than the man who took him out,hm?” His deep voice is heavily accented but not hard to understand. He looks like he could be conducting a meeting in a CEO office but he also looks like he could easily smile while dropping you into a barrel of acid.
I understood the man’s reasoning for a new fighter but cartel or not I need to stick to my plan and get to New York.
“Sorry boss but this was my last fight. I have a family I need to get to in New York and to get there I need this cash to pay the guy who restored my car.”
Before tonight’s fight, I made a side bet with a friend named Albert. He’s the best mechanic in San Diego and we made a deal, if I won before the fifth round he’d fix up the car Lopez gave to me for my birthday. It was a car that belonged to her dead husband and the restoration of the 1969 Chevelle SS would have cost me ten grand but since I won the fight in the second round, I only have to pay five grand. The beautiful black car is exactly my style, completely blacked out—seats, body and rims—and it’ll be my treasure until the day I die.
Shit, I’ll probably be buried in it.
“How about this, Twitch, I’m heading to New York myself so why don’t you fight for me and I’ll make sure you have a spot in the Barbarity Ring when we get to the city? I get fifty percent of your winnings and you fight for me for a year, plus I’ll pay for your car.”
My ears perk up at the mention of the famous underground ring that is still fairly new but is an unstoppable force. All the top fighters talk about getting a chance to enter that ring. They say it’s where you go if you want to fight in the UFC. Scouts, coaches, and managers all discreetly make their way there to scope out young and fresh fighters.
It was started a year ago by a woman who also fights. Silver is what they call her. Rumor has it, she’s been offered a spot on the women’s UFC division but she declined because there are too many rules. I had planned to find this ring and hopefully get my name known when I got to NY so Blanca handing me this chance is a once in a lifetime opportunity, but I keep my face blank.
“I appreciate the offer boss but I can’t keep only fifty percent of the winnings. If you want me to fight for you for a year, I’ll do it but I keep eighty percent and nothing less.” I shrug my shoulder as I watch a mixture of mirth and anger flash in his eyes. I’ve heard about the ruthless mafia boss so I know I have to watch my tone with him but I’m no one’s bitch and even though this man strikes me as a stand-up guy, I won’t let anyone push me around for their own gain.
Just then one of Blanca’s soldiers comes into the makeshift locker room. “It’s your daughter, Jefe,”hesays as he hands over a cell phone.
The man looks over to me and gives me a nod before returning to guard the door.
“Sí, hija, he terminado las reuniones aquí, así que mañana estaré allí.”Yes, daughter, I have finished the meetings here, so tomorrow I will be there. He pauses listening to his daughter’s response. “Sí, sé que es la pelea más grande del año.”Yes, I know it is the biggest fight of the year.
Obviously, he plans to arrive in New York tomorrow, just in time for the annual event. I wanted to be there for it but I’ll be driving and not flying a jet so there’s not a chance in hell I’ll make it this year. Unless...
