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“This is embarrassing.”
“Look, I get it. Fight fans have had enough. They want better Veronica Nash matches, worthy of her standing as the best there’s ever been.”
“They want better Nash opponents, with all respect to her past victories.”
“But who, John? She’s laid waste to everyone.”
“There’s always someone out there. Sometimes, the most obvious answer is the correct one. Hell, just listen to crowd. They are telling you who right now. They’re chanting her name.”
Veronica was shielded by security behemoths and her trainer, gripping her belt tightly, while moving through the crowd so no one could get to her. Not physically anyway. But she heard them loud and clear as their chant thundered throughout the arena. That, perhaps, got to her worse than any punch.
“A-VA! A-VA! A-VA!”
She was escorted to her locker room before security would leave her and then it was only to wait outside her door.
Max raced over, having come down from his corporate box. “Hey, are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
“Hey come on, focus on the win! Don’t worry about anything else,” Peter, her trainer, said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze. She could tell he was trying to be comforting. It wasn’t his fault he was failing.
She excused herself to shower, stripping off and stepping into the steaming jets. She had heard the relief in Peter’s voice. She had ended it quickly, which he’d wanted. Truthfully, no one had known what would happen after the turmoil of the last few months. Veronica could’ve trained as well as she ever had but been unfocused during the match. Complacency, though, had never been her weakness. She was as strong and quick as she had ever been tonight. She had barely broken a sweat and had never been hit. Any other fighter would’ve been showered with praise. But not her. Not here.
She lowered her head, letting the water cascade down her back as the memory of the crowd, and what they chanted, echoed through her brain and was grateful she was alone in the bathroom. She wasn’t sure the sound of the shower would drown out her crying.
Ten years as champion had seen her experience and endure a lot. She’d been praised, feared, celebrated and she’d been targeted. But never in her life had she been hated and despised. Until tonight.
She thought she could brush it aside. That it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t break her heart, but it did. On a night where she should’ve been on top of the world, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She had to remember this wasn’t Beckinsale’s doing, but by God, it felt like that woman was stalking her. Her fucking name, her essence, was everywhere she turned. As she shut the water off, she was resigned to the fact she’d have to do the one thing she’d vowed never to do.
23
In the earlyhours of the morning, Ava was alone in her hospital room. Jasmine and the boys had been sent home. Ava guessed she had been unconscious for a while so she sent them a group text that she was OK. Lying still with the oxygen mask over her face, she flicked through TV channels, but stopped as she heard “Up next, Veronica Nash in her own words.” It was an American news station, and she sat up rather gingerly and waited for the interview. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to watch it, but something compelled her to remain as she was. Remote untouched.
“Tonight, we present a world exclusive. A one-on-one, sit-down interview with world champion Veronica Nash. Once praised as the greatest fighter of her generation, amassing a world record breaking run of ten years undefeated since winning the championship. In the mixed martial arts world, her name is synonymous with success and glory. The mightiest mountain no one has ever conquered, earning her millions of dollars and universal praise and respect. But all that changed a mere couple of months ago in Vegas...”
The scene cut to flashes of their fight. Edited to look even more sinister, Ava thought. But, then again, she had never seen the replay. Maybe this was accurate. After a few flashes of punches being thrown, the scene changed again to Nash sitting opposite the interviewer, sipping on water and adjusting her mic.
“First, Veronica, congratulations on the win.”
“Thank you.”
“So... how are you?”
Nash smiled slightly. “I’ve been better. The last few weeks have been really tough. But them’s the breaks sometimes.”
“You’ve built your legacy on a foundation of toughness, ruthlessness even. Does it hurt to be called... let me see—these were taken from online fight forums after your match with Ava Beckinsale—a thug, a disgrace, an embarrassment? Even though it was an exhibition match, there are some people who called for you to be charged with assault and battery. What do you say to them? How do you answer that?”
Nash’s face was tensed, appearing to think about her next words carefully. “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I disagree.”
“Straight question, flat out. There have been whispers that you fear Ava Beckinsale, and that’s why you lashed out. Do you?”
“No,” she replied evenly, “I respect all the fighters in my division, but I don’t fear anyone. She’s good. But she couldn’t get the job done. That’s it.”
“With all due respect, Veronica, that’s not it. This was international news. Media crews were camped outside the hospitalbothof you were admitted to. Opinions are split among fight fans and even experts. Some say it was a display of dominance by a once-in-a-lifetime champion who cannot be defeated. Others say it was a knee jerk reaction when you realised you had a challenger that would not stay down.
I have some statistics here you may, or may not, have read. At more than thirty-one million views, that exhibtion is the most viewed of any of your fights, no doubt because of the injury that stopped it. You were hit more times in its first ninety seconds than in four of your previous fights combined. Your latest opponent didn’t even register a strike against you. So, some people think you took the easy way and took Beckinsale out. And she’s still, by all reports, unable or unwilling to talk to anyone.”
