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Screeching tires.
Doors slamming.
“Hands behind your head!” someone shouts. “Turn around and get on your knees!”
A whimper escapes me, forcing Xi to slam a hand against my mouth. He’s holding me so tightly I feel his heartbeat raging against my back.
“Gentlemen,” Caden’s calm, mocking voice rises.
“Fuck!” one of the cops shouts. His radio crackles. “419. Calling for backup. I repeat 419. We’ve got a dead body in Greenfield Alley. A known gang member is present at the scene.”
My eyes squeeze shut, tears falling onto Xi’s hand.
My heart shatters into a million pieces knowing this is it. This was the last time I ever felt Caden against me. The last time his lips touched mine. The last time I heard those three magic words from him.
We fought all we could against our tragic fates.
And yet, it wasn’t enough.
EPILOGUE
BILLIE
Two Punks In Love - büllow
A year and a half later…
The pre-fight anxiety never gets easier, and the hits in the ring never get less painful.
Every new win is a step closer to making everyone around me proud, to earning more money, and to helping the ones I love.
Fame, or whatever people like to call it, doesn’t really make me feel anything. People recognize me when I go to a gym or if they’re fans of MMA and bump into me on the streets.
Interviewers are not from the same place as me anymore, and they often want to know about my past. What it was like where I grew up. They want to know what the scar of a crown on the side of my neck means and if I was ever affiliated with a gang.
I ignore them. People don’t care about us when we’re in our shitty town. Why would they care now, apart from gossip?
I also often get some screen time when I go watch a fight. The camera pans to me in the crowd to put me on the big screen. But at the end of the day, I’m not really recognizable yet to the average Joe.
It might all change after tonight.
After over twelve months of fighting my way from more minor to bigger leagues, Taylor finally got me a fight for the Contender Series. I just need to win by TKO, KO, or submission, and I’m in. One win, and I will get a UFC contract.
I’m so fucking close as I punch my opponent in the head, and she falls to the floor.
I’m on her instantly, but so is the ref. He forces me to back off when her arms don’t come to defend herself, and waves his hands in the air, announcing the TKO.
Cheers explode around me.
The lights are much brighter in UFC venues. The crowd is much louder, and my name is so distinct from their mouths. Despite everything, I always look for his face in the crowd. Sometimes I even imagine it. Tonight again, I was sure I saw him just before I knocked out my opponent. Just like I did that night on the North Shore.
But I can’t see him now. He’s not really there, and I know it.
No, Caden King is serving a life-long sentence in prison for first-degree. Nowhere near Las Vegas, where I am fighting tonight, and nowhere near my apartment in New York City.
He won’t be here tonight like he wasn’t in the many other fights I’ve won.
Dickie is still there, in my corner, holding my waist when they pull my hand up. The feeling never gets old, even though everything feels a little duller since Caden was put away.
