Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 151765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
I didn’t stop, just headed into the locker room and opened my locker. I dropped my bag and began going through it, pulling out everything I’d need to work my ass off for the next few hours. He followed me and leaned against the wall. A few other guys were in there, so my uncle raised his voice, “Can we have the room, fellas?”
“Yeah, man.”
“No problem.”
Once they were gone, he went over, hitting the door shut and locking it. Word would spread that we were having a meet, so if anyone needed in, they’d deal with it. The guys liked my uncle, really liked that he built this gym. Half the guys were hoping for a fighting career because of this opportunity. Having the right place to train was vital.
“What’s up?” I stripped off my shirt, pulling on a tank.
“I know you just did a fight, but I got a call.”
“No,” I said it quick and firm because no fucking way was I fighting so soon after I just had one. And the way he was approaching me about it, told me it was going to be soon. Otherwise, he would’ve waited and hit me up at the house or after training.
“It’s good money. Good exposure.”
“No.”
“It’s next Thursday.” He kept on as if I hadn’t said a word. “Way I see it, you pretend as if the last fight never happened and we’ve just extended training by a week. That’s all.”
I rounded on him. “I said no!”
He didn’t care. That was obvious as he leaned forward, still resting against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “It’s Brandon Nelson’s kid.”
That made me pause.
Brandon Nelson was a bigwig in the MMA world. If they were asking for his son to fight me, that was a big deal.
I straightened. “I’m going to wipe the floor with his kid.”
My uncle sighed, pushing off from the wall and coming closer to me. “I know. He knows it. The kid knows it. Neither of you are signed yet, and everyone is aware of your skill level. I think you fight his kid and he sees how it goes, how you handle yourself. If he likes what he sees, he’ll approach for a fight against him. Think about it. The PR spin is already written. You beat the kid, he wants to beat you for his kid once you’re signed. The money could be really good—the best you’ve gotten yet. This could set you up big time.”
He was right, but hell. A fucking fight in a week. We usually trained for months.
“I don’t know.”
“Look, normally I’d never recommend you do this fight. But this one, just this one, I think you should.”
My phone started buzzing, and after checking the screen and seeing it was family, I turned it off.
“Was that your mom?”
He saw the screen. Jesus. I knew why I came out here. The reasons. I knew the rumors, and the rumors were so far from the truth, and my uncle knew it all too, but I did not want to have this conversation. Still. He asked, and that was his sister.
I kicked off my shoes and socks, then finished changing. “Yeah.”
“What’s she want?”
“I don’t know. World fucking peace?”
“Hey,” he barked at me, shutting my locker and getting in my face. Once there, he got a good look at me, and he backed up. “Sorry. I—it’s your mom. She’s not the bad guy.”
A hard laugh ripped from me as I sat on the bench and grabbed the tape for my feet. “You’re right. That’s Grandpops and everyone else.”
“Not your mom. Not me. She sent you out here, and you know I’m not part of that group.”
He was speaking truth, which I appreciated, but the whole thing still pissed me off. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”
He was watching me, in a knowing way, more knowing than I would’ve liked. He took a whole step back, his tone changing, softening. “He can’t do anything to you.”
Another hard laugh from me. This one came from my gut. “That’s not the truth, and you know it.” I finished the taping and put it back on the bench beside me.
I stood. I was ready to train. Fuck. I needed to train to get this conversation out of my head.
He went and picked up the tape. “I’ll call your mom and tell her to back off you for a bit.”
I didn’t respond, but that’d be nice. He saw it on my face, and I knew he saw it.
He nodded, starting for the door. “Let me know by tonight about the fight.”
“Yeah.”
“Stretch, then hit the mats. I want you to work on leg whips first. And remember to keep your head down.”
My fucking family. But even though he and I didn’t have a ‘share our feelings’ kind of a bond, I was like the other guys. I was grateful for him too, just in a whole different way.