Hooked (The Submission Fighter Book 1) (2 page)

On the other hand, Caroline used an entirely different tactic to gain the attention of her customers. Her method was to greet each table or bar stool customer with a large, flashy smile and a couple bats of her eyes. She leaned across the tables, pointing out specials or handing the men extra napkins or straws. Her body was clearly her selling point, and she was banking on it.

One man in particular had his eye on Caroline. Jace, who frequently occupied the first stool in the corner, didn’t really want to eat or drink. However, his thirsty eyes were drinking in all of Caroline, as she served him his second beer of the night. The two chatted uninterrupted for a long time. Several times, Caroline threw her long hair back, laughing at his apparently hilarious jokes. She was even so bold as to reach across to pat his hand or hold on to his shoulder.

“Alice! Alice!” Alice smiled brightly, as she placed a bill on the counter for her last table of the night. She turned to face Caroline who was now sitting on the stool next to Jace, her legs intertwined with his. “Jace has awesome news! He has extra tickets for the MMA fight tonight. You have to go with us. It’s the second row!” Her excitement practically leapt out of her voice.

Alice, on the other hand, couldn’t bring herself to care, as she shook her head “no.”

Caroline stood up and walked towards Alice. “C’mon, sweetie,” she said encouragingly. “It’s part of a deal. You and I go on a date with Jace and Pete, and we—”

“Oh, Caroline,” Alice said, a note of offense in her voice. “A date? Seriously?”

“Aw, Allie,” Caroline said soothingly. “Just give it a chance. Jace is a promoter; he’s big in the MMA world. Like,
really
big. Listen. I know you’d rather serve Big Joe hot dogs for the rest of your life than go out like this, but they want
both
of us.” She took Alice by the shoulders and looked her straight in the face. “Please, Alice,” she begged. “I need this.”

Alice turned to look over at Pete who was still drinking beer and chatting up customers. He smiled at her knowingly, raising his glass subtly towards her. “Fine,” she stressed, throwing her hands up in the air. “But if I say I want to leave, you leave with me. Deal?” Caroline nodded emphatically, but she couldn’t repress the grin on her face. “I mean it, Caroline! No exceptions!”

“Cross my heart!” Caroline responded, making a motion over her chest.

Alice untied her apron strings and walked out into the night toward her apartment. Caroline followed behind her, giggling and skipping the whole way back.

Alice stared at her bedroom closet quite perplexed.
What do people wear to an MMA fight?
As she tore through her closet, she wondered about what had possessed Caroline to do this in the first place. She’d never mentioned attending a match to Alice, let alone knowing who the fighters were. But given the crowd Alice imagined attending a fighting event like this, she could see why Caroline was so eager; they were just her type.

“Allie!” she heard the call come from across the apartment. “Please tell me you’re dressed,” she said in a hurried, mildly panicked voice. “The guys are going to be here in five minutes!” After a beat, Caroline fluttered into Alice’s room wearing black stilettos and a slinky, backless dress. Her makeup had been reapplied to perfection.

Alice stood in the doorway, half-nude and looking frazzled. “Oh!” Caroline said, surprised. “Obviously not.”

“What am I supposed to wear to something like this?” Alice asked her nervously. “Everything I have pretty much only works with an apron.”

Without a word, Caroline approached the closet and started tossing clothing off the hangers and onto the floor. When she found something she mildly approved, she stood for a second, examining the article of clothing and then left it sitting on its original hanger. When she was done with her massive clothing search, she handed Alice a green silk halter top and a work skirt. Alice slipped the top over her hair and threw on the clean skirt.

“Roll it up,” Caroline instructed, as she took hold of Alice’s hips and folded the skirt at the waistband, significantly shortening its length. Looking at her living paper doll, she handed Alice a pair of gold flats. “Perfect. Now, we’ve got to do
somethin’
about that makeup.” She went off to the bathroom and returned with arm full of products. “Okay, hon’,” she said, dropping the makeup on Alice’s bed, “we’re gonna have to do this quick.”

Concealer, foundation, bronzer, blush, eye shadow, liner, mascara, and lipstick. She piled it all on Alice’s freshly cleaned face as if she was a painter herself. When she finished, she stood back, studying her masterpiece. “Well,” she sighed, “it ain’t my best work, but it’ll have to do.”

A buzz sounded, filling up the silence space of their apartment with noise. Caroline grabbed Alice’s hand, as they ran down the stairs to meet Jace and Pete at the doorway. Without a beat, she fell into Jace’s arms, pretending to trip. Both laughed, as they remained in a tight embrace.

Suddenly, Alice felt silly. Pete stood before her in his new outfit, a black button down and a pair of jeans. His hands were tucked in his pockets, as he avoided eye contact with Alice. He reminded her of her date to the homecoming dance ten years ago. Wordless, they followed the locked couple to the black beater parked across the street.

“You…uh…you look really nice, Alice.” His voice was raised awkwardly, perhaps even surprised at his own bravery.

“Thanks!” she squeaked. “You do, too. It’s nice to see you out of a work shirt.” She floated a smile his way.

“It’s nice to see you out of a shirt,” he said, grinning. Then, realizing his mistake, he quickly amended, “Wait. I mean…uh…you know…like, a work shirt.” Alice could practically watch the sweat drip off of him, as he fumbled his way through an explanation and an apology.

“Smooth, man!” Jace raised his hand to give him a high-five, keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. Caroline just giggled foolishly.

The rest of the ride was dominated by Jace going on and on about the fights they were about to watch. “Wait till you see this guy, Anders. He’s a beast. He is going to tear down Micah. It’s not even going to be a competition. I mean, Micah is scrappy, but he’s no Anders. This is going to be awesome.”

“I know this is going to sound really silly, but what is MMA? I mean, is it like boxing or wrestling?” asked Caroline. Alice, for once, was grateful for Caroline’s ability to turn on the feminine charm. Her question was certainly at the forefront of Alice’s mind, considering she had never been to a wrestling match, let alone something like this spectacle.

“Well, MMA is mixed martial arts. Basically, it’s three rounds of two guys going at it in a cage. They can punch and kick, which makes it
so
much more fun than boxing.”

“Wait, they can kick? Isn’t that dangerous?” Alice piped up from the back, as flashbacks of her own beating jumped in front of her thoughts, derailing her.

“Yeah. They can kick. It gets really brutal. I mean, there are some things you can't do, like punch a guy in the throat, but it’s pretty much wrestling meets boxing meets kickboxing.” Jace continued on, explaining the rules to Caroline, as she stared with wide eyes at Jace and his knowledge of the sport. 

Alice, on the other hand, cringed. The idea of someone watching another person get beat up for entertainment was almost sickening to her. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to stomach the night ahead. As they pulled up to the sports arena, Alice attempted to steady herself.

The booming sounds coming from in Tiger Sports Arena wasn’t helping much. Inside, the noise wasn’t much better. The crowd was already rowdy, cursing and screaming at one another. Gamblers hawked their receipts in darker corners of the twenty-chair rows. Jace and Caroline went off to mingle with some of Jace’s friends, leaving Pete and Alice alone in search of their seats.

The two took their place in the second row of green folding chairs, directly in front of the action. In the center of the room, stood a large, black metal cage with eight sides elevated by platforms. From her vantage point, she could see drips of blood staining the blue mat floors of the ring. And already, her stomach began to churn.

“Those are the judges at that table.” Pete noticed Alice checking out the surroundings and piped in a quick word to her. “They are the ones who decide a match. It’s like boxing where they give the fighters a score and then use the score to determine a winner.”

“So, it’s not like they go until they kill each other?”

Pete laughed in her face, obviously unsure if she was serious or not. When Alice’s expression hardened, he quit. “No, they don’t kill each other. There’s a ref in there to make sure things are safe, and the rounds only last about three minutes. But Jace is right. It gets bloody and pretty vicious. Winner walks away with a huge chunk of money, so there’s a ton of the line for the guys.”

“Jesh.” It was all Alice could think to say. She scanned the back walls for a quick exit route, just in case she truly couldn’t handle what was about to go down.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A crackling voice came over the speakers as the music died down. “Welcome to Tiger Sports Arena! Tonight we bring you three of the best amateur match-ups this side of Steubenville.” The announcer continued as he introduced the judges, the ring assistants, and the ref. It was all a noisy, hectic blur for Alice.

“Hey, Pete. I’m going to be right back. I’m going to go grab a soda from concessions. Okay?” Pete nodded his head at her mindlessly, too focused on the announcer and the female fighters being introduced to care about where she went.

The need to escape overwhelmed Alice, but her desire to stick around for Caroline’s sake held her at the stadium. But there was no way,
no way
that she was going to be able to stomach the fights ahead. Already, just at the sight of the blood smears and the sound of crowds, her palms had begun to sweat, her heart raced, and her mind rushed dramatically to memories of her own fight several months earlier.

She walked quickly, searching for the ladies room, hoping for refuge there or at least an opportunity to put some water on her face. As she turned a darkened corner, she felt herself smack squarely into a much, much larger body. Like a spring, she fell backwards, hitting herself against the wall. She let out a small yelp of pain, as she could feel her chest tightening where her broken rib had just healed.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there, lady.” A large, tan hand covered in black tribal tattoos emerged in front of her face. She refused it, using her hands to crawl back up the wall to a standing position. She dusted herself off, feeling quite silly at the whole thing. “Are you alright? I body slammed you pretty hard.” The voice was low, but soft—tender with an edge of darkness.

Alice looked at the man towering at least a foot over her. He was shirtless, yet like his hands, his body was covered in carefully selected tattoo art, each with its own specific piece to play. Mingled with the black ink were scars, hundreds of them both big and small. Some ran the length of his tight, muscular torso while the rest just pinched into tiny crevices. His face was more of the same with an angular, razor sharp jaw. Wooden-colored eyes with a touch of honey-hazel stood out on his tan face. His fully shaved head gave him an ethereal look.

Finding her voice, Alice quietly said, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She turned to leave, hoping to stave off embarrassment for as long as possible.

“Wait! I need to check you out. You’re bleeding.” The man grabbed her arm with a soft force, pulling her closer to him. He spun her around to her right, as he studied the side of her body.

“I’m not bleeding…” She, too, looked down at her emerald green halter searching for any sign of injury. Both of them spotted it at the same time, a small bit of blood stained the seam.

“Come on. I’ll take you back to the medics.” He continued to hold on to her arm. Yet, while Alice felt she should be wary of this shirtless man, she couldn’t find a reason to argue with him. Plus, she was certain that she wouldn’t win if she tried to resist.

Without another word, he circled the hallways with her in tow. Occasionally, he would take his thumb and forefingers to her arm, rubbing the skin near her underarm gently as if to reassure her that he was not as scary as she thought he may be. At the same time, he would smile back down at her, crooked lips parted just a hair.

The medic’s office was located near the locker rooms. Small and damp with a flickering overhead light, it felt like it was straight out of a horror movie. It was certainly the last place she had imagined finding herself that night.

“I didn’t expect to see you in here so soon, Micah.” A short, unimpressive woman smiled at the sight of Alice’s companion.

“Not here for me. I slammed into this lady in the hallway, and she’s bleeding. Can you take a look?” He led Alice further in the room, guiding her to a metal folding chair. She demurely lifted her shirt, exposing the pale skin underneath and the curve of her hip.

“Just a scratch. Nothing big. Must have scraped it on the brick.” The medic turned to grab an extra-large Band-Aid.

“She’s going to be okay?”

The medic laughed at him, reassuring her that he was making a mountain out of a molehill.

“Good, good. I’ve got to run then. Dean is going to kill me if I’m running late. I’ll see you out there…” He searched for her name in his memory but came up blank.

“It’s Alice, Alice Cross.” She winced, as the medic sprayed rubbing alcohol on the wound. “Thanks for the adventure. It’s been swell.” She wasn’t exactly in the mood to play nice. Despite that, he still raised his lips, admiring her spunk and taking a glance at the wound once more. He nodded, tipped his head, and walked backwards towards the locker rooms. Out of sight and out of mind.

When the medic had finished, she returned to the stadium and back to Pete. None of her party had apparently noticed her absence. Instead, they were wildly yelling at the match in front of them. Two large men of about 200 pounds pounced on one another. The man in tight blue shorts fell forward, placing the other man in a sort of choke hold as he pounded his side with his other fist.

As Alice sat, a piercing buzzer rang as a cheer rose from the crowd. The ref separated the fighting men and then conferred with the judges table. When he was satisfied, he drug both fighters to the center of the octagonal ring and raised the arm of the man in the blue shorts victoriously. Yells and shouts in favor and against escalated the noise and chaos, as photographers and officials stood for photos with the winners.

Caroline, finally taking her eyes and hands off of Jace, gave Alice a minute of her attention. Of course, she noticed her shirt’s blood stain to Alice’s dismay.

“Girl! What in the hell happened to you in that bathroom?” The boys turned their attention to her, as well.