PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance (10 page)

SAWYER

Chapter 12

PENSACOLA

THREE
1/2 YEARS AGO

P
ensacola was a completely different place without
wealth. Sure, my father and I had come down here a couple of times to enjoy the
Beach House, and that happened more often when my family grew. But we had
always gotten by with the help of private drivers, exquisite dinners, and
enjoying just about anything we could have wanted.

My first night back in town, however,
was about as far as I could get from the old memories. I had the cage in my
blood, and I needed to find my way in a new city. They say if you go out
looking for a fight, you’re gonna find one… I went looking for Darren.

He was a fighter I’d met back in New
Orleans, one of the few people in this world I considered a friend. We hit it
off right away.

Maybe better to say we ended up
beating the hell out of each other in the cage right up until I blacked out. When
it was all said and done he bought me a shitty beer and shook my hand. Told me
I was one tough son of a bitch. I spent most of the night thinking through
every move he’d made, playing them over in my head again and again. Next time
we fought, I was ready. I had every counter planned out like a game of chess.
The joke was on me when he changed things up and played the ground and pound.
Yeah, they say I won that fight, but I sure as hell don’t remember it.

Darren headed to Florida awhile back
and left me a number if I ever ended up out his way. Turned out, I didn’t
really need it. A few dive bars into the night and I had a pretty good idea of
where the action was, and sure enough, I found Darren right at the center of
it. Few days later, we were already making plans. Darren had a friend who
wanted to start up some little cage fighting operation, and as it turned out,
his idea of ‘plans’ meant he’d already bought the building.

“So much for
consulting,” I chuckled to Darren, who looked none too pleased.

Luke picked us up in a piece of crap
Jeep Wrangler, driving us along the city towards his newly-bought gym. This was
to double as home for the foreseeable future. The instant that Luke found out
that I was a fighter, he insisted on offering me makeshift accommodations in
the back. Given that I hadn’t quite figured that angle out yet, I cautiously
agreed.

While Darren and his friend Luke
caught up on a pair of fold-out chairs in a half-filled fitness center, I sat
cross-legged and scarfed down a microwaved TV dinner – just another day
in paradise.
Tonight’s main course: a pile of chicken fingers that could fit in half
my palm, a dollop of processed mashed potatoes, a scoop of corn, and whatever
passed for a shrunken chocolate brownie.

“So, this is
what you really want to spend your inheritance on, man?” Darren asked, glancing
around the small gym. “I mean, yeah, you got a good deal on the place…but this
is gonna need a
lot
of work, and
that’s just in the remodeling…”

“Yeah, man!”
Luke looked wild. With the long dreads, the weak puff of a moustache, the
goatee, and the thin, lanky build, he looked like he had never stepped foot
within a quarter mile of a gym. But what you had to look for were the eyes
– he had those crazy, passionate eyes that told you that everything he
said came straight from the heart.

“I don’t care
for any of that fighting bullshit myself,” he continued, “but hot damn do I
love
watching
it. I’ve already paid
for this place…all I need is to do a few quick fixes, hire some guys, and
really get the word out, man! This place is gonna be
great!
”

Darren and I
shared a look.

“What do you
think, Sawyer?”

I chewed
another tasteless bite of dinner. “I don’t know…it’s a fixer-upper for sure…but
who knows? If passion alone made the world turn, I’d probably put this guy in
charge of it.”

“Hell yeah,
buddy!” Luke jumped up excitedly. “Look, I know some contractors. I’ve already
talked to them and worked out a good deal. Couple of them wanna be our first
customers. Give me a week or two to get this shithole up to the Luke standard,
and we’ll be in business. I’ve even got some buddies lined up to be personal
trainers!”

Darren opened
his mouth to say something, but stopped himself.

“You know,” I
spoke after swallowing a dry chunk of brownie, “Darren said something about
cage fighting when he told me about all of this. This looks more like a Planet
Fitness than a cage fighting ring…”

“Yeah, it’s
gonna be a bit of both,” he answered. “You see, I’m gonna have a ring built
there
,” he pointed into the back of the
room. Then I’ll have all this other stuff moved over
there
,” he pointed against the far wall. “And for right
here
,” he indicated where we were all
sitting, “I’m just gonna have some mats and make it a sparring spot. What do ya
guys think?”

Darren exhaled
with wide eyes, glancing in my direction again. “I mean, I can help you set
this place up as a proper gym, if that’s what you want. I was a personal
trainer, and I can verify whoever you’re hiring – make sure that they
aren’t pulling your leg, and that they won’t scare off your customers. If you
want results, I’ll
get
you results.
But the cage fighting thing… I’ve been out of the cage for awhile now…”

Luke followed his gaze towards me, looking expectantly.
Apparently, Darren had already filled him in on my street fighting.

“Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. You follow this
guy to the T,” I jabbed a thumb at Darren. “Everything he says? Do it. If he
says your buddies are a bunch of crap, don’t hire them. Period.”

“But I already offered them–”

“No. If they don’t pass, they don’t pass. As for the cage fighting,” I
turned towards the back, where he’d indicated the ring. During my stints away
from “home” while fighting for Gary, I’d seen a few professional setups –
and I knew how far they’d go for image. If this guy really had the resources to
do this right, he was going to have to use them.

“You aren’t throwing a square of fence up and calling it a day. You want a
raised platform, soft floor. Something that won’t break a bone on impact, but
can withstand a big guy hitting it with all his weight – same goes
for the enclosure. A strong, taut fence all around it, about two feet taller
than Darren. Thick padding along the top, good against injuries. Small set of
stairs leading up to it. You’re gonna want it…” I thought for a moment,
mentally measuring out the best use of the area, “thirty-five, maybe forty feet
across. Lights above, facing down – something professional. When these
fights happen, you’ll want the place dark, all the attention on the ring. That
way, the fighters don’t get distracted, and all eyes are on them.”

Darren and Luke watched me carefully as I spoke. Although both of them
were a few years older than me, they seemed to respect my insight. If they
wanted to be part of my world, I was happy to put my knowledge to good use.

“How often do we do these fights?” Luke asked.

“The market dictates,” I answered. “You want my advice? Start on once
every two weeks. Measure the turnout. If you can get the word out like you
say…then it’ll be up to the fighters to put on a good match. When it’s clear
that you’ve got a core audience, expand it. Once a week.”

“Which day?” Luke chimed in, enraptured.

“Weekdays are off-limits. Everybody’s tired, nobody’s gonna want to come
see a pair of guys slap each other around. Friday’s
might
work, but you’ll lose folks who have the wife and kids. Your
best bet is either Saturday or Sunday. Sunday could work – one last
hurrah in the weekend. But I’m thinking Saturday.”

“Lots of stuff happens on Saturdays,” Luke responded.

“So what? Make your thing the
hottest
Saturday thing in town. You do that…” I jabbed my finger at him, “and you’ll
worry less about breaking even and more about spending that money.”

Luke nodded thoughtfully, turning to Darren.

“Yo, this guy. Where the fuck did you
find
this guy?”

PENSACOLA

PRESENT DAY

“L
uke, you around? I’ve got a surprise…”

We stood in entrance to Luke’s fighting gym,
New Horizons Fitness Center
. I’d never taken to the name – a
little too New Age for my tastes, honestly – but I couldn’t help but
admit that he’d kept the place in great shape since I’d left Pensacola.

Despite the laughable name, the interior was actually pretty badass.
Leaving the walls white meant that Luke could pick a pretty hardcore color
combination for everything else, and he had settled on red and black –
classic renegade. He’d even slapped a fresh coat of paint across the walls in
the meantime, just to freshen everything up.

The walls stayed white, but he’d had some painters come in and slap black
across the ceiling – making the place somehow seem
wider
, which helped the visuals. Meanwhile, the pads were all red,
the fitness gear (besides the weights) was all the standard black metal, and
the cage…

I couldn’t help but gaze at the beautiful cage. Luke had followed my
instructions to the dotted line and spared no expense to build one of the most
beautiful cages I’d ever seen. Tracklighting hung above the wide ring, a
forty-foot wide octagon of black fencing
 
that was trimmed with thick red padding across the top and lining the
brawl floor. Everything else about it was black – the stairs, the
platform walls, even the popping logo for the gym across the center of the
ring.

The cage absolutely
dominated
the
back of the gym.

He hadn’t changed a thing about it, and either he’d replaced a few things
or kept it as pristine as the day it was fresh. I remembered how he insisted on
cleaning it after every brawl himself – which was no easy feat, given the
chain-link approach to the walls.

I heard some scuffling from out of sight, and a door popped open. Lights
flicked on across the ceiling in a wave, staggering the illumination of the
ceiling rows until we were bathed in light.

“Darren! Great to see you, man! What brings you…here…”

He paused, rubbing his eyes as he walked towards us. Luke looked visibly a
few years older and chronically tired, but he was still classic Luke –
dreadlocks and all.

“Whoa, whoa,
whoa
,” he
exclaimed, peering at me like I was a ghost. “God
damn
, is that the
Bonesaw?
I thought I’d never see you again, you son of a bitch!”

He stabbed his hand out, and I shook it with a smile. “Glad to see you’ve
kept the place together, man,” I glanced around again. “Looks to be in top
shape, too.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Luke grinned sheepishly. “I just can’t let
the old place die on me, now, can I?” He turned to Darren with his trademarked
crazy, wide eyes. “Where the fuck did you
find
this guy?”

“He’s back in town for a little while,” Darren answered, deferring the
details to me.

“No shit?”

“Couple of months, maybe. I’m not staying.” I continued.

“Awesome news, man. Awesome news.”

It was apparent that he was holding just shy of begging me to come back to
the gym, but luckily for Luke, I was already favorable to a few appearances.

“I was thinking…” I started, deciding for the last time if I was going to
go through with it. “Think you’ve got some room to fit me into the roster?”

“Into the…?” Luke started, weighing the words. Knowing him, he was just
making sure he’d heard me right. “What, you wanna fight in the cage again?
Here?
”

“No point in getting stale, I figure,” I conceded. “I’ll need something to
keep me busy, after all. Is there room in the cage for an old friend?”

“Holy shit,
YES!
” Luke was
beside himself. “Fuck yeah! That’s exactly the kind of thing this place needs
to get back on top. I’m not gonna lie, shit’s been a little dry around here
lately…I’ve got enough to keep this place going another six months or so, then
that’s all she wrote. But with your name on a couple of Saturdays…wow. Yeah,
when do you wanna start?”

“Haven’t given it any thought. Not tomorrow, obviously…maybe a few weeks
from now. I’ll pop by and watch, see how it goes, and I’ll train in the
meantime.”

“Goddamn, you were a fucking miracle before, and you’ve gone and done it
again.” As tired as Luke had looked before, I could barely see it now. He must
have been exhausted, trying to figure out how to hold the gym together, and
with a classic contender in the ring…from his perspective, things were looking
up. “And it’s not just that you used to fight here. I’ve been keepin’ an eye on
you, man. You’re a legend in the underground cage fighting scene, you know
that, right?”

“It’s crossed my mind,” I replied.

“You dropped off the face of the earth a month ago, man! Nobody knew what
happened to you! I mean, it’s not uncommon for a fighter
to hang
tight for a few weeks or anything, but you disappeared off of social media and
everything
, man! People out there think
you’re dead! There was some rumblings… You know… Out of New Orleans…”

“That’s a bit
extreme,” I replied.

Darren seemed
to agree, but not with me. “It’s true. Hell, even
I
thought that something had happened to you. I know we haven’t
kept much in contact since Rio, but if it had been another week or two…I was
starting to get kind of worried.”

“You’ve got
fans, man!” Luke chided me. “I mean, fifty-five thousand people on your Twitter
ain’t exactly nothing.”

It hadn’t
even occurred to me to log into the damned thing for ages. I didn’t enjoy the
marketing aspect, but I’d been convinced to just start up an account and post
something
for the fans
from time to
time. My fighting name started popping up in articles a month later – I
didn’t give a rat’s ass about sounding like the toughest asshole on the planet,
so I just posted whatever came to mind. Other underground fighters had a
Facebook account. Some had Twitter, but they usually posted this super macho
bullshit. Nobody in my industry was The Rock, being the cool, fan-friendly
professional to the fans. They never did the selfies with their beloved
audience. I didn’t go
that
far, but I
treated them with respect and dignity, and through 140 characters every once in
a while, I gave them insight into the way I saw things.

Well,
some
insight.

I hadn’t
realized how much the fans ate that up. From a lowly couple of dozen followers,
it had flown up well into the thousands over the couple of years I’d been using
the thing – unexpected, a little flattering, but overall not my chief
concern.

Of course, I
was just “Bonesaw” to them – the name that they’d given me when I
was just starting out here at Luke’s gym. Nobody outside of close friends knew
my real name, and I intended on keeping it that way. The last thing I’d wanted
was for my family or friends from the past to figure it all out. Back then I’d
shaved my head and thrown on the darkest pair of aviators I could find. It was
about as good a disguise as I could bother with, besides, if you’ve seen one
cage fighter you’ve seen them all. I wasn’t too worried about being recognized.
I just wanted to fight. I didn’t need anybody complicating things for me.

“I’ll make an
announcement on Twitter,” I decided. “About time I let the fans now.
Bonesaw, going toe-to-toe in the New
Horizons cage. Sunny Pensacola.
That should be pretty good for business,
right?”

“I’d kiss
you, man,” Luke grinned as wide as his face could go.

“That’s…not
going to be chiefly necessary.”

“Would you
settle for a quarter of the pot? Regardless of win?”

“Screw the
money,” I told him. “I’m in good hands right now. Just keep this place going a
few months longer.”

Darren
crossed his arms, watching me with an interested glance. He knew that I was
always in it for the cash, and no question such an out-of-character moment was
suspicious…but he didn’t say anything.

“Man, they
say 24 hours can make shit pull a 180,” Luke chuckled. “Horrible to awesome in
a day. But every time you show up in my life…you pull it off in 20 minutes,
man!”

A feeling of
dread overcame me.

What happens when that stops?