Unbroken (4 page)

"I was tired of staring at the walls and being pissed off," she said, plopping her bag down against the bar and sliding onto a stool.  It was rare she got to see the bar from this perspective.    

"Oh, oh.  What did fight club do now?"

Amber stuck her tongue out at Simon.  She hated when he called Joel that.  "Nothing.  I don't know.  We got in a fight and he stormed out, I don't even know when or if he'll be home tonight. "

"About what?"

"Money, I think.  Honestly, I don't even know for sure.  One minute I'm asking him to move in with me and the next minute he's basically accusing me of being a gold digger.  I don't get him at all.  He's so touchy, especially about money."

"Probably because he never has any.  Didn't you find him sleeping on a park bench or something?

"No, stop it," she said, swatting at his arm.  Simon just smiled and spun out of reach, taking another sip of his frap. 

"Listen, I'm just saying they don't get much poorer than him.  Wouldn't it be nice to date someone with money for a change?  Someone who can take care of you instead of needing you to mother him?"

"I don't care about money," she said.  Simon did, and he couldn't understand when other people didn't.  He once told her he would never date a man who didn't own a BMW or Jaguar.  She wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, it wasn't always easy to tell with him.

"Well, you might not, but how do you know what he really wants.  Maybe his whole money issue thing is some sort of over compensation defense type thing because in reality, he's after your money."

"What money, doctor Freud?"

"Well, your potential money."

"I work at a bar, I don't think there's a lot of danger of me attracting any Bernie Madoff type suitors."

"Don't sell yourself short, girl.  You're still young.  This isn't your last stop."

"Whatever.  Anyway, he's not like that."

"How do you know," Simon said, walking back over to her and leaning against the bar.  "How well do you really know this guy, anyway?  You've known him for what, like a week?"

"Two.  But so what?  He's private, that's all."

"People who are 'private' usually have something to hide."

Amber sighed.  "Joel's not like that." 
Is he?
  He was extremely private, and never wanted to talk about his past at all.  She got the feeling she wasn't even allowed to ask about it.  Could he be hiding some deep dark secret?  Even if he was, she didn't think it had anything to do with money.  But there were worse secrets he could be keeping.

"Hey, you know who else was private and liked to keep to himself?  Jeffrey Dahmer.  That is, until he was hungry."

"Oh my god, Simon.  Would you stop?"

"Listen, I'm just saying, there could be lots of reasons he doesn't want to talk about his past or his family.  Like maybe he killed them all and is on the run, hiding out in shelters and fighting in back alleys to keep the voices from his head."

Amber put her hands over her ears.  "STOP!"

Simon laughed and Amber reached over and grabbed the fountain gun, turning it on him and spraying him with water as he ran to the back of the bar.  "Okay, okay, I'll stop.  Truce!"

She put the gun back down and glared at her friend.  "I came here so that you'd make me feel better, not so that you'd add to the crazy thoughts in my head."

He walked slowly back, shaking his shirt to peel the wet fabric from his body.  "Okay, fine.  What
do
you know about him?"

"Not very much.  His name and... actually, I guess just his name."

Simon sighed and put a damp hand on the back of Amber's shirt.  "You're lucky you have me in your life, that's all I have to say."

"Why?"

"This is the internet age.  The age of information.  You think I go out with a guy even once without cyber stalking his ass?  If for no other reason than to check out his net worth and whether he's got a secret wife somewhere that he's closeted from?  Not that that last part is a deal breaker, by the way."

Of course not.
  "So, you think you could find something out about him?"

"Girl, if I can't I'll be a lot more disappointed in myself than you'll be.  Come on, there's a computer in the back office we can use."  Simon started to walk away as he kept talking, not even waiting to see if Amber was following.

"Trust me, I haven't sucked a dick that didn't have six figures behind it since I left high school.  If I can't find out something about fight club's past, then it's because he comes from Mars and doesn't have one. "

"Gross," she said, slipping off her stool and following her friend. 
It can't hurt to just take a quick look.  Just to make sure he isn't a lunatic.

Joel

The training began normally when Joel
returned to the main gym.  He rejoined the group of fighters that Shawn had introduced him to and they all ran through some simple warm ups.  From sprints and rolls, to push ups and burpees.  The actual warm up lasted for over thirty minutes and got progressively harder as time wore on.  For the most part, Blake was leading the group in terms of what they did next, standing in front of them so that they could follow along with what he was doing.  By the time they took a break, Joel was covered in a heavy layer of sweat.  The other guys didn't seem quite as winded.

He was taking a sip from his water bottle, letting his heart rate come down a bit, when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.  It was Chris Leeman.  "Feel the burn yet?" he asked with a smile.  He was missing a tooth along his bottom row. 

Joel nodded.  "Good work out.  It always like that?" 

Chris shrugged as his hand slipped off Joel's shoulder and he grabbed his own water.  "I think Blake was putting on a bit of a show for you today."

Joel grunted.  It didn't surprise him, given the way Blake had glared at him earlier.  He wasn't sure what that guy's problem was, but he wasn't going to let him get under his skin.  He glanced over his shoulder to see whether the other fighter was nearby, but he was only bending over at one of the benches and grabbing his own drink, facing away from the two of them.  When he stood up, Joel did a double take.

"What the fuck is that?"

"What?" Chris asked.  He followed Joel's gaze and then laughed.  "I think it's for intimidation, but whenever I see it, all I can think about is that he's thick headed, or a blockhead."  Chris laughed again but then quickly added "But don't tell him I said that.  I'll deny the shit out of it."

They were looking at a tattoo stenciled onto the back of Blake's head.  It was very detailed, and was made to look as if a circular bit of his skull had broken off and underneath was a red brick wall. 

Joel smiled at Chris's comment as he shook his own head.  "I guess some people just know that MMA is going to be their life forever."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, the way he's tattooed his whole body, he's not going to be applying for any office jobs.  He's pretty much committed himself to his craft."

Chris smiled broadly, slapping Joel on the back again and then putting his water down.  "Yep, I think you're right about that.  Some people are just born to be bad-asses.  But hey, isn't that why we're here, too?  Anyway, come on, let's get back."

Joel put his own water down and turned to follow the fighter back to where the other three guys were starting to assemble again. 
Am I any better than Blake?  No tattoos, but I have no future other than fighting either.
  Maybe the only difference between the two men was that Blake accepted his fate, embracing who he was while Joel always had the lingering doubt that he barely even knew himself.

The men started to lightly spar after donning their protective gear, pairing up while taking turns sitting one of them out to rest and act as ref when needed. Joel and Chris faced off, circling while they gauged each other's style.  When they came together, they were evenly matched, with no man seeming to gain any advantage before time was called for a switch.

Joel next fought with Kingston.  The big man nodded to him when they started, reaching his long arm out to touch knuckles lightly before leaping forward immediately and catching Joel on the side of the head with a punch.  It knocked his head back, but he stayed on his feet, most of the sting from the hit being absorbed by his padded helmet.

Kingston was more aggressive than Chris, and Joel was forced to take a more defensive stance.  He was able to parry the rest of the black man's attacks, but he hardly had time to throw anything of his own.  He was both surprised and impressed with how quick his opponent could move, relative to his size.  By the time their pair up was over, Joel was winded and happy to hear that it was his turn to sit out.

He sat on the side waiting for his heart rate to settle as he watched the other four men continue to spar.  He was still tired from his lack of sleep the night before, and out of shape from the previous two weeks of what almost amounted to bed rest, his only exercise being the frequent naked wrestling matches that Amber usually initiated.  He smiled as he thought about this morning and how she had greeted him in the shower.

How did I manage to even fuck that one up?
  She didn't deserve his outburst.  Obviously Amber wasn't after his money, and he knew she wasn't making a subtle accusation that he needed to start paying rent.  Yet he wasn't the kind of guy that needed her to point it out. 
What kind of man needs a woman to put a roof over his head?  You're a pussy, and you always were.
  His father's voice raged in his head as if he were standing right next to him.  The old man was right, as infrequent as that was. 

He needed to contribute, and the only way he could see to do that was to find Randy and see if he could line up another underground match.  He may have lost his last one, but he wouldn't be distracted this time.  He could forget that one loss and return to his unbeaten status, building up a bankroll big enough to at least contribute to the rent.  One or two fights a month should do it.  No one would have to know.

"Joel, you coming or what?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Blake was standing above him, glaring down.  "You're with me," he said.

Leaping to his feet with a surge of adrenaline that hid how tired he was, Joel followed sour puss to the center of the mats, his eyes drawn to the unique tattoo.  What had Chris called him?  Blockhead?  Maybe that fit better than sour puss.  Joel was curious to find out just how thick his skull was.  When Blake stopped and turned, Joel gave him a tight smile and nod but the other man just grimaced in return.  "Show me why you get a free pass," he said, and then he lunged forward.

Joel put his arms out to stop Blake as he came forward, but the more experienced fighter dropped his shoulder at the last moment, catching Joel in the stomach and blasting the breath from his lungs as he flew backward.  He instinctively grabbed onto the other man's back in order to keep from being knocked completely off his feet, but Blake's arms wrapped around his waist and he felt a leg swing around behind him.  The full weight of his opponent pushed against him, tripping him and then landing hard on top of his body as they crashed into the mats.  The back of his helmeted head bounced as it hit the ground, quickly met by Blake's elbow from the top.

Raising his arms to protect his head without thinking, Joel knew he was in trouble when he felt Blake push his arm against his face and slip his own around the back of Joel's head.  He'd foolishly put himself in a position where his opponent could apply an arm triangle, and he had been too dazed  and tired to foresee it, much less defend against it.  As Blake squeezed, Joel had no choice but to tap out before he lost consciousness, although he did wait until the edges of his vision started to blacken before doing so. 

Blake waited a fraction of a second longer than he needed to before he loosened his grip.  He slid his arm out from under Joel and grunted.  "Fucking joke, like I thought."