Wrecked (6 page)

“No way.
It’s starting? Now?” one guy said.

“Yeah,
let’s go. I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to miss seeing
him
,” a
girl replied.

They filed
out the back door. Soon, another group hurried after them, followed by another
group. People were streaming out the back door like squirrels rushing after a
pile of acorns. Some stayed, but nearly half the bar cleared out.

“What do
you think they’re all excited about?” Cody asked.

Sensing
this was the perfect getaway excuse, I said, “I’m going to go check it out.
I’ll join back up with you guys in a bit.”

I glanced
at Daniela and she flashed me an apologetic expression for Justin’s behavior.
“Okay, I’ll keep these guys entertained while we finish our drinks,” Daniela
said. “Let us know what you see.”

I snatched
up my jacket then grabbed my clutch that had been strategically placed between
Justin and me to act as a barrier. I stood and hurried out the back door, eager
to escape from my “date”.

I didn’t
know what I expected to see, but this certainly wasn’t it. There was a large
tent set up outside that looked like it came straight from a carnival. People
were huddled around an elevated octagon stage surrounded by metal fencing. The
whole area was lit by bright spotlights. What was all of this?

Attracted
by curiosity as well as the energy of the crowd, I found myself wiggling
through a sea of bodies to get a closer look at the stage. Inside the octagon
was a mat that had a large logo of a squirrel wearing fighter gloves that said
“The Bearded Brawl”. After noticing faint blood stains on the mat, it became
clear to me that this was some kind of fighting arena.

A suave
man in a white suit entered the cage with a microphone. “Ladies and gentleman,”
he announced with dramatic flare. “We just had an exciting opening match but
we’ve got something even more exciting in store for you. The match you’ve all
been waiting for. Our main event.”

The crowd
cheered and whistled. Some rattled their beer mugs against the fence.

Two men
stepped up onto the stage and entered the cage. One was wearing a red hoodie
with matching trunks and the other was wearing a dark blue version of the same
outfit. They both had their hoods over their heads so I couldn’t see their
faces, but their sweaters were partially open and I could snag a peek at their
torsos. And what a peek it was. From the teasingly little I could see, it was
clear each had ripped abs and sculpted pecs like they were carved by a
sculptor. The one in blue particularly caught my attention. He was bouncing on
his toes and shaking his arms to stay loose and to keep himself warmed up for
the fight. Each bounce sent ripples through his hard muscles, which in turn
made my own heart bounce. A surge of desire through my body made me realize how
affected I was just by the sight of him. I was unwittingly reminded of Tattoos
and Muscles, except I couldn’t tell if this guy had any tattoos underneath his
hoodie. Tim had a gorgeous bod but I don’t think he could compete with blue
trunks.

“On my
left, standing at six feet, two inches and weighing in at two hundred pounds of
pure, raw muscle. Don’t let his friendly face fool you, he’ll squeeze the life
out of you if he gets you in his hold. We’ve got Abram ‘Mr. Hyde’ Wallace!”

The crowd
cheered for the man in red trunks. Abram hopped around, shadow-boxing the air,
displaying his quick fists and dexterous footwork. I squinted, trying to get a
view of his face but I couldn’t see much beneath the hood. I could see his
smile though; it was wide and showcased neat rows of white teeth, which made it
seem like he was just happy to be here.

“And on my
right, standing also at a height of six feet, two inches and weighing two
hundred and five pounds with fists of steel, it’s your defending champion,
Hunter ‘The Hammer’ Jensen!”

The crowd
erupted once again but louder than they did for Abram. I heard a girl cry out,
“I love you Hunter!”

Hunter
didn’t make as much of a show as Abram. He simply continued shaking out his
limbs and bouncing on his toes. Although his head was down seemingly in deep
focus, he seemed to be soaking in the cheers, absorbing the crowd’s energy to
channel later in the fight.

“It’s
exciting isn’t it?” a male voice said next to me.

I turned
to see a tall guy around my age with a smooth head standing beside me. He had
hard, chiseled features that complemented the defined muscles stretching
against his t-shirt and jeans. I wasn’t really a fan of bald guys, but this
dude was quite attractive. A quick scan of his build and I wondered why he
wasn’t in the cage himself. He had a smile on his face that looked friendly.

“Yeah,
I’ve never seen this before,” I responded. “What kind of fighting is this?”

He
chuckled. “So you’re not a devoted fan of Hunter, apparently. It’s mixed
martial arts. Punching, kicking, wrestling—pretty much anything goes except for
biting, crotch shots, and eye gouging.”

I narrowed
my eyes. “That sounds brutal.”

“It’s
exciting to watch for sure. And it’s not too bad for the fighters when it comes
to safety. Probably no more dangerous than playing professional football or
doing boxing. I’d even say it’s safer than boxing.”

Curious, I
asked, “How can it be safer when you can do much more than punching?”

He
shrugged. “Some fighters win through holds and submissions. Usually the guy in
the submission just taps out before he gets really hurt.” He pointed to red
trunks. “Abram’s strength is in his submissions; he has a wrestling background.
As for striking—” He pointed to blue trunks. “Hunter’s strength is his stand-up
game. He throws a mean punch, which is why he earned the name ‘The Hammer’. But
the refs tend to stop matches before fighters get seriously hurt. There’s no
ten count that allows a fighter to get back up and continue fighting again
after a mild concussion. Once someone goes down after a good punch, the ref
pretty much always ends the fight.”

“Wow, you
know a lot about this.”

He
grinned. “Name’s Gary.” He extended his large hand.

I took it and
he shook firmly. “Lorrie.”

His grin
widened. “Well Lorrie, all I got to say is you’re in for a treat if this is
your first time watching this.”

“Is this
like a sanctioned event or something? Why are they having a mixed martial arts
fight at this bar?”

“It’s
sponsored by the Bearded Squirrel. As far as being sanctioned . . .” He
shrugged. “Let’s just say it’s semi-legal. Legal enough—and good enough for
business—that they’re willing to take the risk.”

The
announcer stepped out of the cage and a man in a light blue button-down and
black pants entered. Judging by his formal attire, he was the referee. He
stepped into the center, rolled up his sleeves and pointed to his left.

“Red
corner, are you ready?” he shouted.

Abram
peeled back his hood and removed his sweatshirt, throwing it over the cage to
his coach. He tilted his chin up, beat his fist against his chest, and nodded.
He had neatly combed brown hair parted on the side and a soft face with a wide
nose. He reminded me of Mr. Rogers from the kid’s show
Mr. Roger’s
Neighborhood
—except this version of Mr. Rogers was on steroids and too big
to fit in sweaters.

“Blue
corner are you ready?”

Hunter
removed his hood then slid the sweater off his massive arms and threw it over
the cage. That’s when I saw his face; and the tats around the side of his chest
and neck.

My heart
stopped.

He
was
Tattoos and Muscles.

I heard
women screaming Hunter’s name and one or two of them shouting for him to marry
them. He didn’t seem to notice, rather his focus was solely on the opponent
before him. The hammer I’d painstakingly drawn in my sketchbook was etched on
the side of his arm. There was no mistaking it. I’d finally found out his name.

Hunter
Jensen.

I watched
anxiously as both men stepped forward and approached one another.

The
referee addressed each fighter. “I want a clean fight, you know the rules. No
crotch shots, eye gouging, or anything dirty. If you do, I’ll have you
disqualified. Are we clear?”

Each
fighter nodded.

Abram and
Hunter tapped gloves then each took a step back. The referee slashed his arm
between them like a knife cutting palpable tension. A silence fell on the
crowd.

I looked
at Gary who had wide eyes and a grin on his face. He seemed pumped to see the
action start.

“Fight!”
the referee yelled, pulling his arm away and stepping back.

Abram
immediately rushed for Hunter, brown eyes blazing red. His friendly expression
now maniacal, he lived up to his name “Mr. Hyde”. Hunter ducked and hopped to
the side, avoiding what would’ve been a knockout blow.

Abram
threw lightning quick jabs left and right but Hunter dodged each of his
strikes. A wild jab caught Hunter across the cheek but Hunter quickly shook the
blow off as if it was a light tap.

Hunter
circled around the ring and Abram followed. They cautiously circled each other
until Abram’s back was toward me and Hunter was facing my direction.

Abram went
for a punch again but dropped at the last moment to tackle Hunter’s legs. The
punch had been a feint. Hunter quickly hopped backward and thrust his body weight
forward as Abram slammed into his legs. Hunter managed to keep his balance,
preventing the immediate takedown but they were still struggling. I could
clearly see Hunter’s face. I could see his mouth guard behind his grimacing
lips. He was straining with every ounce of energy to lift Abram off the ground
so that Abram wouldn’t have leverage to pull Hunter’s legs out from under him.

“Uh oh,”
Gary said. “Hunter has a shitty ground game. If he gets taken down, it’s over.”

I watched
in horror as Abram was about to overpower Hunter and take him down. Once on the
ground, he’d probably only be able to defend himself until the round ended. I
was barely aware of my hands cupping the sides of my face in disbelief. My
savior was going to lose.

I watched
him with fierce intensity. My breathing slowed as my heart rate jumped. Hunter
must’ve sensed the tension because he tilted his head, diverting his attention
from Abram. His dark eyes locked onto mine. He stared at me. My breath caught.
A millisecond passed. Or a second. Or an hour. I didn’t know. It had to have
been my imagination.

There’s
no way he spotted me.

Suddenly
we broke eye contact. Hunter returned his attention to Abram. Hunter growled,
summoning strength from who knows where and picked up Abram and threw him to
the side like a two hundred pound rag doll. The move was good enough to buy
Hunter enough time to regain his footing.

Abram got
to his feet and lunged with a wide hook. Hunter ducked and shot skyward with
powerful legs, landing an uppercut under Abram’s chin. A mouth guard flew
across the ring and clattered against the fence. Abram crumpled to the ground
in a daze. Hunter was about to jump on top of Abram to land the finishing blow
but the referee stepped in between.

“Stop!
Stop! It’s over!” the referee shouted, waving one arm over his head. Hunter
backed off.

A bell
chimed three times.

Hunter was
declared the winner. The crowd cheered. One girl fainted with her hand over
heart and her friend had to fan her with a “Go Hunter!” sign they made with
blue glitter.

Hunter
paraded around the ring with his fists in the air. When he walked over to my
side of the cage, I ducked behind Gary’s wide back to hide from him. The last
thing I wanted was for Hunter to acknowledge my presence. It would be
completely awkward considering I’d ran off from his place without explanation.
He probably still thought I was suicidal. I also still technically had his
shirt and jeans. Maybe he’d demand to come over to my place to take his clothes
back. Or demand that I’d bring them to his place. Either way, I didn’t want to
get involved with him. I had enough shit in my life to deal with already.

After
seeing Hunter win, I decided to leave before we ran into each other. I could’ve
been mistaken—it very well could’ve been my imagination—but I was almost
certain he had recognized me right before he delivered the knockout blow.

“It was
nice to meet you Gary,” I said. “Thanks for explaining to me how this all
works.”

“Leaving
already?” he replied. “A little too violent for your tastes perhaps?”

“Eh . . .
I just have to get back to my friends in the bar. They’re probably wondering
what I’ve been doing out here for so long.”

He
grinned. “It was nice meeting you Lorrie. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

I smiled
at him then turned to the crowd and began wiggling my way through the sea of
excited bodies. Although everyone was packed in tightly beneath the tent, most
were gracious enough to make room for me passing through. I had to push a few
people aside though. The endeavor was like an obstacle course and I already
felt the first signs of sweat prickling my skin despite the cold weather. I
finally caught a faint glimpse of the familiar beer-guzzling squirrel sign atop
the bar before more energetic bodies piled in and obscured my view. It took a lot
longer than I expected to weave through the crowd probably because more people
had trickled in when I was watching the match. I was nearly out, when I ran
into someone tall wearing a gray, zippered sweater.