Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Diane chuckles, the movement ruffling the fine pink hair framing her face. “You’ve got the moves of Volkanovski and the face of Alex Pettyfer, and yet you’re so modest. Viewers will go crazy for you.”
Heat crawls over my face. I glance toward the front desk. Aubrey seems to have disappeared, leaving me alone with Diane. It’s not the first time a woman’s complimented me, but this feels different. She’s not trying to earn a ride on my dick. That situation I can handle with a quick “not interested.” This one, I’m not sure what to say.
“Listen, Griffin.” Her keen expression morphs into rapid-fire business talk. “I work for a company that’s putting together a new reality show. It’s going to be Survivor meets Fight Club.”
I raise an eyebrow at the basic concept. “Brawling on a desert island?”
She cocks her head like I just gave her a great idea. “No. But I like that concept. Maybe Big Brother meets Fight Club would’ve been more accurate.” She waves her hand in the air as if she’s out of analogies. “Twelve skilled fighters—amateur, underground, bare-knuckle, street fighters—will live and train together. You’ll compete against each other in various challenges, both physical and mental. There will be matches twice a week and the loser goes home. Last one standing wins a very substantial amount of money. However…” She lowers her voice, forcing me to lean in. “The three finalists also win a large cash prize.”
Substantial. Large. Cash. Prize. Four winners are better odds than one. Molly’s dreams of paying for college without the burden of crippling debt after graduation flash through my brain.
“How substantial are these prizes?” I ask. “Are we talking compact car money, down payment on a house money, or four years of tuition at an Ivy League School type of money?”
She snorts at the last one. “That’s not exactly something you’re worried about, is it?”
Ignoring the dig, I shrug. “Just trying to get a clearer picture of the stakes.”
“It’d be enough to make a significant impact on your life. And maybe in the lives of your loved ones.”
I don’t want to seem too eager, and I feel like a monster towering over this lady, so I nod to one of the benches. “You want to sit down?” I ask.
“Sure.”
She follows me over to the bench where I’d left my water bottle earlier. I grab it and take a deep swig, then sit next to her.
“So, what’s the catch?” The money is certainly a big motivator but the reality of putting myself on television, allowing my skills and reputation to be judged by a bunch of arrogant fuckwads, leaves a bad feeling burrowing in my chest.
But the idea of winning a pot of money big enough to fund Molly’s college education slices through my hesitation like an axe kick.
Diane switches into serious mode again. “You’d have to be away from home for up to eight weeks to film the show.”
“Two months?” Shit. That’s a long time.
“We’d pay you a small daily stipend to cover whatever you miss from work. No matter where you end up in the competition.”
I might not have a job to come home to if I’m gone for eight weeks. Mr. Nelson is patient, but summer and fall are always busy at the garage. On the other hand, he’s close to retiring and keeps hinting at how much he’d like me to buy the garage when he’s ready to call it quits.
If I win this show, the money could be for Molly’s future and mine. It could give us the start in life that neither of our families have provided.
“What do you think?” Diane prompts when I’ve been silent for too long. “You could transform this into other opportunities. You’re a good-looking kid, Griff. Got panty-melter and heartbreaker written all over your insolent face and bad-boy swagger.”
“Uh, thanks.” I side-eye her. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Slow your roll, kid.” She snorts. “I’m not interested. But our audience, our sponsors, and other industry folks would definitely snap you up.”
“I’m not a professional fighter.” The places and reasons I learned to fight would make this woman’s pretty pink hair curl.
“No shit, kid. We’re not looking for professionals. And we don’t give a fuck if the only fighting you do is underground. Hell, it adds to the mystery. As long as you stay out of trouble from the time you sign your contract until after the show airs, it’s all good.”
I glance around the gym, as if searching for answers in the weights and machines. “Give me some time to think about it?” Thank God, my voice comes out steady despite the turmoil rolling through me. “A time frame and dollar amount of the daily stipend would be nice too.”
Diane nods, her fierce expression melting into something with more understanding. “Of course. I can email you those details and give you a month to decide. Then we need to start the pre-show prep.”