Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Travis?” Penelope’s voice comes through my phone’s speaker, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Travis, are you there?”
“I’m here, Crown.”
“I tried to pick up the UPS package you sent, but it was too heavy, so I have to go back tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you ask Hayden to help you?”
“He’s in zombie mode for a deadline with his app. Besides, my new boyfriend said he’ll help me get it, so—” She sucks in a breath. “I mean, yeah, I’ll ask Hayden for his help.”
“You’re not supposed to be dating anyone,” I say. “I told you to focus on skating.”
“What?” She laughs. “Who said anything about having a boyfriend? You must be hearing things.”
“Stop fucking with me, Crown.” I shake my head. “The only thing that you should be focused on is getting twenty-eight championships to surpass our mom’s record.”
“That’s going to take me years,” she says.
“And?”
“And I need to make sure that I have a life off the ice.”
“No, you don’t.”
“If Tatiana Brave can have tons of boyfriends and still dominate without so much as a yawn or a misstep, trust me, I can do the same.”
I stop wrapping my hands. “Tatiana has ‘tons of boyfriends?’”
“I mean, I don’t know. I’m assuming from the way guys look at her and ask her out all the time.” She pauses. “I sent you a picture of her the other day and you never responded. She’s not all that, right?”
“Penelope, I honestly don’t want to discuss Tatiana with you ever again.”
“But—”
“Drop it.”
“Fine.”
Feeling slightly guilty about my ulterior reasoning, I wait for her to begin another panic rant, but she doesn’t.
“I’m worried about you,” she says. “Like, not to sound crazy or anything, but I get vibes that you’re not okay from time to time.”
“I’m fine, Crown,” I say. “I promise.”
“When is your next match?”
“In a few hours.”
“What’s the prize amount this time?”
“Five thousand dollars.” I lie.
“Wow.” There’s a smile in her voice. “That’s amazing! Mom and Dad would be so proud of your fighting.”
“They wanted me to go to college.”
“Oh, right. They’d hate your fighting.”
I laugh, and for the next half hour we drift into an easier conversation.
It’s not until someone calls her other line, her “coach” supposedly, that she rushes me off the phone.
Grateful, I finish taping my hands and flex my fingers. I silently remind myself that tonight’s fight can’t last that long since I have to fight tomorrow and the day after.
“Humble Kid?” A guy taps my shoulder from behind. “You’re up in five.”
“Got it. Thanks.” I follow him out of the garage and into an open space.
Unlike the Underground, where the fights somewhat resemble the ones at the professional level, this place is an utter dump.
There’s a metal cage that sits at the center of the floor, and I’m pretty sure it’s used for dog and cock fighting whenever MMA hopefuls aren’t trapped inside.
There are no announcers, pricey badges, or excess security. There isn’t even a timer for the rounds or a referee.
The cage is it, and the match starts once both fighters are locked away.
The winner is the last guy standing.
As I’m approaching it, I spot the usual bettors and enthusiasts surrounding the metal, but a glimmer of soft pink catches my attention.
Everyone knows to wear dark and dreary colors in case the cops break up this illegal operation, so I’m confused why someone would blatantly break that rule.
I squint to get a better view and stop walking.
Tatiana?
Wearing a skin-tight, pink dress and a beige baseball cap over her curls, she’s completely oblivious to the long stares from the guys around her; they’re as transfixed by her presence as I am.
Her eyes meet mine and she offers a small wave.
I smile and step inside the cage amidst a sudden roar from the spectators.
My opponent, a guy who is half a foot taller than me, steps inside and locks his door—signaling that we can start.
I’m only getting five hundred dollars for this shit…
He rushes toward me with a flying knee and I immediately grab it, pulling him down to the mat. I punch him in the jaw for attempting that type of crazy shit so early and hook my right arm around his neck.
Squeezing him as hard as I can, I resist all his weak punches while he struggles to break free.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I say to him. “Do you have any idea who the hell you’re fighting? How little we’re getting paid for this?”
“You’re going to kill him, Kid!” “Let him go!” “Tap out!”
The yelling outside the cage might as well be whispers; I never pay attention to them.
“You’re losing tonight,” I say to him. “Give up while I’m still being nice…”
I squeeze his neck tighter with every second that passes, demanding that he quit.
He claws at my arm before finally coming to his senses. He taps my hand three times, signaling for mercy, confirming he’s done.