Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Terrence’s eyes went slightly wide, and Mitchell and Brock tilted their heads at me, clearly confused.
Looked like Terrence was keeping a little secret from his teammates.
“Scotty Green?” Mustgrave sat up in his chair. “He’s been banned from the premises.”
“Not well enough.” Lotto pointed at Terrence with his thumb. “Ask him. He met with Scotty earlier today.”
“Don’t know the guy.” Terrence shrugged. He was trying to be nonchalant, but his movements were tense and choppy.
“You know there’s cameras everywhere, right? Including the venue?”
“Go ahead and check. I got nothing to hide.”
“Sure.” I turned to Mustgrave. “Check the recording from about two hours ago. You’ll see Scotty hand Terrence a bottle of Gatorade. Weird for someone who doesn’t know Scotty.”
Brock huffed. “Gatorade? Really? So he accepted a drink.”
“Oh, he accepted more than that. Check what else Scotty handed him before that bottle. I’m sure the tapes picked that up, too.”
Mitchell took a step closer to me and puffed out his chest. “The fuck are you getting at, Freakshow?”
“This isn’t the ring anymore, Meteor,” I snapped and squared up against him. “It’s Frankie. Smiley’s is legit, unlike some of the people in this room.”
“Calm down, both of you.” Mustgrave stood from his chair and twirled his mustache. “Though I must ask you to get to the point already.”
Lotto set a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back. Then he gave me a nod and cleared his throat.
“Base One Gym should be disqualified for using the PEDs supplied by Scotty Green.”
“What?” Brock blurted.
“Excuse me?” Mitchell echoed. “What fucking PEDs?”
Terrence didn’t say a word. His mouth hung open. Smug satisfaction made me smirk. Asshat. Had he thought he wouldn’t get caught?
“Keep your jealous bullshit to yourself, Frankie,” Mitchell growled. “Trying to snuff us out of the competition?”
“Your teammate did that when he took Scotty’s drugs.” Lotto snapped his fingers at Mustgrave. “Drug test them. That shit will light up like Christmas.”
“The fuck it won’t,” Brock answered. “I didn’t need PEDs to beat the shit out of you in the cages, and I still don’t need it now.”
“Maybe not you two.” I looked right at Terrence. “But you were kind of the weak link of the team, weren’t you? Had muscle but no technique and speed. A poor excuse for a teammate with two underground legends.”
“Shut your damn mouth,” Terrence demanded.
“Did I hit a nerve?” I mocked and crossed my arms. “Are you going to run off to Scotty for more drugs to beat my ass?”
Mustgrave waved a hand. “Calm down, everyone. This isn’t the ring.”
“If it was, Frankie would already be six feet under,” Mitchell hissed. “Go ahead and drug test me. Drug test all of us. We’ll prove it fair and square.”
“Sure,” Lotto agreed. “And when Terrence’s test comes back positive for PEDs, you can say goodbye to Vegas.”
Brock snorted. “And when it comes up negative, you can expect another fucking beat-down in the ring. Isn’t that right, Terrence?”
“Yeah,” he answered. But it was weak, half-assed, and earned strange looks from both Mitchell and Brock.
I smirked. Looked like the illusion was shattered.
“Does it say anything in the contract about using PEDs, Lotto?” I asked.
“It sure does. I’m sure you know that, too, Mustgrave, since you wrote it.” Lotto took his phone out and clicked around until he opened the digital copy of our contract. He cleared his throat, “Any team caught using performance-enhancing substances, including but not limited to—”
“I know what the fuck the contract says!” Terrence shouted.
Mustgrave took a step back and put a hand on his chest. “Calm down, Mr. Hudson, before you give an old man a heart attack.”
“Or yourself.” I faked a look of sympathy. “PEDs have some nasty side effects. How’s your dick doing?”
Terrence swung at me with the grace of a bull. I stepped back and easily dodged. Mustgrave shouted something; Brock and Mitchell swore at us. I wrapped an arm around Terrence’s neck and twisted him toward me. It was almost comical how easily he went down.
I pinned him with a knee on his massive chest. He tried to push me off but a fist to the side of his head shut him up real quick.
“Like I said, muscle but no technique and speed.” I glared at him and leaned in, “I might not be in the ring anymore, but I can still take you down easy.”
“All right, Freakshow, let our damn third go.” Brock jerked on the back of my jacket. “You proved your point.”
I stepped back but not before giving Terrence’s thigh a nice kick for good measure.
Lotto pointed to Terrence. “Check the tapes and the test. When it comes up with PEDs, we want them out, or we walk. Can’t afford to lose both your top teams, now can you?”
Mustgrave narrowed his eyes at Lotto. “Another one of your threats, Lotto?”
“Not a threat if there’s evidence to back us up. It’s in the contract.” I glanced at Mitchell. “That shit’s fair and square.”