Read Online Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance by Roxy Sinclaire, Natasha Tanner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roxy Sinclaire, Natasha Tanner
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directories that people, tourists 99% of the time, would buy of the hills. Flint Lowe’s production company was only ten miles from my gym. She was literally that close to me the whole time and I never knew it.
Any time I jogged after that, I’d fantasize about her seeing me, recognizing me, and I’d imagine what she’d say.
Would she be happy to see me? I didn’t think so. I was the guy there to remind her that at one point her father hit her so hard she fell down the stairs. I was the guy who was there to remind her that at one point some guy stood in her yard and stared at her window until something happened.
I didn’t entertain this fantasy for too long.
Still, I wanted to see her, and although I would never approach her in person I could always watch her trailer as often as I wanted to.
She was beautiful.
12
Adam
M y audition wasn’t as low-key as Ricky and Ross made it sound.
The building looked like it used to be a parking garage that had been completely taken over. Other than the front door, there were no openings to the outside world. You had to have the okay to get in, or enough money to pay off the doorman.
There was a crowd of at least fifty people—everyone was already cheering, and money was exchanging hands on bets. It was just an audition and they were already laying money down on people without a second glance. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Beer was being served from cases by beautiful girls that didn’t look like they belonged within 100 miles of this place. I tried not to think about what Brooklyn would think if she saw me there. Would she think I enjoyed knocking out her dad?
They were pairing off fighters randomly, only using weight classes as a guide.
Several of the fighters were pretty obvious as to why they were there. They were either too old, or had some look that the pro MMA fights didn’t want to represent. These weren’t televised fights though, it didn’t matter one bit if you looked like an escaped convict and were covered in gnarly scars.
I was one of the last few fighters, so I got to see the action through everyone else, and smell the sting of adrenaline without dirtying my hands yet. I looked away from the ring for a moment and saw Ricky heading towards me, with a goofy smile on his face.
“Heya newbie, glad you showed up,” he said, turning to look at the fighters the second he was next to me. He was a thin guy, didn’t look like he had fought a day in his life. I couldn’t help but wonder on more than one occasion how he ended up in that line of work.
“Couldn’t miss this,” I replied, shrugging. I didn’t want him to know how desperate I was for the ring, for the money.
“If you are one of the ones who make it, you get five hundred bucks as congratulations,” he threw in, as if I needed any more convincing. I would have done it for free.
“How many people is he looking to recruit?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably. I didn’t want to go into this and bust somebody completely open only to find out that everybody got through.
“Just five, but there are fifteen fights going on,” he replied, eyes not leaving the ongoing fight. “Not everyone who wins deserves to be in our crew. However, every single person who loses sure as hell doesn’t get in our crew,” he explained, watching the ring. One of the fighters kicked the shit out of another’s face, a stream of blood and teeth slipped down the opponent’s face.
“Rules are basically the same as official, no back of the head blows, no throat blows, no wrenching fingers or toes, no fish hooking, yadda, yadda, yadda, you know the deal I’m sure,” he turned and smiled at me. “Just basically fight so that your grandma would be proud,” he joked. The imagery of a crowd of grandmothers watching instead of the swarthy one that was there was more than a little entertaining.
“Yeah, alright,” I agreed. We grew silent and just watched, the fights weren’t longer than ten minutes,
Any time I jogged after that, I’d fantasize about her seeing me, recognizing me, and I’d imagine what she’d say.
Would she be happy to see me? I didn’t think so. I was the guy there to remind her that at one point her father hit her so hard she fell down the stairs. I was the guy who was there to remind her that at one point some guy stood in her yard and stared at her window until something happened.
I didn’t entertain this fantasy for too long.
Still, I wanted to see her, and although I would never approach her in person I could always watch her trailer as often as I wanted to.
She was beautiful.
12
Adam
M y audition wasn’t as low-key as Ricky and Ross made it sound.
The building looked like it used to be a parking garage that had been completely taken over. Other than the front door, there were no openings to the outside world. You had to have the okay to get in, or enough money to pay off the doorman.
There was a crowd of at least fifty people—everyone was already cheering, and money was exchanging hands on bets. It was just an audition and they were already laying money down on people without a second glance. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Beer was being served from cases by beautiful girls that didn’t look like they belonged within 100 miles of this place. I tried not to think about what Brooklyn would think if she saw me there. Would she think I enjoyed knocking out her dad?
They were pairing off fighters randomly, only using weight classes as a guide.
Several of the fighters were pretty obvious as to why they were there. They were either too old, or had some look that the pro MMA fights didn’t want to represent. These weren’t televised fights though, it didn’t matter one bit if you looked like an escaped convict and were covered in gnarly scars.
I was one of the last few fighters, so I got to see the action through everyone else, and smell the sting of adrenaline without dirtying my hands yet. I looked away from the ring for a moment and saw Ricky heading towards me, with a goofy smile on his face.
“Heya newbie, glad you showed up,” he said, turning to look at the fighters the second he was next to me. He was a thin guy, didn’t look like he had fought a day in his life. I couldn’t help but wonder on more than one occasion how he ended up in that line of work.
“Couldn’t miss this,” I replied, shrugging. I didn’t want him to know how desperate I was for the ring, for the money.
“If you are one of the ones who make it, you get five hundred bucks as congratulations,” he threw in, as if I needed any more convincing. I would have done it for free.
“How many people is he looking to recruit?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably. I didn’t want to go into this and bust somebody completely open only to find out that everybody got through.
“Just five, but there are fifteen fights going on,” he replied, eyes not leaving the ongoing fight. “Not everyone who wins deserves to be in our crew. However, every single person who loses sure as hell doesn’t get in our crew,” he explained, watching the ring. One of the fighters kicked the shit out of another’s face, a stream of blood and teeth slipped down the opponent’s face.
“Rules are basically the same as official, no back of the head blows, no throat blows, no wrenching fingers or toes, no fish hooking, yadda, yadda, yadda, you know the deal I’m sure,” he turned and smiled at me. “Just basically fight so that your grandma would be proud,” he joked. The imagery of a crowd of grandmothers watching instead of the swarthy one that was there was more than a little entertaining.
“Yeah, alright,” I agreed. We grew silent and just watched, the fights weren’t longer than ten minutes,
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