Brawler (12 page)

TWENTY-THREE

Jaz

Day sixty.

She met me in the center of the ring, and unlike the previous two fighters, she had no interest in a slow start. Her punches were quick and they came one right after the other.

I went to her with everything I had. After a series of body shots, I hit her with a three-shot combination followed up with a hook to the head that didn’t connect.

Each time, she’d counter with a punch that came close to dropping me to the mat. The only thing that kept me on my feet was a little bit of stupidity and a whole bunch of stubborn.

Think, Jaz, think.

“The harder you hit, the harder your opponent will counter. Mix it up, light, hard, light hard. Then, catch your challenge right after she’s hit you light, and let her have it.”

I focused on my breathing and tried to slow my pace slightly. She stepped in close to work my body, and I let her. With my elbows tucked in tight, I took everything she had to offer. In return, I reluctantly followed Ripp’s instructions and threw a few light punches.

Her next few punches into my upper arms and face weren’t near as powerful as before. After countering with a few light jabs, I cocked my left, and threw a hook to her ribs with every ounce of my being.

The punch connected hard, and she winced in pain.

Fuck yes!

I felt like celebrating, but knew I was one punch into what was going to be a very long fight.

“Throw your hooks short, and your jabs long.”

I threw a long right as if I was trying to hit someone fifty feet away. The punch glanced off the side of her jaw, but let her know I was in it to win it.

She came back with a hook I didn’t even see coming, and caught me hard on the chin. My vision blurred, my ears rang, and I felt my legs go weak.

Fuck.

“When you’re in trouble, keep your hands high and your elbows low.”

I raised my hands to protect my face and hoped to regain my senses quickly. Her gloves pummeled my forearms, pounding them into the sides of my face.

“Don’t let her finish punching before you start. Trading punches is for fools and show-offs, not for a talented fighter.”

While she continued to pound against my arms, I swung a hopeful uppercut.
The punch was wild, and didn’t connect, but it caused her to step back and give me some much needed space.

She was a seasoned fighter, and Ripp was right. Boxing her was tough, and whatever I went to her with, she was prepared to counter. I was a good boxer, but she seemed to be a great boxer.

There was only one way to win against a girl like her and that was to
beat
her. The only way to beat her would be to lure her into an absolute slugfest.

A brawl.

She swung a wild right and I countered with a right hook. Both punches missed, and she came at me with a combo to the body that reminded me why I needed to do 500 sit-ups a night.

By the grace of God, the bell rang before she got another power punch unleashed.

I stumbled to the corner feeling like I needed a new plan of attack. Trying to box this girl was getting me nowhere.

Ripp pulled my mouthpiece. “She’s killing you, Jaz.”

I inhaled a deep breath. It didn’t take a ringside commentator to realize I was losing. Hell, I knew it all too well.

“I know it,” I said. “And what am I going to do to stop it?”

“Catch your breath, and we’ll come up with a plan.”

I glanced around the ring. Ethan stood beside the champ while he talked to Kelsey. I imagined the were reminiscing about all of the championships they’d won. Frustrated, I shifted my focus to my opponent’s corner. Her trainer appeared to be giving congratulatory comments.

I wasn’t prepared to lose. But I didn’t want to box her for one more round.

Kelsey’s raspy voice caused me to turn toward Ripp. 

“Listen up, Spaz.”

I turned around. “Yes, Sir?”

“You a boxer, or a brawler?” he asked.

“A little of both, Sir”

“Bullshit,” he hissed.

I haven’t got time for your bullshit, Old Man. I’ve got to figure out a way to win this fight
.

I sighed. “Boxer, Sir.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled.

I looked at Ripp. He shrugged and motioned toward Kelsey with his eyes.

Kelsey folded his arms in front of his chest. “I haven’t got all fuckin’ night to argue. Are you a boxer or a god damned brawler?”

I cleared my throat. “Brawler, Sir.”

“Well quit fucking boxing, and get to brawling, you dumb little shit. And while you’re brawlin’, don’t forget the body, Spaz. It’ll wear her down and you’ll get a clear shot at that head of hers when she’s unable to defend it. The body first, always,” he said.

He turned and walked back toward the champ.

I glanced at Ripp. “Did you mean what you said the other day? That I was going to lose?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

I knew it.

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head, grinned his cheesy Mike Ripton grin, and raised my mouthpiece. “Show this bitch what’s it like to get in a real fight, Kid.”

Ding!

TWENTY-FOUR

Jaz

Day sixty.

I rushed to the center of the ring and swung a right hand to her stomach, then followed it up with a left hook to her ribs. Prepared for her to counterpunch with something significant, I clenched my jaw muscles and tucked my elbows in close.

She countered with an uppercut that fell short, and a right cross that didn’t.

Her straight right hand caught me on the chin and knocked me senseless for a split-second.

Fuck, you hit hard.

I swung a right hook toward her head. The punch was too low and glanced off her shoulder. She stepped back and raised her gloves in front of her face as if she was going to let me exhaust myself. It was a common tactic for a boxer to allow his or her opponent to swing wildly for a long period of time, which would wear them out from throwing repeated punches with no period of rest. Then, the person who was previously being hit could advance, fighting against an opponent who was tired and weak.

A great idea except for one thing. I didn’t get tired. Just like Kelsey said, I was a brawler. I would never win on finesse or beauty, but in my opinion, I’d never lose in an all-out fight.

I pounded her body and face hard with at least a dozen unanswered punches. I stepped back to get an idea of how she was going to react, and she came at me with a well-timed series of punches.

You’re a tough bitch, aren’t you?

I threw another combination of punches to her body and then her head, all in hopes of at least causing her to stumble.

Once again, she returned her own barrage of jabs, uppercuts, and hooks in response.

Jesus.

“Don’t forget the body, Spaz. It’ll wear her down and you’ll get that head of hers when she’s unable to defend it. The body first, always.”

I stepped in close and worked her body hard. No differently than when I worked the heavy bag, I punched against her muscled torso until my arms felt like rubber, and then I punched her some more. Her counterpunches bombarded me, hitting me in the shoulders, face, and mid-section, but I didn’t care. I was on a mission, and I wasn’t going to let her stop me.

This type of fight was what I lived for. All I needed to do was outlast her. We were in a brawl, and if she thought for one fucking minute that she could beat me at my own game, she was sadly mistaken.

I wanted a shot at a professional fight, and if she was my ticket to the show, I was going to either beat her in all out slug-fest or hang up my gloves. I continued to pound her body, just like Kelsey said.

She, in turn, pounded my face.

Eventually, her arms got tired and she lowered her gloves slightly. It was exactly the break I had been waiting for. I had no idea how long she was going to need to recover, but I wasn’t going to wait around and find out.

I swung a left hook into her ribs.

Exhausted from her non-stop attack on me, and from my two-dozen shots to her body, she folded up as soon as the punch impacted her stomach.

I swung a hard uppercut into the bottom of her chin, and she stumbled back a few steps.

I’m just getting started, and I’m not stopping until your ass in on your back, bitch.

I threw a hard overhand right that caught her right in the forehead, causing her to stumble even more.

Immediately, it was apparent that she was hurt.

Now fumbling to catch her footing, I knew if I could get in another hard power punch, I might be able to knock her down. She’d be humiliated if nothing else.

“Only throw your hard punches when you know you’re going to connect them. Don’t waste your power.”

I bobbed my head back and forth and shuffled closer, making myself an elusive target as I approached her. She regained her footing and swung a wild left hook and followed up with an uppercut.

I easily dodged both punches.

As her glove swung by my face, I pounded her mid-section with a hard left hand and waited. The punch hit her hard, and the breath shot from her lungs like a rocket.

I looked for an opening, and she provided it. With her elbows held loosely at her sides, I knew one more body shot should open her up for the kill.

Sorry, but you’re going to have to add one more loss to your record.

I swung a hard right hand into her stomach. Her gloves came down, completely exposing her face. It was a split-second opening, but my punches were lightning fast.

Everyone said the champion’s signature punch was a left hook, so I thought there was nothing better for me to try if he was still watching my fight.

I swung my left with every muscle that I’d spent a lifetime honing. The punch caught her square on the jaw, knocking her head to the side like she’d been hit by a car.

Her mouthpiece shot from her mouth and she fell to the mat.

Hard.

As the referee ran toward us, I bent at the waist and hovered over her.

“I’ve got a name, bitch. Jaz Briscoe, don’t fucking forget it,” I growled.

The referee directed me to my corner. I paced the edge of the ring without taking my eyes off of her. He looked into her eyes and asked her a few questions. She stared back at him, looking as if she was drunk. He shook his head and waved his hands over her. The fight was over, and I’d knocked her out.

It was surreal.

I would have sworn the crowd cheered, the heavens opened, and the flashes from cameras were going off.

But I knew better.

For an instant, I was numb. When I finally snapped back to reality I rushed to my corner. Once again, Ripp was dancing his victory dance, Ethan, pumping his fist, seemed almost as excited as me. I scanned the edge of the ring for Kelsey.

He was nowhere to be found.

Excited and glad it was over, I ran toward Ripp and spit out my mouthpiece. I opened my arms. “We did it!”

“
You
did it. Never doubted ya. There ain’t a fuckin’ girl on earth that’ll go toe to toe with you in a brawl. Kelsey and me been planning that deal for the last three weeks,” he said.

I shot him a look. “Planning it? Seriously? That was a set up?”

He grinned and nodded. “Sure was. We knew you’d kill her in a brawl. Hell, you train for three hours without tiring out. The other night, Kelsey told me to keep you in the ring for an hour and a half and see if you’d give up.”

I glared back at him. “Me? Give up?”

He shrugged. “We had to know. We just hoped you’d make it through the first round. Figured it’d take a round of boxing to you get good and mad at her. After seein’ you train, both of us knew you wouldn’t tire out, though.”

“You fuckers,” I said with a laugh. “Where is he? Where’s Kelsey?”

“He had shit to do. He ain’t much on celebratin’.”

The entire experience had me close to tears. I was disappointed that Kelsey didn’t care enough to stay, but still extremely pleased with winning. “Thanks for believing in me.”

“It’s easy to believe in a winner,” he said. “Now go congratulate the loser.”

I pulled my headgear and reluctantly walked to the other corner. Sitting down with her trainer and a medic, she looked pissed. I walked to her side, extended my right glove, and waited. After a moment, she extended hers.

I pounded mine into hers. “Jaz Briscoe, nice to meet ya.”

“Amy Wilson. God damn you hit hard,” she said.

I shot her a grin. “You too.”

“Good fight.”

“Good fight.”

I ran back to the corner, and when I got there, the champ was talking to Ripp. Respectfully, I stood at the ropes and waited for them to finish. The champ turned toward me and gave me a half-assed grin.

It was almost as if he seemed nervous, but I knew better. He made a fist and extended his hand through the ropes. “Shane Dekkar. Nice to meet you, Jaz.”

I pounded my glove into his fist. “Uhhm. Nice to…uhhm…meet you.”

“You’ve got one hell of a left hook,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you next week when you get time. About your future.”

Still speechless, I glanced at Ripp. He grinned and nodded. I looked at Ethan. He seemed to be on the verge of becoming emotional. I shifted my eyes back to the champ and swallowed hard. “My future, Sir?”

He chuckled. “Call me Dekk. And, yes, Ma’am. Your future.”

Still in shock from winning the fight, talking to the champion was almost enough to put me over the emotional edge. I muttered my response. “Uhhm…Okay.”

He reached up and pulled the hood over his head and grinned a humble grin. “Have Ripp bring you by. Any time.”

It was a hundred degrees outside. I wondered why he was wearing a hoodie, but didn’t dare ask. “I will. Thank you.”

“Again, nice to meet you,” he said.

I stood with my mouth agape. “Uhhm. Same here. Thank you, Dekk.”

He grinned and walked away, leaving me to wonder just what my future was going to entail.