Page 119 of Forever Fighting
“No!” Adam shouts. “What the fuck?!”
Curtis shuffles backward toward the edge of the ring, his hands and arms up defensively, but he can’t stop Roman.
There are no ropes here. This isn’t professional boxing.
There is the line of the ring and the crowd beyond. This is also Fight Club rules, and they only call you out or stop the match when you’re on the ground. Curtis hits the line, and the announcer tells him he has to get back in the ring or he’s out.
Curtis sidesteps to his left while wildly throwing a punch to try to knock Roman off him. It doesn’t work. Roman doesn’t relent. He lands a hard jab to Curtis’s side, very likely cracking some ribs, judging by Curtis’s reaction, and Roman takes that, rears back with his right fist, and lets it fly. It lands straight into Curtis’s face beneath his eyes and against his already fractured nose.
It knocks his feet out from under him, and he drops to the ground in a heap of dead weight, his body hitting the ground with a bounce since he didn’t do anything to break his fall. It’s horrifying to see. The sound alone is enough to make someone’s stomach turn. But that’s it. It’s over. Match done.
Curtis is out, and Roman wins.
Somehow, Roman ripped a rabbit out of his hat and pulled off that victory. I have no clue how, but I don’t care. I tear myself away from Hayes and Forest and race straight toward Roman just as the announcer declares him the victor. He turns just in time, and I launch myself at him, pressing myself against his sweaty, banged-up, and bloody body.
“Oh my god! What the hell? What on earth just happened?” I pull back. He’s a total mess and can barely hold me. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
I get a crooked smile, and he dips to kiss me. Before our lipsmake contact, the sound of Adam losing his drunken mind pulls us apart. I twist to see Adam rampaging toward us.
“This is fucking bullshit!” he booms, his arms flying about. “No fucking way you just won that. This is a setup.”
Roman doesn’t reply. He simply shifts me until I’m tucked under his heavy, sweaty arm.
“You piece of shit!” Adam jabs his finger at him. “Do you know how much you just cost me? You’re going down for this. You have no clue. You’re going down, and then you’re going to die, and I’ll be watching the whole fucking time.”
“Bye, Adam.” With that, Roman walks us to the back room.
“You’re dead!” he calls after us but doesn’t give chase. “Your life is over!”
For a few minutes, it’s just us in here, and I help Roman up onto the table. I open my bag, moving quietly and methodically, my thoughts all over the place. This honestly might be one of the worst, most intense days I’ve had in I don’t even know how long.
Gloves snap onto my hands before I reach for his, pulling them out in front of him and removing the blood-saturated tape. His knuckles are an absolute mess, cut up and split in some places.
I can feel him watching me, and truthfully, I don’t want to look at his face yet.
“You can ask,” he says after a long, tense beat.
I shake my head, the after rush of endorphins hitting me hard and making me quake.
“Do you want to tell me why you’re mad at me then?”
A laugh bursts from me. “This so does not feel like the time for that.” I get the tape fully off and move on to his body. His left flank is purple with bruising. Gently, I press in on the spot, and he hisses in a breath and tenses.
“Are you short of breath?”
“No.”
“Roman, do me a fucking favor and take a deep breath in, and after you release it, then tell me that.”
He chuckles lightly, but I have no humor in me. “Yes, Nurse Fritz.”
“Do not try my patience,” I warn.
“Are you going to look at me?”
“Not yet.”
