“Wow.” Lance shook his head. “Gayle really has done wonders for you.”
“Gayle has done a lot, but it’s not been all her. It’s being back in Kansas and having you all up in my grill. Nobody else does that kind of shit to me, Lance, just you. If you hadn’t decided to be a lying, sneaky bastard, I’d still be in my apartment in Atlanta haunted by the past.” He pulled his friend forward and beat a fist against his shoulder blade in a bro hug. “I love ya, man.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Feeling’s mutual,” Lance muttered as he returned a couple of thumps to Mac’s back.
They broke apart, and Mac studied his friend. “I don’t guess your money situation…” He let his sentence trail off, hating himself for even bringing it up, but he hoped the reason his friend had been so adamant on not accepting any financial help was because he didn’t really need it.
Lance gave a weary smile, but there wasn’t any resentment at him for bringing up the topic. “I wish I’d been faking that, too, buddy, but no, I still owe a shitload of money. And I’m still banking on getting into CMC to help.” He cleared his throat. “But enough of this heart-to-heart shit. Go out there and kick Ragin’s ass.”
Mac nodded as he popped in his mouth guard. After going out the back entrance, he followed a roped-off area that led to the cage. A guy in jeans stood in the middle with a microphone. As Mac started passing people, the whispers started. Multiple, “Holy shit. Did you see who that was?” and, “Fucking-A! It’s Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon!” made him smile. His tattoos made him easily recognizable to any fan of CMC.
He jogged up the stairs and through the cage’s door. He scanned the area for Gayle and found her sitting in the front row—something he’d made sure would happen as soon as Trent agreed to let him and Ragin fight. What he didn’t expect to see was some motherfucker sitting next to her hitting on her hardcore. She was not encouraging the attention. If anything, she was discouraging him, but the asshole wouldn’t take the hint. As he laid a hand on her knee, which she smacked away, Mac started for the exit. Lance held up his hand to stop him. His best friend walked over to the man, squeezed his shoulder roughly, and said something in the fucker’s ear. He beat a hasty retreat and Lance took the empty seat. The tension eased out of Mac.
“We have a special treat for you guys and gals tonight! Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon is in the house.” The place went nuts. “He’s agreed to fight the well-respected and fucking awesome, Ragin Coolier.” Wild applause and screaming roared around them as the announcer turned to them. “You guys know the rules, go fight.” He left the cage.
Not used to the casual introduction, Mac shook his head. Ragin raised his arm and Mac tapped his glove to the other fighter’s, showing his respect. Then the fight was on.
Until that very second, he hadn’t realized how much of a disadvantage he was really at. Usually he spent weeks to months preparing for a fight, which included studying his opponent. He had no idea what Ragin’s strengths or weaknesses were, what he could use to his advantage, or what could be used against him. This was a blind fight…and it energized the hell out of him.
He threw the first jab, catching Ragin on the cheek. The hit seemed to light a fire under the old man, as well, and he returned the favor. The next two minutes were an all-out brawl. There weren’t any clenches against the cage, no knees, no kicks. The fight stayed in the middle of the canvas and consisted of two men punching the ever-loving shit out of each other. Blows were given with so much strength the impact cracked loudly, making the crowd cringe and yell, “Ohhh!” A few shots were missed, others dodged. By the end of the first round, Mac was covered in sweat and was blinking blood out of his right eye. Ragin didn’t look any better, with a gash opened up across the bridge of his nose.
One thing was for fucking sure, his old buddy still had one hell of a punch. Lance came up in the cage, while a couple of guys from another team helped stop the blood from the cut on his brow and give him water.
“You should hear Gayle squealing. It’s fucking hilarious.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Flinching, slapping her hands to her face, muttering ‘crazy idiot,’ the whole nine yards.”
Mac gave a pained laugh. “The woman can walk into the eye of a tornado without blinking, but can’t watch the man she’s sleeping with take a punch? Who’da thought?”