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Naptime zeroes in on me and thrusts his fist in my direction. “Got something to say, pretty boy?”
“No, that’s impressive,” I deadpan.
The guy frowns as if he can’t tell if I’m making fun of him or not.
The corner of Matt’s mouth twitches. “Spicy. I like it.”
The next few names are so generic, I realize I shouldn’t have judged Naptime so fast—Rumbling Thunder, Snorting Bull, Powerful Pirate, Bear Trap, Hammer Fists. I guess mine’s not much more creative but at least it’s simple.
When it’s my turn, I nod to the other guys. “Stonewall— when my fists hit you, it’s like running into a stone wall.”
Naptime scoffs and rolls his eyes. Yeah, I guess I deserve that.
Another guy steps up, waving his arms around like he’s trying to scare away a flock of seagulls. “Deadass, cuz I ain’t fuckin’ around in the cage.”
“Bro, Deadass has a punchable face,” Venom whispers.
I bite my lip and nod.
A big guy with the squarest jaw I’ve ever seen and a perfectly round puff of white-blond curls raises his hand. If his arms and legs weren’t covered in the same white-blond fuzz, I’d assume he’d bleached his hair. “Woolly Mammoth.”
I would’ve guessed Merino Sheep, but okay.
“Because my fists will send you back to prehistoric times,” he finishes.
Are you sure, bud? I study Woolly’s face but there’s no hint of humor in his earnest expression.
Venom goes last. “I got my name from the joint locks and chokes I use to immobilize my opponent.”
So serious and specific. Assuming his background is in Brazilian jujitsu or aikido, I study him closer. His quiet, thoughtful approach should be scaring the shit out of these other guys. But they seem to dismiss him quickly. Must’ve never been put in a nerve hold. That shit hurts.
“That’s great,” Matt says, raising his voice over our chatter. “Do we all feel like we know each other better now? You’re going to be living and training together for weeks. So get comfortable with your housemates.”
Behind us there’s a clanging and shuffling. The whole group turns toward the sound. A guy behind a camera throws a hand signal to Matt.
“All right, gentlemen, we have a surprise for you.”
A deafening clickety-clacking echoes through the marble entryway.
Five women in short dresses and high heels strut into the room like they’re auditioning for a Vegas show. What the fuck?
“What’s going on?” Venom rumbles.
“Yeah, baby!” Deadass shouts, punching his fists in the air. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
I hope I square off against Deadass first. Can’t wait to wipe the floor with his obnoxious face.
“No cage or octagon is complete without the lovely ladies who hold up the placards,” Matt says with a cheesy grin.
Ring girls. I can’t even protest. We employ plenty of them at The Castle. But no one ever mentioned they’d be part of this show.
“And if a few of you happen to find love, won’t that be romantic?” Matt adds.
What. The. Fuck? This is so not what I signed up for.
“But the numbers are uneven, so you’ll be competing against each other in the ring. And outside the ring, you’ll compete for the ladies’…affection.” The emphasis he puts on that last word makes my skin crawl.
“I didn’t sign up to be a fuckin’ john,” Venom sneers. “This isn’t cool.”
