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No. Don’t say that. It’ll sound like the whining of a bitter loser.
Chin up.
“I feel good.” I force a pained smile. Blood and sweat sting my eyes and blur my vision. “I fought hard. Naptime was a strong opponent.” And also a dirty fucking cheater. I glance over my shoulder. “I guess when he wakes up from his nap you can ask him what he thinks.”
Matt’s jaw drops and I take that moment to walk away. If he’d put the mic in my hand, I’d throw it at his feet. I’m out and don’t give a fuck if he’s done with his asinine questions or not.
Venom meets me at the cage door. My body sways to the side as I step down. Huh. Those steps didn’t seem so wobbly when I went into the cage.
I plant my feet on the concrete floor of the arena, but the wobbliness doesn’t go away. Is this place built above a train station or something?
“You all right, bud?” Venom frowns and peers into my eyes.
“Fine.”
His frown deepens.
“Split decision. Utter bullshit,” Venom mutters. “You clearly had the better moves. You landed double the hits. You dominated him on the ground. He tried to flop away like an eel.” He shakes his head. “This is how they wanted it to go.”
That’s my gut feeling too, but I’m a little too close to the matter to be objective.
“What the fuck?” Bear Trap yells, running up to us but staring at the commotion still going on inside the cage. “There’s no way he won. Zero. None. The fuck is wrong with those judges?”
“Let it go,” I mumble. There’s nothing I hate more than a sore loser. The judges gave the fight to Naptime. I refuse to argue or complain. It won’t change the outcome. It’ll only make me look like a whiner.
Underhill’s voice booms through the crowd. We turn in time to catch him shoving the ref against the cage wall.
Apparently other people have no problem arguing about the result. Heh. Who knew Underhill cared about me that much?
As the adrenaline slowly leaks from my body, pain races in to replace it. Confusion scatters my thoughts. Blood drips from my chin, rolling down my chest.
“Stonewall?” Venom shouts. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
Underhill’s somehow next to me again. He wraps a thick arm around my waist, holding me up. “Let’s get him checked out. He needs stitches.”
“On my face?” I mutter.
“Yeah, you’ll still be pretty. Don’t worry.” Harsh laughter brushes close to my ear. “You fucked Naptime up good. He’s still out cold.”
“Then how is he the winner?” Venom shouts.
“Don’t get me started,” Underhill seethes.
I dig deep but can’t find any compassion for Naptime’s condition. “He fought dirty,” I mumble.
“Yeah. I saw the fake tap out,” Underhill says.
At least I’m not crazy.
Anger roughens the coach’s voice. “Ref blew that one.”
Two paramedics with a stretcher rush into the cage. My gaze follows them for a few seconds. Maybe a ride on one of those things wouldn’t be so bad.
“He’s gonna need some painkillers tomorrow,” Bear Trap mutters.
Huh. When’d he get here?
