AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 3 Guillotine Choke
Mila (Twenty-four years old)
"I'm taking Milana to a get together at Renzo's summer house tonight." My brother Donnie announces this at the end of dinner with my dad at our beach house in the Hamptons. Donnie didn't ask me about this before.
My dad looks from me to Donnie then nods his approval. He likes it when I spend time with Renzo. He has this crazy idea that I'm going to fall in love with him and marry him. It'll never happen, but my dad never gives up hope. "Be back at a decent hour." He takes his napkin from his lap as he stands. "Invite more people to the fundraiser this weekend," he says to me.
"I've already sent out the invites," I reply. "And there's a storm off the coast, I might have to cancel it."
"We're not cancelling it. Those storms never hit where they say they will. Invite more people. Preferably rich ones who'll donate a ton of money." He places his napkin next to his plate and walks out.
"What the heck, Donnie? Why did you spring that on me in front of Dad?"
"I wanted you to say yes."
"I might have said yes if you asked me privately."
"No you wouldn't. You don't like Renzo or his friends."
"Still. You should have asked me."
He holds up his hand for me to stop talking and leans in across the table. "Don't tell Dad. We're not going to Renzo's place," he whispers.
"We're not? Where are we going?"
"Secret underground fight."
"What? Like a fight club?"
He nods. "Something like that. You interested?"
Actually, I've always liked watching MMA fights on TV and always wondered what goes on at those secret clubs. "Yes," I whisper back. Donnie and I haven't done anything fun together lately and I like that he's making the effort. "Thanks for inviting me."
He grins. "No problem. Go get ready and we'll leave at eight."
"Okay."
***
The fight club ends up being in an abandoned firehouse in the Bronx. There's a pretty big crowd and we're packed in shoulder-to-shoulder watching two fighters in a makeshift ring in the middle of the room. The "undefeated,Unstoppable Foster Dunham" is facing off against Cicero, a big guy who looks like a concrete block wrapped in skin.
Before the fight started, Foster bounded into the ring and the crowd cheered. An intimidating sea serpent tattoo shined on his meticulously sculpted back. Silky white boxing shorts showed off his eight-pack abs, and his piercing light eyes drew everyone to his side.
After two rounds, he's covered in blood and taking a brutal beating. The crowd has turned on him and they're rooting for Cicero now. I don't even know Foster, but I hate that he's losing.
Cicero has two guys over in his corner. Foster has no one.
There's no one in Foster's corner. Not one person. He's bleeding from a cut above his eye, and there's nobody there to take care of it.
Seriously. Why doesn't he have someone to help him?
Foster presses a towel to the gash over his right eye and leans his head back.
He takes a quick sip of water and inserts his mouthpiece, stretching his beautiful lips into a grimace. The referee checks on him and he nods.
The ring girl walks around with the "3" card and the bell sounds. The fighters meet in the middle, and I inhale a deep breath. They circle each other for four minutes, the anticipation increasing as the seconds tick by. The cut overFoster's eye bleeds onto the mat. Grumbles and disgruntled calls erupt from the crowded room. Fans want more blood, not circling and dancing.
With only one minute left in the round, the announcer's voice amps up ten notches with the flurry of action in the ring. "Cicero lands a right hook to the temple."
