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I take a look around as we head over to the scales, my eyes quickly landing on Josh Hens. He’s leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, waiting to be weighed.And by the time I strip down to my fight shorts, he’s heading onto the scale.
“That your guy?” Adão asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
Josh weighs in at 169 pounds, coming in under the upper limit of 170 for the welterweight class. He then flexes his arms in an obnoxious pose for the camera with a forced scowl on his face.
Luca snorts beside me. “He looks fun.”
Max shoves Luca forward. “Go.”
As Luca steps on the scale, I eye his opponent. Brad Eastin is standing at the side of the room talking with someone. Luca has the height advantage, and I suspect after gaining some weight back by tomorrow he’ll also have the weight advantage. He watches Luca as he makes weight for welterweight and gives him a courteous nod.
“Ty, you’re up.” Max pats my back.
I step onto the scale, and even though I know I’m good, I stare at the numbers as the official slides the weight along the beam.
“167.” The official nods to me, and I blow out a breath, nodding back to him.
Max hands me a bottle of water as I make it back to them, and I immediately open the cap to take a drink.
Fuck, that’s good.
“Ty Roscoe.”
I turn around to see Josh Hens standing behind me.
I give him a nod as I swallow my water.
“Should be a good fight tomorrow,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’ve been studying you.”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod, “same.”
He adopts a sly smile. “Really helps to know your opponent’s weaknesses, doesn’t it?”
I huff out a breath of amusement. Does he think this is intimidating? “That it does.”
He gives me a look up and down with a slight tilt of his head. “Well. See you tomorrow.” He then turns, and leaves.
“What the fuck, was that supposed to be his trash talk?” Luca asks, staring after him. “He should really work on that. Everyone knows that if you’re going to talk smack, you have to commit. Hit where it hurts. That was just more annoying than anything.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Who knew someone could be almost as annoying as you.”
Before Luca can respond to that, Max says, “He’s a fucking idiot. Just focus on the fight and ignore his ego.”
I nod. “Already done. I’ll deal with it all in the cage tomorrow. Let’s go.”
FORTY-ONE
“We should watch a movie,” I say through a bite of pasta.
Ty just nods slowly, taking a drink of his coconut water. “Hm.”
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him as he sits on the other bed in our hotel room. “It’s 7:00. Are you just planning to sit in silence while you eat and hydrate for the next few hours? Is this the Ty Roscoe way? Do you, like, meditate or some shit?”
He rolls his eyes, taking a bite of his boring ass chicken and vegetables. “No. But your movies are fucking weird.”
A smile spreads across my face. “Oh, but Tyler. I have an epic fight movie for us to watch.”
