“Ms. Grant?”
Ari turned at her name. A man she’d never seen before stood in front of them and smiled. He was handsome, with dark skin and deep brown eyes. Ari tried, and failed, to keep her eyes from his incredibly ripped biceps. “I’m Boyd. Davis was hoping you’d come.”
“I told him I would.” Ari caught Boyd’s glance at Oliver. “Oh, this is my friend, Oliver. I thought he’d enjoy the fights. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” he said. “Davis saved you some seats.”
“Oh, that’s not necess—”
“Thanks!” Oliver said, pushing past Ari. “Show us the way.”
Ari followed the men, half listening while Oliver peppered Boyd with questions about the fights.
“Each ring will have a series of preliminary fights for future events. Boxing is over there,” he pointed to a ring near the far wall. “Wrestling and martial arts are in those two.”
“What’s in the main one?” Oliver asked.
“The top two fighters from these two centers will be in that ring. It’s more of an ultimate-fighting method.”
“What does that mean?” Ari asked.
“You’ll see.”
Oliver jumped in. “So this happens often enough for them to have rankings.”
“Yep. Tonight is the finals. Each kid will only have three events, maximum. But the center-ring fight is the main event. Those boys will only have the one fight. They’re looking to win that.” Boyd pointed to a huge trophy near
an announcer’s booth, built into a loft area over the gym. Ari hadn’t noticed it thanks to the noise and crowd. She thought she saw Davis duck down, speaking to someone, and she had a feeling of déjà vu. But in her memory he was between her legs. Naked.
Oh boy.
“Here you go,” Boyd said, ushering them into a less crowded, center-row seat over the main ring. They had perfect views of the other rings as well. “Davis wanted you to know Curtis will be in an exhibition fight in ring three during the first round.”
“Already? Is he ready to do that?”
Boyd laughed. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”
“Thanks, man,” Oliver said, offering him his hand.
Ari also said, “Thank you.”
“No problem. Enjoy the contests.”
Ari and Oliver sat down. According to the scoreboard, the fight going on at that moment wasn’t a fight at all, but some kind of martial arts presentation. The boys completed their showing and bowed to one another, prompting the crowd to clap. Ari had no idea what to expect next, but she wasn’t exactly surprised when Davis appeared in the center ring with a microphone. He wasn’t in his standard T-shirt and jeans that night. Instead, he wore a crisp, black button-down shirt and black dress pants. Davis had that fit look achieved through intense workouts. Slim but built, his muscles pulled at the fabric of his shirt, even though it fit perfectly. Now that she knew what he looked like under those clothes, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Physically, he was perfect. It didn’t help that he excelled as a lover. She tried to focus on anything else. His hair was freshly shaved, the lights shining off his head. His smile genuine. His mouth…
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Davis began, interrupting her wandering mind. “We have several exciting fights this evening leading up to the main event between Jordan and Alvarez, ranked #6 and #2 in the region, respectively. Remember the proceeds from the tickets and concessions go back into our program so that we can continue to provide this opportunity to under-privileged youth all over the metro area. Please help us welcome our opponents from the city of Piedmont!”
The crowd cheered in welcome and Davis slipped out of the ring without notice. A loud bell rang and Ari’s attention focused on the teenage boys filing into the gym who had stopped to sit on benches around each of the rings. Peter followed them in, nodding to whom Ari suspected was the other coach. Although the boys wore warm-up suits, several immediately began removing them and revealing their team uniforms. The GYC boys wore white tanks with black, shiny shorts. The Piedmont team wore black tanks with red shorts.
“I’m still not convinced this is a good idea,” Ari said, watching Curtis remove his cover-up and lay it neatly on the bench.
“What’s the big deal?” Oliver asked. He had a mouthful of popcorn. “It’s organized sports—juvie style. You and I both know they’d never make it on a traditional team.”
“I guess,” she said, diverting her attention to the fight that was about to happen. Curtis had just lowered himself under the ropes and entered the ring. He had on his gloves and helmet. He was in the boxing arena, which sounded a lot better than ultimate fighting. “It just feels like some kind of forced situation. He didn’t really have a choice, and now he’s been tossed in the middle of the lion’s den.”
Ari had seen Curtis the prior week but she could have sworn he’d already gained some muscle. His long, thin arms seemed a tad bulkier and she pointed this out to Oliver as the boy jumped around the ring, moving his arms back and forth, warming up.
“Working out seven days a week for two weeks should make some changes,” he said. “Not to mention a healthy diet.” They watched the two boys, the other shorter, but thicker with short, curly blond hair, shake hands. The referee raised his hand and a buzzer sounded, starting the fight.