I’m screaming for Mason to get up, but Jones is already on top of him, raining down blows wherever Mason’s not guarding.
Behind me, Logan’s shouting, “Guillotine! Guillotine!”
Mason’s arm comes up a little, his elbow more pushing than striking Jones’s head. Jones is trying to pull his head back, but Mason’s arm closes around the other’s neck and he wraps his legs around the lower part of Jones’s upper body.
Jones’s flank is exposed and Mason slips his left hand from under his opponent and capitalizes on the moment with repeated punches to the ribs.
They’re in this position for more than a minute, and it’s not entirely clear who’s inflicting the most damage at any given moment. I’m sure I’ll never say this to Mason, but if I wasn’t so sure this had to be painful, it’d actually look pretty hot.
As it is, though, Jones finally manages to get out from Mason’s grip and it’s while he’s getting to his feet that I see it. Jones’s hand starts toward his right side, but he quickly redirects the motion.
He’s hurt.
That’s not stopping him, though, as he swings a wide kick, striking Mason in the shoulder. Jones’s foot’s not even completely down before he’s throwing up a follow-up punch and then another and then another, pushing Mason back as the latter tries to nullify as many of the blows as possible.
Mason catches Jones in the mouth with an upward elbow, but Jones leans back then lunges forward, taking Mason to the ground for the second time this round. This time, Mason’s struggling for position until the announcer shouts, “Round!”
Eventually, the two separate, but there’s a growing enmity between them. Mason jumps to his feet, but as soon as he’s back by me, Logan and Tom, he turns away and hunches forward a little.
He stands back up straight again, but continues facing the center of the ring. The reason he’s facing the center is, I’m pretty positive, the same reason he covered his mouth and nose when he started to laugh between the last two rounds: He doesn’t want to get any blood on the rest of us.
I’m a nurse, and I know for a fact that he’s clean, but I greatly appreciate the gesture all the same.
While Tom is tending to Mason, I lean forward, saying, “He’s hurt on his right side. It looks like around the area of the fourth rib—do you know where I’m talking about.”
Mason nods in front of me.
“He’s trying to hide it, but he’s favoring that side,” I tell him.
It’s a good thing Tom’s standing a little to one side, because I can see the little drops of red coming out with Mason’s words, “You sure? I didn’t see it.”
“He went to grab for it when you were getting to your feet the first time, but he moved his hand away like he didn’t want anyone to know,” I tell him.
“You sure you’re training to be a nurse?” Mason teases. “Why not come to the dark side? You can be my carnage coach.”
“Can you go after him there?” I ask.
“You bet your ass he can,” Logan says. “You know what you gotta do. Do it.”
Mason nods and the ref is getting the fighters’ attention.
That’s when it hits me.
I turn toward Logan. “If all the championship fights are happening right now, why are you here?” I ask. “Mason says you could handle yourself well against the pros? What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Logan answers, his eyes focused somewhere behind me.
“We’re both going to be a part of Mason’s life for a while,” I tell him. “We may as well get to know each other.”
It feels awkward the way I say it, but I don’t really know how to approach Logan about anything yet.
“I didn’t enter,” he says. “I told Mason I was winning matches so he’d keep his head in the game, but tournaments aren’t my thing. I’d rather support my boy.”
I can feel Logan’s body tense a little as I give him a quick hug, but he gives me a pat on the back before I’ve pulled away. “You’re a good friend,” I tell him. “Maybe we’ll have to have you over for dinner sometime.”
Logan shushes me.
I turn back around when I hear the announcer yelling, “Round four!”