Knocked Up by Love
Fight night is a circus. I hop from foot to foot, the satin of my shorts brushing against my thighs. I crane my head, trying to spot Paige and Honey in the crowd, but there are too many people.
“They’re in the front row,” Randy assures me.
I chew on my mouth guard. I want to see them. In fact, I want the fight to be over. I swear it’s the first time that I’ve ever felt this way. Usually I can’t wait to be in the ring, but all I can think of is the moment at the end when my arm is in the air because this time my family is ringside.
“Give them a good fight,” Randy tells me.
“It’s going to be over in thirty seconds. I don’t want Paige to see me getting hit. It might hurt her feelings.”
“Well, shit.” My trainer spits on the floor. “Best get down there and get ‘er done.” He slaps me on the back.
The noise in the arena is deafening. “Kick in the Door” by the legend himself starts booming, and that’s my cue to enter. I make the short walk into the ring where my opponent is waiting. He gives me a cocky chin nod and taps his finger to the bridge of his nose, which I guess means he thinks he’s going to knock me out in the first round. He said as much in the weigh in.
I turn away to see Paige and Honey sitting in the front row, not very far from my corner. Paige is standing on her chair with Honey’s arm around her. The two are beaming at me. God, what in the hell did I do to deserve a family like this? I blow a kiss to the two girls. A woman next to Honey dressed in a sparkly minidress glowers at my woman, who is blissfully unaware that half the females in the arena want to take her place.
“Ready, Bear?” Randy asks.
“Yeah. More than.”
He slides off my robe, and I walk to the center of the ring. The other guy bounces around a little, waving his arms in the air while the ref and I wait for him to stop showboating. He finally gets enough adulation and greets me with a hard slap of his wrapped hands across mine. I don’t roll my eyes, but inwardly, I sigh. This guy’s all talk and bravado. It’s almost too easy.
“Fight fair, guys,” says the ref before raising his arm in the air as an all clear. The bell rings, and the fight is on.
My opponent dances around, making air jabs while I stand in the center. Cheers and chants fill the air, which seems to energize the other fighter. He moves quicker, and his jabs get faster and longer, but he still keeps himself out of arm’s reach. I guess his goal is to tire me out by making me chase him, but the only person I’ve ever chased is standing at the edge of the ring with her hands against her mouth.
I wait until he makes one more full circle around me and then lash out with my planned sequence—left fist, left fist, and then the right. He dodges the first two jabs and walks right into the last one. My right connects with his jaw, and he crumples like one of Paige’s discarded art works. The noise in the arena is big enough to raise the roof.
The ref comes over and does the count, but my opponent isn’t getting up. His team rushes to his side and passes a vial of ammonia under his nose. He comes to and tries to get to his feet. “Fight’s not over,” he mumbles, shaking off his team.
“Stay down.” Ref pulls my arm in the air.
A couple of girls rush toward the ropes and throw their panties at me. I walk past that stuff and climb out of the ring straight for my family.
“That was so cool, Bear!” Paige screams. She can’t hear much because she’s got ear muffs on. “He went to sleep after one punch!”
“You did awesome, babe.” Honey rises up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek.
“I stink.” I try to lean away, but Honey’s not having it.
“You smell like sweat, and you know I like that.” She gives me an evil grin. My body roars to life. I’m already swimming in adrenaline, and her looking at me with fuck-me eyes is making me a little crazy.
“Let’s go home.”
She nods, a smug smile on her face. “Race you to the car.”
Epilogue
Honey
Many years later
I count the gift bags, making sure I have the right amount for the girls before I head back into the kitchen to check on the food. Bear made me hire a caterer this year when he saw my to-do list for Paige’s birthday party. My little girl is turning thirteen. I want her birthday to be perfect. I’m realizing thirteen-year-old girls can be the hardest critics. I might have gone a bit overboard with the gift bags, but I know Bear won’t care and Paige’s friends will love them.