A minute or so later, I saw Nick near the ring taking off his shirt to jump only in his dark-grey shorts. On the other side stood his opponent, wearing black. The referee called them into the ring and a wave of nausea passed through me.
His opponent was a few inches taller, but Nick looked slightly bulkier. The fight started, and unlike the other fighters I've seen Nick's opponent lunched for his legs at first, trying to grab him down, but Nick didn't let him. Nick tried to knee him, but the other guy jumped away. After that, there were successive quick throws of punches and kicks, but Nick seemed to guard himself well. The other guy managed to kick him in the ribs, and he stumbled a bit after recovering.
"That's not good," Tyler mumbled, and I asked him to explain. "He's distracted." He seemed focused to me though.
"Focus Nick! What are you doing? Put your head back in the game! Come on!" Tyler's loud voice echoed over the cheers of the audience.
Nick shook his head, and something shifted in him. He seemed more controlled, more calculative. And sure enough, when his opponent lowered his guard to punch him, Nick took the opportunity to land a high kick on the side of his face. The guy stumbled backward, landing on the mat, and Nick jumped at him, punching until the referee pushed Nick away and helped the other fighter up.
"That's it, man!" Tyler shouted.
"The other guy recovered, and the next round started. This time, however, Nick didn't give him a chance he jumped and turned to kick once again his opponent's face, this time on the other side. Once again, he found the mat, but this time Nick didn't go for more damage. People were applauding, shouting, and laughing. After a few seconds, the referee decided there were no conditions to continue the fight, and Nick was declared the winner.
Relief washed over me, and I couldn't help but hug Tyler. "That was amazing!"
He laughed, "And yet you put him in the ground the first day we met." I blushed, remembering what happened that day, how he took my arm, and I used the little I knew about self-defense to force him to kneel. I felt strong back then, not realizing he could have destroyed me if wanted to. How arrogant of me.
Nick approached, sweat dripping from the strands of hair that were almost touching his eyes. My heart jumped at the sight and I jumped with him, grabbing Nick's neck and pulling him in for a hug. He didn't hug me back, his hands simply hovering over me.
"You did it! You won! And without a scratch for that matter!" I held him tighter and he let out a painful grunt. I let go to find him smiling, a real full smile.
"Not without a scratch. That kick is going to let me sore for days," he said, holding his ribs.
Tyler came next to him and patted his back, scolding him for not being focused enough and going through all the mistakes he made. I guess he was his coach.
"So why do you do this?" I couldn't help but ask once the energy went down. Hoping not to get the whole "None of your business" reply.
"It pays well," Nick simply stated, and it was Noah who asked the next logical question.
"Why do you need money? I mean, don't get me wrong, and you don't have to answer, but I thought your dad had lots of money."
Nick let out a snicker. "My dad is, I'm not. This money is for me to spend the way I wanted, without having to give him any explanations."
"Then why not get a part-time? Something less... dangerous?" I added.
"I need the money fast." He let out a deep sigh. "Let's go eat something and I'll tell you all about it."
We drove to Taco Bell, ordered food but cramped in Tyler's car to eat. I didn't want to press Nick to talk so I focused on eating my nachos. Always aware of his movements, I felt Nick shifting in the front seat.
"There was a fire a couple of years ago at my grandmother's house," Nick spoke for the first time after we left the warehouse. "Thankfully, she didn't get hurt and only a side of the house was destroyed. Unfortunately, the assholes of the insurance company claimed the smoke alarm was not working and so they didn't cover the losses. My grans had to take a mortgage to repair the damages. Between her meds, healthcare, and all that shit, it got tough on her. She's old and I don't want her to have to worry about debts."
"Can't your father help?" I asked.
"No. He can't." He simply stated. "There's this underground MMA tournament, the farther you go in the competition the more you get paid, but you always get paid no matter if you lose the fight. It's a quick way to get the money she needs, and if I win, I'll get enough to pay back what's left. I started last year, but only reached the quarterfinals. Still got good money out of it, but this year is different, just two fights left and she's free."
I didn't expect that. I placed my hand over his shoulder as if to say I was sorry for what had happened, took it away quickly, knowing that he wouldn't like for us to pity him. He had made a big step in our direction, let down his walls, and allowed us in. I wanted to tell him that he did the right thing, that he could trust us, and that we would never leave him. But I stopped myself from saying those words, still wondering who had abandoned him, who had hurt him.
We left the conversation at that and Tyler quickly took over to lighten the mood. He told us, better yet commanded us to go to a party next week to celebrate Nick's victory. I cringed when I thought I had to ask my parents' permission. They would probably let me go, but I can imagine already the whole movie my mother is going to create in her head and the consequent awkward conversation about alcohol, drugs, sex, and how I should be careful.
The first and last time I went to a party she almost had a stroke from all of the excitement of seeing her damaged daughter doing what normal teenagers did. Parties are not really my scene though; too many people cramped in one place and too much noise. But I might as well give it another shot. Things might have changed; I know I did. But yeah, she was definitely going to lose it.
"I want to meet these new friends of yours," she told me. "Really meet them, make sure they're no trouble. They must be important to make my social butterfly go to a party," she added, full of sarcasm. "Tell them to come by tomorrow and have lunch with us. It'll be barbeque Sunday. Your father invited some friends over, so you don't need to worry about us being on your backs."
"Fine, I'll ask." And I did, hoping they would have better things to do, other appointments, or simply say no.
YOU ARE READING
Rock, Paper, Scissors
Teen Fiction"Friendship is not about who you've known from the longest or who you hang out with, it's about who walked into your life, said 'Hey, I'm here for you' and proved it. My friends proved it." Everyone has secrets and Julie has one that has been eating...
