Undeclared (The Woodlands) - By Jen Frederick Page 0,64
said this.
“Do you do any illegal fighting?” I asked, wanting to know everything I could.
“Is that what Mike told you?” I’d have to make sure that I always stood next to Mike when Noah was around. I could tell he was getting increasingly disgusted with Mike.
“He said something that hinted at it,” I mumbled.
“There is a lot of good money in unsanctioned events. They’re run by shady promoters but probably still legal. They’re just not approved by any of the mainstream management bodies. Then there are the underground fights. Those are all cash and you can pull in a few hundred every night, easy. Sometimes more,” Noah admitted.
“So yes?” I pressed.
“Have I? Yes. How do you think I’m going to fund this thing?” He waived his knife around the room.
“But if I or Bo could lend you some money—” I started and Noah interrupted.
“It’s not really as dangerous as you think. It’s rare that you ever fight someone who’s had any training. Usually the guy with the quicker fist or the stronger jaw wins. As a trained fighter going in, you can pick and choose what punch to take, to make the crowd excited, and then when to lay out your opponent. The likelihood of injury is low,” he said earnestly. It seemed important to him that I understood this and even supported it.
“What about other trained fighters, like you? It can’t be all inept people,” I objected.
“Mostly. A lot of underground fighters are like bored businessmen. Some of them are former big men on campus who’ve just gone to college or got a job and realized that all the high school glory doesn’t carry over. Sometimes you’ll meet up with another trained fighter, but rarely because there are more legitimate big money opportunities now with network contracts.” Noah went over to the strange contraptions, checked things and moved on, like he was executing a mental to do list.
“So why not just fight underground all the time?” I asked, still unconvinced.
“Not enough paying fights. It’s really random. Some guy has to find a place for us to fight and then you have to get three or so fights together to make it worthwhile. And, frankly, it’s getting harder and harder to find people willing to fight against me because I’ve been winning. We’re making less money on bets too, because the odds are low.”
It was all about the money for Noah.
“So you’re like a girl stripping to pay for law school only you’re fighting for money?” I asked.
This made him laugh. “I guess so. Never thought of it that way.” Noah set down his knife. “You don’t have to worry about me, Grace. I can take care of myself. Plus I’m trying to do only sanctioned events now.”
I bit back more dire warnings and instead asked, “Do you have any fights coming up?”
“No. I’m trying to get on the undercard for Vegas. There are some scouts from the UFC supposedly coming to a smoker in October.” Noah scooped up the rest of the berries and placed them in a cooler. After taking off his apron and hair protection, he came over to lean against the table next to me.
“And that is?”
“A smoker is an informal tournament. You’re mostly fighting members of your gym or maybe some other gym. Everyone uses protective gear. Most of those who attend will be other fighters, but it’d be okay if you come, if you want,” he offered.
“Um, sure.” I wasn’t sure I was ready to see Noah get punched or kicked. I didn’t think it would look good if I was cringing and flinching at every blow. “So what do you do now?”
“Train, study, loiter in the library in hopes that I run into this girl I’m crazy about,” he said with a sudden grin. He pulled off my hairnet and reached behind me to untie the knot in the apron, pulling my body lightly against his.
The statement and the contact made me both blush and smile. I tried to change the subject while inwardly hugging the words close. He’s crazy about me. “Grappling sounds kind of kinky,” I teased, turning the subject back to fighting.
Noah laughed. “Yeah, there was a big article in a magazine that said MMA was the gayest sport. A bunch of guys rolling around on the floor wrapping their arms and legs around each other in order to get the other person to submit. Also guys always try to grab your sack.”