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SunlitPromise — Feinting Spells 3-1
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Published: 2018-01-02 01:28:06 +0000 UTC; Views: 6105; Favourites: 105; Downloads: 21
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Mid October, That Year
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Rebecca leaned over the top rope of the cozy little gym’s boxing ring and looked out over the gathering crowd, trying a little too hard to relax. This would be fine like it always was. There’d be fights like always, money'd change hands like always, and life would go on, just like it always had.
Nothing to worry about
So why couldn't she shake the ominous feeling that tonight'd be the night when the disparate halves of her life violently collided? The thought gave her more than a little pause. The night was warm, a small blessing of the Southern California weather. Fall and winter didn’t really exist, not in any traditional sense. They were just slightly colder, slightly wetter than the seasons that’d preceded them
Only four fights tonight since one of the fighters had suddenly come down with a “sprained ankle” this week. She’d be paying her a personal visit. In any event she still had enough for a full card. No need to panic.
Keep breathing
The spectators milled about, mostly regulars she recognized. It was too late to stop now. She shrugged her shoulders, exhaled deeply, and muttered to herself.
Showtime
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“Shouldn’t you be backstage getting ready?” His voice genuinely concerned, surprised.
“Shouldn’t you shut the fuck up? This is my show, not yours. Now be a good boy and referee the fight like I told you,” was the strangely perky reply he received. Tim did as he was told while Rebecca slipped past him and into the middle of the ring. By now she’d stripped down to her turquoise sports bra and white spandex shorts in preparation for actually having to do some work tonight, eventually, but for now? She wanted nothing more than to play the MC role. She shifted her hips back and forth as the two first time fighters from her floor on the dorm walked forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, her voice reaching to the back corners of the room, “We got ourselves a grudge match! I wanna introduce Theresa and Jennifer: two ladies here for the first time, but hopefully not the last, am I right? These two are roommates who used to be best friends, but now they can't stand each other. But there's nothing like a good fight to make amends, right? We’re gonna let them fight four rounds, unless someone quits before that.”
The crowd murmured its interest. The first fight had been a tepid affair between two freshmen boys, a stocky ginger guy who’d suddenly lost interest in actually hurting his foe, and a slim ruddy science major who lacked the skill to actually do so, preferring instead to flail with reckless abandon. They threw limp punches and wrestled with other, spending most of the fight grappling for top position and throwing halfhearted punches on the mat. Rebecca found the whole ordeal embarrassing; college guys were supposed to be fiery, right? The ref had to restand them a few times; eventually one of them won, through sheer attrition, but it’d been a soggy blanket of a fight that certainly hadn’t built interest for the rest of the night. Neither of these two would get an invite back anytime soon. Hell, she might not let those two jokers in the door next month.
A grimace washed over Rebecca’s tanned face as she tried to put that fight in the past. Tonight needed to turn around, but she couldn’t directly do that; merely hope that the pieces fell into place. Had the other cards she’d put together been this… tenuous? Tonight felt shaky, ominous, uncertain.
“Alright ladies, time to settle this like women: it's go time!”
She motioned for Tim to actually move forward and do something; he wasn’t wearing the referee stripes because they were flattering. “We decided that as much as I’d like to, I shouldn't be your ref ‘cause I'm technically not a neutral party or whatever,” Rebecca admitted to the wide-eyed sophomores. Theresa kept pawing at the waistline of her shorts, as if they, and not her potbelly muffin top, were the issue. Jennifer was just a little better, with a body that almost suggested routine physical activity, but that was probably just a result of her obnoxious “gluten free” diet and yoga sessions. Rebecca hoped they at least put on a show and beat each other’s faces in or gave up fighting halfway through and jut decided to make out. Frankly, as long as it wasn't boring and they could stop arguing every five minutes in the dorm she didn't care how they settled it.
She just couldn’t afford a second consecutive snoozer.
”Ugh, my friends are such a hassle sometimes. With that said, Tim, can you do the honors?” Their ref stepped forward sheepishly, clearly still thinking about the dressing down she’d given him previously. Whatever, her job here was done, and he could handle the rest. Rebecca brushed her blonde hair out of her face after she hopped out of the ring and made conversation with the regular attenders as the bell rang to start the fight.
She still couldn’t shake this feeling that something was amiss tonight; the last thing she needed was to spot another of the promoters here, or any of Alan’s associates for that matter. Tonight just needed to go off without another hitch and she’d have good news for him and everyone else Tuesday night. She didn’t consider the alternative: she was Rebecca Meyers after all: her whole life she’d made the things she needed to happen, happen, from middle school in a rich Orange County, CA, suburb to her fourth year of college. Tonight’d be no different.
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The black girl in the red hoodie had come here tonight on a whim, but she was already glad she had. She’d arrived halfway through a fight so awful, so amateur that she almost left afterwards. The second fight had been a boxing match, where a curvy woman who looked surprisingly like her Chemistry lab partner trudged into the ring and fought a tall, thin woman with streaks of green in her brown hair. Simone had cheered loudly for Theresa and louder still when the chubby Filipina slugger put her foe on the canvas for good in the third round. Her lab partner didn’t have the body of an athlete, but with her curvy butt and thighs and ample boobs, maybe that was for the best. Simone wondered briefly, hoped she’d be that thick and curvy if she ever put on that much weight. Then she remembered that her mom would crucify and disown her if she ever got that far away from her fight weight and chuckled nervously at the thought. Simone had failed to convince the bartender that she’d merely forgotten her ID at her dorm and had to settle for a can of strawberry soda. Her mom, the former world champion boxer who was now the striking coach in her daughter’s blossoming MMA career, wouldn’t approve of that either, but hey, her mom wasn’t here now was she? Seeing Theresa reminded the black girl of their midterm next Thursday; inorganic chemistry had a way of normalizing the rest of her crazy life.
Simone Waterson stuffed her free hand into her jeans and hoped no one noticed her. Her black twists flowed down and out of her hood and she looked on with renewed interest at the action in the ring. The gym was modest, less robust than the one she trained at, but the boxing ring was front and center and had ample space for people to stand around it. MMA fights were a strange fit for a boxing ring she decided, mostly because of how often the walls of the cage factored into clinches and takedowns, how … annoying? tiring? uncomfortable it was having someone leaning on you, pushing you into the fence of the cage. It was a feeling she distinctly disliked, But that wall also meant you could lean back on it without falling back, falling over. She wondered if any of the remaining fighters would have a takedown heavy offense to take advantage of the boxing ring.
Her free hand found its way to the back of her neck; she missed fighting already. It hadn’t even been three weeks since her last fight, a rough and tumble affair she’d won after knocking a blonde grappler unconscious in round three. Her mom and her coach had laid into her after that, eager to point out the myriad mistakes she’d made throughout the fight and against inferior competition no less. She was thirsty for a real challenge, someone who was an actual threat to her, someone who could actually make a fight mean something. But for that she needed to get signed by a meaningful organization. And for that she needed an impressive record, and a highlight reel. And so fight she did, against basically whoever would agree to it, which currently meant up and coming prospects or regional fighters trying to make a name for themselves. Three fights, three young women left unconscious on the canvas.
She found herself floating away on myriad thoughts when the third fight was announced: two athletic young men, just about her height from the looks of it, were going to box.
Lightweight? Welterweight? She thought in MMA weight classes, none of the excessive junior or super distinctions that boxing organizations made. These two men looked like college students, fit and muscular and toned, and she thought the black guy was rather cute with light brown eyes and his hair a wild mop of twists on top his head with the sides of his hair cut short. His opponent was paler, slimmer, though not by much, and maybe a hair taller. They actually looked pretty well matched.
As the fight started, they poked and prodded at each other with jabs and straights. Simone cheered as that cute African American boxer suddenly landed a thudding left hook. She wondered if he and all the other fighters tonight went to the same Southern California university she did; it WAS just a few blocks away.
Whoever put this fight together seemed to have a done a good job of it.
She couldn’t’ help but compare these two, competent as they were, to the guys training at the gym her mom and uncle ran. Andre Collins wasn’t related to her by blood but had been so close to their family so long that calling him anything other than “uncle Dre” felt weird. His son, Cameron, was a monster compared to these two, though he was also technically an amateur fighter. Maybe he was just a monster in general. Maybe she was too. She turned the idea over in her mind like a glistening stone. They fought for enjoyment, for a hobby. 18 year old Cameron wanted to make it to the Olympics, while Simone already had aspirations of an MMA world title and knocking women senseless for fat checks; for now she contended herself on paying her tuition with her relatively meager earnings. Cameron would wanna get paid too once that Olympic boxing unpaid bullshit was over one way or another, she smirked
Cameron and she were a different breed entirely from everyone else here. So far at least.
She enjoyed watching these amateur fighters but they felt a world apart to the black woman standing there in the crowd.
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Rebecca sat on a bench in the dressing room backstage. She’d left Kelsey to handle the MC duties in her absence while Mary helped her with the last of her preparations. She felt strange, nervous perhaps.
“You know, I was thinking about how it I lose here, it'll get back to Alan and this whole enterprise falls apart underneath me. And then the school finds out and then…”
“Pienso que no” Mary retorted in her characteristic Spanglish. “You're worrying over nothing. This asshole has nothing for you. He's just made ‘cause you put his girlfriend on her back and made her happier than he ever has. You embarrassed her, now he feels like he has to do something about it. Show him he shoulda just kept his mouth shut.”
That brought a wry smile to Rebecca’s perpetually tanned face. No one could say she hadn’t taken this seriously, at least
I haven’t had desert since we agreed to this fight; this fucker better be worth my time.
she thought bitterly. Weight cuts were without a doubt her least favorite part of this entire process and she avoided them whenever possible. But Jeff had sounded so intense, so incensed, and certainly looked the part of a capable avenger. Rebecca couldn’t chance anything less than a convincing victory. She shot Mary a confident grin. She had this.
“So what’s the plan, Rebecca?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re supposed to be backstage here to help me. Or was you coaching Theresa to a win just a fluke?” She shot back playfully.
“Well, I’d be cautious out there till we know what he’s planning, but I mean, from what I saw he’s a high pressure high tempo kinda guy. He’ll be there for you. He’s hittable. Unload on him. Circle around and feed him that one-two combo. Get him moving, thinking, then get your hands on him, put him on his back, and give him more than he can handle.” Mary wanted to play to her friend’s strengths here especially.. “Use that top wrestling to make him hurt. Make his life miserable. Make him regret coming out here to pick a fight with you.
Rebecca was glad for the positive reinforcement. Tonight might actually end up being fun. More important was keeping everything she’d built so far intact. These kinda nights represented a sort of minor leagues for fighters like them; the monthly meetups Alan hosted were where the important, discerning clientele showed up. He had a peculiar way of finding out exactly what happened everywhere and inviting the kinds of fighters that discerning clients wanted to see. That meant entertainers, and more often than not, winners. Making a show of tonight would ensure Rebecca and the fighters she found kept getting calls to the shows where the real money was made. That meant tonight needed to go well.
Rebecca was already standing when Kelsey poked her head through the locker room door to let them know to come out. She strapped up her teal MMA gloves and strode purposefully to the ring.
It was time to settle this.
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When we last left off Jennifer and Theresa had settled things inside and outside the ring, as well as a budding love for boxing. While they walk back to their dorm we get to see the events of that night from a few different perspectives, particularly that of their enigmatic RA, Rebecca Meyers, who convinced them to settle their feud with their fists in the first place.
What's Rebecca's endgame here, and what kinda fight is getting herself into anyways? And will the disparate shards of her life collide as feared?
With that said, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter; it feels a little too much like telling, not showing, but it wasn't writing itself sitting there on my hard drive, and now that it's written we can keep the story moving forward.
Your questions and suggestions and observed logical inconsistencies are appreciated.
This art of Rebecca was provided by the one and only :iconChairman-of-VCWE: who did a great job working through her design with me. I asked for a lot and he delivered beautifully.
Till next time!
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Comments: 6
Man... earlier I didn't like Rebecca. But now, I REALLY don't like her. Great story and I loved Theresa's fight. She really came out ahead in the end, and probably learned something new.
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Haha,if you don't like Rebecca now, you REALLY won't like her by the end of this arc
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Thanks for the heads-up!
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Okay, first... I don't know how I pictured Rebecca, but this isn't it. I figured she'd be a beauty, but geez... now I really have to wonder about her motivations because that girl doesn't need to fight to make money.
In all seriousness, that's great work from Chairman-of-VCWE .
Now, a little note about your story environment... I think making the fight club co-ed gives it a more realistic feel. I had imagined it being all-women, but no... this is better. I had no real interest in that first fight, but I think the idea that this isn't limited to women makes it feel more like the gym vibe you were going for. A strictly female competition would have felt like some kind of private thing arranged for the well-to-do.
As for the story itself... Rebecca was equal parts accessible and mysterious in this chapter. Her fretting over the quality of the fights had a sort of Dana White feel to it (I hate that guy, but that's a story for a different time). She seemed to feel very responsible for putting the fights together, but also recognized she couldn't make them worth watching. The UFC has had some dud fights along the way, including a few headline matchups. The more high-profile the dud, the more agitated White gets. After all, that's money out of his pocket. Which brings up an interesting point: Rebecca obviously has a financial stake in this, beyond winning or losing her own fight. That's not shocking, but I think it's the first time we see real evidence of it. She's not just in charge of bringing in new blood. She's involved in making this club something marketable.
We also learn she's not at the top of the food chain. I suspected that would be the case, as well, but now we have this mysterious Alan that makes us certain of it.
Then, of course, we have Rebecca's enigmatic side. What's an OC girl doing in a place like this? And why is she so keyed up over her fight tonight? It all falls apart if she loses? What the heck?
And speaking of mysteries... what's Simone doing there? Something about her presence tells me this whole thing is about to go in a very different direction than I thought.
Oh, and we still have Theresa and Jennifer yet to go. So, while I can't say the idea of Rebecca's upcoming mixed fight thrills me, there's plenty to keep me interested as the story moves along.
On a side note, I saw what you said about this chapter being 'a little too much like telling, not showing.' Unfortunately, if you're going to dig into your story and your characters, there's no getting around that. Some chapters are going to be a little slow as you connect the dots, so to speak. I say that from experience, both as a writer and a reader. I could make a list a mile long of authors I enjoy, and the same thing would be true for almost all of them. Their first books weren't all that great. The good news is, it gets better. Once you get some developed characters, you'll be able to use their personalities to help you through the thick stuff. Have them be funny or emotional or whatever, and we'll be able to follow it easily because we'll know them better. You tried to do some of that here despite the fact that the characters are fairly new, and I thought it came off pretty well. So, don't sweat it.
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Haha, I'm ecstatic that a lot of what I wanted to do in this chapter apparently came through instead of being the enigmatic mush it felt like when I posted it. Yay!
And I can promise that we'll soon find out how Simone made her way to that gym, but I'm curious how her presence derails the direction you'd envisioned. Note me?
She's a tanned OC girl from a well to do family attending college in Southern California. Suffice it to say she doesn't do this (just) for the money. Rebecca (mostly) runs THESE events, but as the saying goes, "there's levels to this $#1%" and she knows the people who write her checks. The whole enterprise is mostly legal but she'd prefer her school and housing administration not know about what she encourages her residents to do one Friday a month.
An all women event has its own appeal but tonight they're just a bunch of amateur fighters, except the main event. And the history behind this admittedly unusual mixed fight will be revealed soon. Stay tuned and thanks for reading!
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It was definitely enigmatic, but far from mush.
Speaking of which, what you said in your comment has only made Rebecca MORE of a puzzle. But I'm tuned!
There was nothing mind-blowing about Simone's presence in this chapter. Obviously, I realized we had some of her story in the first chapter, then we have Rebecca and the undergound scene in the last two. So, you sort of had two disparate stories going, and, though I gathered they had to come together at some point, I wouldn't have thought it would start to happen so soon. But you're the one driving this bus. I'm just along for the ride.
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