Page 2 of Army
“I’m moving on. I’ll give it to you in Alina.” Army walked toward the entrance. “Have the fights started?”
“Yeah. They’ve gone through two matches so far. Why’re you done with Willow?” Eagle asked as he came behind Army.
“She wants to change our arrangement.” Army pushed open the doors.
“They always do, dude, so that’s why I only hookup with the club girls,” Chains said.
The sour scent of sweat and a wall of warm air greeted them as they walked into the medium-sized room. Rows of chairs filled with men and a few women framed the cage standing in the middle of the room. It was set high above the audience, where the two men punched, kicked, and drew blood inside of it. Jeers mixed with cheers surrounded them as the fighters went down on the floor, writhing and grunting loudly.
“Here we are,” Army said, pointing to a row close to the ring.
“When’s Taylor on?” Goldie asked as he took his seat.
“The ring girls are fuckin’ hot,” Crow said, sliding into the row.
“Does your brother know any of them? Maybe we can party with them after the fights,” Eagle said.
“He probably does. I’ll ask him. I could go for the dark-haired one with the Daisy Dukes. Fuck, I love a woman in short shorts.” Army sat down and shrugged off his jacket, then he uncrumpled the schedule and looked at it. “Taylor’s the fourth one. He’s won his last five matches, so I hope he nails this fucker’s ass too.” He turned to face his brothers and added, “Two recruiters are here looking for fighters to go pro, and I think Taylor’s got a real good chance. It’d be fuckin’ awesome for him.”
“He’s a damn good fighter, bro,” Sangre said as Paco and Steel nodded in agreement.
“He deserves to go pro,” Cueball said. “He works so damn hard. When I came by here a couple of weeks ago, I asked if he wanted to shoot some pool and have a few beers at Harry’s Hall, but he said he was in training and he had to go to the gym and wasn’t gonna drink until after the fight. I was fuckin’ impressed. To pass up beer? Damn … that’s discipline.” He motioned over a woman with a bright orange strap over her shoulders and a vending tray in front of her filled with cups of beer. Then he held up four fingers.
“Twenty dollars,” the woman said, smiling widely at Army. Cueball handed her a twenty and passed two beers to Army, then took the other two for himself. “Thank you.” The usherette’s gaze lingered on Army then she licked her lips and looked at Eagle, who yelled out his order.
“Thanks, bro,” Army said to Cueball as he brought one of the cups to his lips. He watched the woman as she handed glasses of beer to Eagle and the others. The woman looked hot in her uniform, which consisted of tight spandex shorts and a low-cut blouse, and he knew all he had to do was give her a wink and they’d be tearing up the sheets later that night. She glanced over at him and bit the corner of her mouth, but he looked away; he’d promised Taylor that they’d hang out.
The bell rang and the fighter in bright yellow shorts held up his arms in victory as blood streamed down his face. “And ‘Torturer’ does it again!” the ring announcer yelled. “Elio Sandoval is hot right now. This is his seventh win in a row.”
“Has Taylor fought that dude?” Cueball asked.
“No. He’s in the heavyweight division. Taylor’s middleweight.” Army motioned for the beer girl to come over.
She winked at him and rushed over, leaning in deeply to show off her stunning cleavage. For a split second, Army debated on whether he should fuck her later that night, but decided that he could catch her the next time he came up to see Taylor fight.
“What’ll you have, sugar?”
“She didn’t callmesugar,” Cueball said under his breath.
“Because you don’t have my blue eyes,” Army said as he held up two fingers. Women were always complimenting him on his gunmetal blue eyes. “Brown eyes are damn boring.”
“Fuck you,” Cueball said, taking the cup Army handed him.
Sangre nudged Army’s side. “Taylor’s up next.”
A rush of adrenaline surged through him as the announcer stood in the middle of the ring. He saw his brother seated on a stool in the right corner as two muscular men hovered over him, most likely giving Taylor last minute pep talks and instructions. Then Taylor rose to his feet and moved to the middle of the ring, meeting his opponent with a scowl etched across his brow.
Fuckin’ nail him.Army perched on the edge of the chair, his left hand gripping the metal corner of the seat. Taylor’s opponent was a stocky guy, a couple of inches shorter than him. Army didn’t think he looked any more or less muscular than Taylor, but anything could happen at a mixed martial arts match.
The bell rang. “Fuck,” Army whispered under his breath as he watched his brother and Calvin “Destroyer” Hemsley assess each other. Suddenly, red and green gloved fists threw punches: fast and hard, over and over.
“Taylor’s gonna own this fucker,” Eagle said, his eyes fixed on the two fighters.
Before Army could agree, Taylor’s fist connected with a right punch behind Destroyer’s ear and it was done; he’d knocked out his opponent in the first round. The crowd went wild and Army leapt to his feet, screaming out his brother’s name as his chest swelled.
“Mayhem takes the win!” the ring announcer yelled.
“That was so fuckin’ awesome!” Paco said, clasping Army’s shoulder.
