Seth Vaughn had never seen anyone so beautiful. She was in the fifth row or maybe the sixth or seventh...it didn't matter for she was captivating. Clad in red, and smiling...seemingly at him.
"You here...Hello!" Seth looked at his trainer, Pops McKensie who was yelling in his face. He used to train boxers, but as time passed, Pops saw the writing on the wall, and started dealing with martial arts. Soon he became well known for training MMA fighters. He "retired" from training for five years to run a gym, but when he saw Seth walk into his gym two years ago, Pops decided this kid was worth coming out of retirement for.
"I hear you Pops"
Pops looked at Seth skeptically. "Boy, you better be here...this guy will kill you with a look if you aren't careful" Pops instructed. Seth listened intently, the girl out of his mind...for now. "...work his body, and keep him out of reach with your left jab. Work him, and keep it standing, he will maul you on the ground"
"Got it Pops,"
"Last round kid," Pops said looking him in the eyes. "You are probably up in points after knocking him down the last round, but don't get cocky. You are undefeated, keep it that fucking way,"
Pops and his second Mickey Khan got the stool and got out of the cage. Mickey looked at him. "Say, end this shit quick," he shouted. "I'm fucking hungry,"
Seth laughed slightly, and hopped up and down staying loose. He played with his mouthpiece a bit with his tongue; a strange habit he had. He looked across the cage. Seth's opponent was Steve
Skull Crusher
Smith a ten-year MMA vet, who had a tendency to be gassed by the third round. While he lacked cardio and outweighed Seth by twenty pounds, Smith was just as quick as Seth. He looked back at Seth, and Seth saw it...something he had been waiting for...the look.
The look of defeat.
Seth smiled.
"You ready?" the ref looked at Smith who looked back, nodded, looked back at Seth before quickly dropping his eyes to the canvas. Seth appraised him, and saw his gut moving in and out. He was gassed.
"You ready?" the ref asked Seth.
"Fuck yeah," Seth said through his mouthpiece. The ref just saw his lips move, which was enough for him. He signaled for the bell.
As usual, Seth danced around cautiously. The first two rounds, Smith came to him, however this time around, the veteran kept his distance. Seth came closer, and sent a sharp kick to Smith's midsection. He'd hit it about five times each round, carefully placing his shin right on or just below his rib cage. This time, hitting the reddened area caused Smith to visibly wince, and cover up, which allowed Seth a chance to hit him with two left jabs and followed by a straight right to the head.
Smith moved away, his nose and a cut just under his right eye were bleeding slowly. He was breathing heavy; his mouth was open and his hands were low. However, Seth knew better than to just go in, for Pops taught him a wounded animal is a dangerous one.
Seth covered up and feigned a right cross, while shooting a left hook to the Skull Crusher's bruised mid section. Smith winced again, covered up, and Seth hit him with another two jab, straight right combo to the head. Smith feebly tossed a wild right cross. Seth leaned back, laughed and kicked him in the face.
Smith stumbled back, the crowd on its feet. For a second, Seth lost focus, and glanced at the chick. The hot chick in red. She was cheering for him, jumping up and down, her boobs bouncing freely.
Damn she was so fucking sex-
The right hit him, and Seth's whole head turned. He fell to the ground, the sounds around him seemed garbled and far away. Even his body as it hit the canvas seemed far away. He felt Smith hit him once, as his head hit the canvas. That hit woke him up, and he covered up. Smith reared up again for a second blow, and Seth saw how slow he was moving. He twisted slightly, his senses coming back to him, and hit Smith with a straight left. His head snapped back, and Seth sent a quick knee shot to Smith's wounded right side, and Smith cried out.
He fell back on his feet and hands, and tried to scramble back, hoping the cage would help him get his senses back. Seth got up, and rushed him with a knee striking the backwards-moving man in the temple. Smith's head fell back, his body a foot or so from the cage. Seth dropped a vicious elbow on his head, and Smith's eyes glazed over. Seth smiled, and leaned in and wrapped his right bicep around Smith's head and neck. Smith tried to struggle, but Seth used a hammer fist to silence his discontent, before he tightened his grip. Smith reached and tried to get an inch to between his neck and Seth's meaty arms, but his attempt was in vain, as Seth went in for the kill.
Smith's face went from tan, to red, to purple. He weakly tapped Seth's arm, and the ref rang the bell. Seth immediately let go, and stood up pushing Smith's semi conscious body off of him. He looked at the crowd pointed at them all, running in a circle around the cage to show his appreciation, before he bowed.
Moments later the ring announcer declared Seth the victor while the ref raised his arm in victory. He went to the cage door, and waved. Pops was looking at him, with both a smirk and a frown, how he did that Seth never knew. Seth sheepishly grinned back, before stepping into his flip-flops. He put on his gi, with Mickey Khan's help. They moved up the aisle, the fans showing Seth love. He shook hands and gave high fives, genuinely happy folks paid money to see him. Yet his eyes danced around the crown, seeking, searching, and there she was.
She was at the last spot before the aisle began to steep downwards to the locker rooms. She was smiling. Seth smiled back. She waved and Seth reached out for her. He began to pull her to him, but security began to come close to him. "What is your name?"
"Bonita," she said, her voice sounding like angels in his ear. "Bonita Benavidez,"
Seth smiled at her. "I will find you Bonita Benavidez!" he yelled as security began to herd him into the locker area.
"Not if I find you first Seth Vaughn!" she yelled blowing him a kiss.
**************************************************************
"What the fuck Seth," a statuesque blond said in the dressing room. She was smoking a thin cigar. "You tryin' to give me a fucking heart attack?"
"Boy, if he was fresher, he would have finished you," Pops said.
Seth looked at them both. "Relax," he replied. "I won the fight,"
The blond looked at him. "Yeah asshole you won clap, clap clap, but you gotta win impressively,"
Her name was Scarlett Covington, and she was his manager. She was built like a comic book heroine; long thick natural blond hair, full pouty lips, a rack Dolly Parton would be proud of as well as a perfect ass seemingly carved lovingly and patiently out of stone. For some reason after college, Scarlett felt the need to invest her inheritance,
and
use her MBA. So she invested in Pops gym βinitially for the sweaty male view- but soon, on Pop' recommendation became Seth's manager once Pops convinced her Seth was the real deal. The fight he'd just won, Scarlett set up, and was his biggest payday to date. She was savvy, articulate clever and sexy. Scarlett was the ultimate chick; she could outthink a college professor, cuss like a sailor if the need arises. Scarlett could play the ditsy blond just enough to close a deal, and according to legend, fuck a grown man to the point of tears.
Seth wouldn't know about the last one; he did not mix money and pussy. A belief Scarlett just hated.
"That wasn't convincing?" Seth growled. "I whooped his ass all three rounds. So he rocked me for what a few seconds, the fans got a thrill,"
"Heard you might get fight of the night," Mickey Khan said as he unraveled the tape around Seth's hands and wrists. "But, yo, real talk...he could have whopped yo' ass,"
She looked at him through a thin veil of smoke, with a look of "I told oyu so," plastered all over her pretty face. Seth normally hated chicks who smoked, but Scarlett made it look sexy. She was in her usual fight night uniform; blazer and pantsuit, this one colored blue, with a white camisole underneath. Her matching blue and white Italian shoes gleamed in the florescent light, and for the umpteenth time, Seth regretted his no money/no pussy rule. But pops was right. She was a great manager and might be one hell of a girlfriend, but would suck as a manager
and
a girlfriend.
Then he remembered the chick in red. And as he was about to speak her name, Cowboy Judd Wallis the arena owner walked into the locker room. "Nice fight boy," the big man's voice echoed off the walls of the locker room. As usual, he glanced at Scarlett with both lust and disdain.
He stood at least six five, and weighed around 300 tops. He was a solid man, hailing from Brownsville, TX. He wore a custom-made buck hide sports coat and a ten gallon black cowboy hat. His belly protruded proudly over his massive gold belt buckle of silhouette of a naked girl's profile. "You sure did pack 'em in," he reached inside his jacket pocket and held out the winner's check. Wallis smiled. "Well deserved son," Seth took the check. "Gave you a lil' somthin' extra for sellin' out and putting on one hell of a show," he laughed. "Shit," he said dragging out the i. "When that boy knocked you down, the crowd went nuts. Beer sells after you won went through the roof, not to mention your t-shirts,"
"Which we get 35% of," Scarlett chimed in as she looked at the check over Seth's' shoulders. "Does this check reflect tonight's income and our correct percentage,"
The cowboy licked his lips lustfully, while his face looked as if he swallowed shit. "Great night indeed; Two three more fights, and you might be ready for the big leagues boy," he didn't even address Scarlett.
Seth looked at the check and grinned. "I am more than ready for the big time,"
Wallis looked at Pops, who was busying himself around the room. "Pops, talk some sense into this boy,"
Without looking up from the table Pops replied, "More than ready,"
Everyone seemed to ignore the fact Wallis' failed to answer Scarlett's query.
Wallis laughed. "Maybe," Wallis bellowed. "but not with this crew of misfits," he bowed slightly. "No offense Pops," he said his voice with true respect, a sound unfamiliar to Seth until now. "God knows you are the best scout of talent and the best damn trainer around, but lets face it, you don't have that fire for the road like you used to. Besides times have changed and there is a whole new breed of asshole out there. Pops you ready to deal with this new breed of asshole, all the bullshit,"
Pops still did not look up from what he was doing, "Maybe," he croaked. "Maybe not," He paused. "Will go if asked though,"
Wallis smiled, and then he looked at Seth. "Talent can only take you so far kid," I got the machine to make you huge,"