Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
A long white couch has the number two taped to the back of it right at the end. I almost keep walking, then remember that’s where I’m supposed to park my ass.
I hope that entrance looked smoother than it felt.
The couch looks plush but feels like the back is made of concrete. I settle in and flash a smile into the bright lights. As the adoration from the crowd continues, heat crawls over my cheeks. This didn’t happen to anyone else.
Venom reaches over and slaps my leg a few times. “They like you.”
I smile and nod like a bobblehead but can’t think of anything to say besides, “I guess so.”
Matt stares at me. With his permanently frozen face, it’s hard to tell what he expects me to do.
I turn my head to the right and spot Molly backstage. She flashes me two thumbs-up and claps her hands. To the left there seems to be another backstage area. I catch Naptime standing at the edge with an angry scowl etched into his face.
I don’t want to look like that sullen dickhead. Reluctantly, I stand and wave to the audience who’s still impossible to see beyond the glare.
Finally, Matt decides to move the show along and asks everyone to settle down.
Relieved the pressure’s off, I drop into my seat. We’ve got ten other guys out here, no reason to keep so much attention on me.
“And finally, the winner of season one of Supreme Underground Fighter…”
Does that mean there’s going to be a season two?
Naptime walks out from his side of the stage.
The response isn’t what you’d expect the winner of the whole damn show to receive. Boos rain down from every section of the audience. A few people chant what definitely sounds like, “Cheater! Cheater!”
Well, fuck. Maybe they actually aired his fake tap-out.
Venom grins and bumps my elbow. “They know what’s up.”
“Hell yeah.” I nod.
Naptime’s walking with a limp he didn’t have on the show. Good. And he’s holding one arm like it’s been stapled to his side. He drops onto the end of the other couch on my right. Almost close enough to reach out and gift him with a Stonewall Slap if he gives me a good reason.
Matt calls Kelly and Molly out. Molly hurries to my side and drops into the seat next to me. I curl my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. “You okay?” I ask against her ear.
She nods quickly.
Behind the couches where we’re all seated, a large screen slides down from above.
Matt goes through questions with each fighter. He starts with the ones who’d been dismissed first and works his way up. Scenes that Matt references play on the screen behind us.
The audience laughs or gasps at different antics. I can’t see the screen without craning my neck, but the audience seems into it. Women scream at one of Woolly’s clips. The whole audience gasps when the clip of Venom dropping Bull to his knees pops up.
I sit there with a barely controlled sneer, hating every second of reliving this.
“Stonewall!” Matt turns his attention to me.
A montage of clips plays on the screen behind me.
Molly and I both turn and stare up.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Clip after clip of me shirtless and sweaty. I’m either working out or training. Several close-up shots of the outline of my dick in gym shorts. To make it worse, each clip is shown in a strange slow-motion that looks more like a trailer for porno about fighters than clips from a reality show about fighters.
“We love you, Stonewall!” someone screams.
“I told you,” Molly whispers in my ear.
And here I thought it couldn’t get more embarrassing than people thinking I cheated on my girlfriend.
Then the clips of each of my fights start. At least those are professional. Who the fuck shot those other ones? Molly winces and squeezes my arm when the footage shows me taking a brutal shot to the face. She gasps at the one where I knocked out Bull. And a little squee pops out of her mouth when they show me winning against Venom.
The closing shot is the day I took the Ninja for a joy ride.
“Oh my God,” Molly whispers. “I can’t believe you did that. Was that staged?”
I lean down and say against her ear, “No. I felt like a dog who’d been taken for a walk on a leash that day and I just snapped.”
“Stonewall,” Matt says pulling my attention from Molly. “That was a very daring stunt you pulled. What were you thinking?”
I glance back at the screen. It’s frozen on a shot of me popping a wheelie. My muscles popping while I balance the heavy machine. “I was thinking if I’d been given a ride with a full gas tank, I would’ve ridden all the way home to see my girl.” I hug Molly to my side.