Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Microphones are shoved in our faces, too many questions to make out a single one shouted into the air, as we work our way to the double doors at the end, where the men in bright-yellow shirts that read Security will keep all the crazy on this side.
We step into the event center seconds before the overhead glow fades out, leaving nothing but a bright-white light pointed at the sealed doors in the center of the wall.
The music starts low, slowly growing louder as the bass climbs. The crowd begins to cheer, and the beat of my pulse hums with pride at the sound.
Just like that, the doors are thrown open, a hyped-up Willie and Drew flying through, whipping towels over their heads in a helicopter motion, as they lead the main event contender toward the center.
Several seconds go by before he comes into view, and when he does, my smile spreads. I cup my mouth and shout, but I don’t need to.
He looks right at me.
Right where he knew I’d be waiting, front row center.
He winks, his lips twitching into a small curve as he steps forward, goes through a quick check, and then he’s in the ring—his first fight as a number-one contender.
He wins tonight, he gets a title, something he should have had to work years for, yet earned in less than one. Sure, the originally planned fighter didn’t make weight, and they asked him sort of last minute, but who cares! It’s a million-dollar contract, win or lose, and if he wins?!
I couldn’t even fathom the thought, so I made him promise not to tell me.
At first, we couldn’t believe the title holder agreed to put his belt on the line, but he did what everyone has done to Crew Taylor since he was a boy.
He underestimated him, and so the current champ took the fight.
Now, my man will prove to him, as he has all others, what a mistake that is.
He’s about to brawl with a beast, and he will lose.
Plugging in my earbuds to drown out the crowd, I smile at the nonchalance of the man I get to call mine, wait for the two to touch gloves, and close my eyes to make a wish.
Crew floats around the ring, circling, taking small jabs and waiting for his opportunity to strike. One punch is all he needs, and after taking a few himself, he finds it, sooner than even I expected, an impressive thirty seconds left in the first round.
Julius pulls out my earbuds with a wink, and Drew shows up at my left, tugging on my hand until I’m at the cage.
I curl my fingers into the chain-link fence coated in black vinyl, grinning up at Crew as Willie wipes his chest with a towel and tugs a Sanchez Sangria and Brews T-shirt and hat over his head—of course the friend plug is a must in an opportunity like this, millions of people watch these pay-per-view fights. It’s a shock Willie still makes time to be Crew’s main man with how his and Layla’s business is booming. But he did hire a team to help him run the place.
The TV personality climbs inside the ring for questions, but Crew steals the mic, taking a few steps away from him, and looks out over the roaring arena—knowing his upbringing and the hardships of life he faced, Crew was an overnight favorite for those in love with the sport. Everyone loves to see a man they can relate to accomplish more than they dare to dream about achieving.
“This night means a lot to my family and me,” he begins, the crowd going wild, and I bounce on my feet. “And as much as a fight, let alone a win, against a badass motherfucker like Delacruz is, it has nothing to do with what just happened here.”
His eyes find mine through the gaps of the cage, and a long exhale whooshes into the mic.
“See, one year ago today, my family faced something I couldn’t protect them from, and we lost someone we loved.” Crew licks his lips, facing the crowd again. “He was a special man, a brother to me when I couldn’t even be one for my own blood.” He looks to Drew for a moment. “His name was Memphis Franco and he—” Crew drops the mic, looking off a moment before bringing it right back. “He was my best friend, but I, uh, I let a lot of things go unsaid for a long time, and when he died in my arms, regret like you wouldn’t believe hit me like a fucking truck. I didn’t get the chance to tell Memphis what he meant to me and now I never will.”
Tears slip from my eyes, my gaze soft on the man in front of me.