Chapter 27
Keaton
I’d won my fight in Vegas two days ago, and whether I was ready or not, it was time to get back to a more normal routine.
Of course, the next couple of weeks I would focus more on recovery than training, but I still had work at the bar, and a growing list of random shit I’d been ignoring while fight camp had taken over my life.
I finished getting dressed, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed into the kitchen. The house was quiet, which told me my roommates had already left for the gym. If they hadn’t, Mason would’ve been talking my ear off before I’d even had my first dose of caffeine for the day.
While my coffee brewed, I was leaning against the counter when my phone buzzed on the kitchen island.
It buzzed again, and again. By the fourth notification, I finally picked it up and found dozens of alerts from The Loop.
Ever since Vegas, I’d been tagged in a ton of photos and videos, so it seemed social media had taken notice of my fight.
I opened the app and immediately landed on Elevate Sports Management’s page. They’d posted a full gallery from the weekend, including a photo of me standing with Jase Matthewson, Dylan Statler, and Marcos, who represented all three of us. The caption read:
Three athletes. Three breakout careers. One management team. Jase Matthewson, Dylan Statler, and Keaton Stafford are proving that the future of sports is already here.
I clicked on the comments, which might’ve been a mistake, but I’d never been the type to let random people online get under my skin.
Half of them argued about baseball, while the other half debated the technical skills required for both sports.
Based on some of what I was reading, I was fairly certain most of them had never played a sport in their lives.
One guy had even managed to turn the entire discussion into a political argument. I had no idea how that happened.
Further down, I found the comments specifically about me:
Never heard of that boxer guy
I immediately rolled my eyes. Boxer guy? He clearly knew absolutely nothing about MMA.
Watched the fight. Stafford looked impressive
That MMA dude looks intense
That one made me laugh because he wasn’t wrong.
I’d already been locked in when Marcos brought Jase and Dylan backstage.
They were in Vegas, enjoying a few days off from baseball during the All-Star break, and the smiles on their faces proved they were having a great time.
Looking at the photo now, the difference in our expressions was almost comical.
I kept scrolling through the comments for another minute before backing out and looking through the rest of the gallery, which included pictures from weigh-ins and media events, plus a shot of me with my hand raised after the fight.
A lot had happened in just a few days, and most of it still felt a little surreal.
A few months ago, I was wondering what my career would look like after my injury.
Now people were posting highlight videos of my fights and acting like I had a promising future.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Marcos:
Hope you’re getting some rest. I’ve got some things in the works. Once I get the details worked out I’ll give you a call
A smile pulled at my mouth. Whatever Marcos was working on, I couldn’t wait to hear it.
When I walked into the bar that evening, happy hour had drawn a decent crowd, though it would likely thin out as soon as the drinks went back to full price. At least, that’s what usually happened on weeknights.
“You’re back!” Jenna shouted from behind the bar, where she was stocking glasses.
Not only had I been out of town for my fight, but I’d also cut my hours for most of camp and taken the last two weeks off. Putting in six-plus hours at the gym every day, getting the rest I needed, and working the night shift would have been impossible.
I headed in her direction. “Did you miss me?”
“More than you know. Next time you do that fight camp thing, you need to figure out how to keep working your regular hours. Poor Larry over there”—she nodded at the man sitting nearby—“has complained that no one’s been able to make him a proper Manhattan while you’ve been gone the last couple of weeks. ”
I stepped up beside him and clapped him on the shoulder. “You know we have other bartenders, right?”
“None of them make it good,” he grumbled.
“That’s because you’re impossible to please.”
His smile was highlighted by a little gleam in his eye. “Or I just have high standards.”
“Sure. We’ll go with that.” I slipped behind the bar top and got ready to start work.
I’d just finished refilling the ice bin when another regular, Teddy, raised his beer toward me. “Saw the fight the other night.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “The bar’s been talking about it for weeks, and Channel 8 mentioned it during their sports coverage. Figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”
“Well, I appreciate the support.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know what I was watching half the time.” He took a sip of his drink. “But even I could tell you were kicking that guy’s ass. You didn’t even look nervous.”
I chuckled because that wasn’t true. I’d been plenty nervous. Vega was a tough fighter, and anyone who went up against him with too much arrogance was asking for trouble. “That’s good. Thanks.”
Twenty minutes later, someone else brought up the fight. And again, after that.
A guy I’d never seen before approached me while I was clearing one of the high-top tables. “You’re Keaton Stafford, right?”
I lifted a brow. “Depends who’s asking.”
“I watched your fight.” He beamed. “I told my friend you were going to be the next big thing on the West Coast.”
I stopped. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He looked me up and down. “You don’t even look like you fought Vega just two days ago.”
I snorted. “The lighting in here helps hide the bruises.”
He laughed. “Whatever it is, it’s working. Seriously though, man. That was a hell of a fight. Can’t wait to tell people I met you before you got famous.”
“I guess we’ll find out if the famous thing comes true, but thanks for watching.” I gave him a nod and continued wiping down the table.
When I got back to the bar, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that so many people had watched me fight.
“What’s that look for?” Jenna asked.
I set the empty tray down. “It’s just weird.”
“What is?”
I looked around the room. “That people know who I am. And not just the regulars.”
She laughed. “Don’t let it go to your head, big guy.”
I rolled my eyes and got back to work.
The rest of the night went pretty much the same way. A few more people congratulated me, someone asked when I’d be competing again, and one guy proudly told me he’d won fifty bucks betting on me then thanked me for funding his date night.
As the bar began to empty and I started my cleanup, my mind drifted briefly to Rowan before I could stop it.
Then, unexpectedly, I thought of my mom too.
Neither of them had been there in Vegas to see my fight, nor had either been the first person I talked to after the fight.
That realization stung a little. But I also realized I wasn’t completely alone.
Mason was always around with something encouraging to say, even if he delivered it in a strange way.
Enzo and Derek had watched my fight from home, and I’d had texts from them waiting on my phone when I got backstage.
Even Devon had managed to be supportive without making it weird. Or kissing me.
The people in my corner might not have looked the way I’d imagined they would when I was a kid, or even a few months ago, but tonight, it felt pretty damn good.
A week later, I found myself sitting across from Devon’s desk because Marcos had texted me earlier to say he had news to share. Devon tapped a button on his phone, then set it on the desk between us as Marcos’s voice filled the office through the speakerphone.
“Hey, Keaton.”
“Hey,” I greeted in return.
“I’ve got about three minutes before my next meeting, so let’s make this quick.
” He sounded distracted, which wasn’t surprising.
The MLB trade deadline was approaching, and half his clients were probably convinced their careers depended on him answering their calls right that minute. “I got you another fight.”
I sat up a little straighter. “Already?”
“Yep. We’re looking at November.” I heard papers shuffling on the other end of the line. “It’s a good opportunity, with a bigger stage and a bigger audience. Exactly the kind of fight we were hoping for after Vegas.”
“That’s great.”
“It is. Unfortunately, I’ve got three general managers trying to rob each other blind, and two baseball players who don’t want to be on the same team, so Devon’s going to walk you through the details.”
I laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Someone called his name in the background. “That’s my cue. Review the paperwork and talk it through, and I’ll call you tomorrow. If everything looks good, we’ll make it official.”
The call disconnected before I could respond.
“All right.” Devon slid a folder across the desk. “Let’s take a look at what Marcos sent over.”
I opened it and immediately recognized the promotion company’s logo. It wasn’t one of the giants in the sport, but it was the kind of organization people paid attention to, and one that could open more doors if things went well.
The farther I read, the better the contract looked.
The show fee was decent, and the purse was larger than anything I’d earned before.
The event would be streamed nationally, and the November date gave me plenty of time to recover before starting camp again.
By the time I reached the venue information and saw Austin, Texas, listed on the page, I was already mentally rearranging the next few months of my life.
“Not bad,” I said.
Devon chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”
I kept reading, and my eyes dropped to the opponent section. For a second, my brain didn’t register what I was seeing.
Rowan Cross.
I stared at his name for a moment before scanning farther down the page, then back up again as if the name might somehow change if I gave it the chance. It didn’t.
I leaned back in my chair. “Is this serious?”
He nodded. “Very.”
I looked back down at the paperwork. It wasn’t that long ago that Rowan and I were in a relationship, trying to figure out a way to make it work long-distance. Now I was holding a contract that put us in a cage, facing off against each other. The whole thing felt … wrong.
“Why Rowan?” I finally asked.
“Because that’s what the promoters want.”
“Still feels weird.”
“Of course it does.” Devon shrugged. “You dated the guy.”
“Exactly.”
“Hey,” he began. “I don’t know how many people knew you two were together or if that will become part of the fight conversation—”
“It won’t.”
He lifted a brow. “But even without that, there’s still a story there that’ll sell the fight.”
“What story is that?”
He folded his hands on the desk. “You’re both undefeated.
You’re both coming off big wins. You’re both getting attention beyond your local markets.
From a matchmaking standpoint, it’s easy to see why they’d want this fight.
It doesn’t hurt that you trained together for a while and know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They’ll use all of that.”
From a fighter’s perspective, I could see why people would be interested in the matchup. We were former training partners who took different paths to reach the same point in our careers. Rowan was a skilled fighter, and so was I. We’d both been building momentum, and neither of us had taken a loss.
The problem was that I couldn’t look at the contract strictly as a fighter. Every time my eyes fell on his name, my mind went to everything else tied to him—the nights we spent together, sitting by the river, playing video games, and every other moment we’d shared over the years.
“Has Rowan seen this yet?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s likely his management team has. Whether it’s reached him yet is anybody’s guess.”
Somewhere in Tampa, there was a decent chance Rowan was looking at the same offer.
Maybe he’d already seen it. Maybe he was sitting in an office, having a conversation a lot like this one.
Maybe he’d already decided what he wanted to do.
Or maybe he was struggling like me, because although I’d initially been surprised at seeing Rowan’s name on the contract, everything Devon said rang true.
If this had been a bad opportunity, the answer would have been easy. Instead, it was the biggest opportunity of my career so far, and I wasn’t sure I could afford to turn it down.