Chapter 12 Jake #2
The women’s fight ended up going to a decision, and all three rounds were decided in favor of Bivola.
I nodded even as José booed. “She got more solid hits in. Jones moves well, but she needs to work on her targeting. She’ll do better next time.
” Camila was giving her fighter a pep talk, but it really was a good first showing.
“If she decides to try and move up the ranks, this won’t count against her record,” I added.
“That’s what smokers are for, gaining experience in a more professional setting without putting your record on the line. ”
A bottle shattered somewhere outside, and two guys began shouting at each other. Several people near the door ran out to see what was going on, and for a second I wondered whether Ethan was bugged by how very not romantic this was.
Then he knocked his shoulder into mine and smiled at me. “Sounds like the second half of a home game. You want a beer?”
“Coke, please.” I’d save the alcohol for a night when I wasn’t driving.
The next three matches were more first fights, and all of them went to a decision, although one of the kids came out swinging so hard in round one it was clear he was hunting for a knockout.
His opponent had great footwork, though, and made an art of dodging until the initial rush of adrenaline had run out.
Then he picked the other guy apart with body shots and slipping, and ended up being the first Casa Alvarez win of the night.
Camila joined us again after that fight, taking her drooping son from my shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “Bobby was supposed to corner the young ones solo tonight, but Mikayla wanted me to stay and then… ” She shrugged.
“But it’s only House of Pain fighters for the kickboxing, so I slipped away.
” She looked from me to Ethan. “And who is this?”
He held out a hand. “Ethan Bernier, ma’am.”
She smiled as they shook. “I’ve heard Carson mention you! You play with Marek, right?” Camila winked at me. “What is it with you guys and hockey players, hmm?”
“They’re hard to resist,” I said. “I mean, I couldn’t.” Ethan ducked his head, and I was pretty sure if it wasn’t so hot in here I’d be able to see him blushing.
We chatted through the kickboxing rounds, which mostly consisted of fighters bouncing around with the occasional head kick thrown in, and then it was time for the more experienced boxers to take to the ring.
The seventh fight was another women’s match, both fighting at one-forty-five, and it also ended up being the first knockout of the night—by none other than Mikayla’s older sister, Shavonne.
Right before the bell, she wound up for a beautiful left hook, got her opponent’s hand to drop, then nailed her with a right cross to the jaw that sent her to the mat.
The House of Pain fighter tried to stand but staggered instead, then went down again.
“Oh, fuck!” Ethan shouted, then clapped his hand over his mouth, but somehow José was fast asleep even as his mother screamed with glee.
“That’s my girl!” Camila yelled. “Es una chingona!”
At the end of the eight count, the fight was called in Shavonne’s favor, and the cheers rocked the building. Good thing it was after business hours, because it would be impossible to get anything done on either side of this place right now.
The eighth fight was between the biggest guys of the night, each of them heavyweight fighters.
Neither of them came within forty pounds of me, but they were still big, and they were surprisingly technical too.
Both guys were bloody by the end of it, and Casa Alvarez’s fighter carried it by a split decision.
There were a lot of boos from both teams, and some shoving in the audience before Pete got people to back down.
“You wanna get the cops called on this place because of a stupid riot?” he snapped into the mic. “Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, motherfuckers! Alexi, I will call your grandma!”
“Sorry, Pete!”
The last fight of the night was a middleweight bout between a pair of instructors from each school. The House of Pain’s guy had a ridiculous reach advantage—he was skinny but nearly six feet tall, while Casa Alvarez’s fighter was at least six inches shorter than him.
“Aw, he’s going to get worked,” Ethan muttered.
“Not necessarily,” I said. “Reach is useful, for sure, but there are ways to get around it. If he gets to the inside, he’s going to be able to rip on the taller guy’s body.”
Before we could say anything else, the bell rang and the dance began.
I wasn’t a boxer, but I knew good fighters, and both these guys were good.
The taller one did a great job of using his range like a sniper, punching and counterpunching with devastating accuracy, and every shot was a head shot.
The shorter fighter had a good slipping game, but he was having a hard time working in to make his own shots effective.
The first round clearly went to the taller guy.
The second round was more of the same, with the smaller fighter trying to amp it up and getting inside a few times, but mostly being held at bay by those head shots.
Things changed in the third round, when the Casa Alvarez fighter managed to back his opponent into the corner of the ring.
Without an avenue for retreat, Casa Alvarez’s guy got inside his guard and began to whale on him with body blows.
It went from messy to ugly fast, and with over a minute left to go, the House of Pain fighter suddenly collapsed to the mat.
The ref ran over to check him out, then immediately called for the ringside doctor.
“Ouch,” Ethan said, concern on his face.
“Probably a liver shot,” I told him. “They take a few seconds to catch up to you, but when they do it’s over fast. He’ll probably be fine,” I added when his frown didn’t fade.
“The doc will check him out.” I was pleasantly surprised they had a ringside doctor for a smoker—that was responsible.
He was probably a student. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
We said our goodbyes to Camila, then walked through the crowd, over broken glass, and past several messy smears on the sidewalk I did not want to know about.
As we got in my car, I asked, “Are you good?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “I just—I’m so used to hockey fights, it’s weird to see them anywhere but the ice.”
“I felt the same way when I started watching hockey fights,” I admitted. “Did you… have fun, though?”
Ethan looked at me for a second, then unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over, slid his hand around the back of my head, and kissed me so deeply my ears started to ring.
“So much fun,” he said against my lips as he pulled back so we could catch our breath. He might have said more, but then I realized that the ringing was a siren coming our way.
Time to go.