Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Josue
I must have been out of my fucking mind.
After she’d been right in my face, literally begging for me to consider this, I was caught between whether this was a crazy idea, or if this was the best thing to happen to House of Beast. A female fighter wasn’t exactly the lure I’d figure would help the gym, but that’s why I had Héctor. He saw things I didn’t see.
It took me about a full minute to stop pacing out of anxiousness, as when I did finally sit, I lifted up the blinds to take a look at Sierra sitting lotus style, on the mat she’d just bodied me on. “She’s really fucking pretty. That’s too pretty, right?”
“Are you stating that or asking me?”
“I’m asking you, ?Estúpido de mierda!*”
“Audiences certainly don’t want to watch unattractive female fighters go at it.
And attractiveness is suggestive, but she’s young.
Doe eyed. Not that I’m trying to notice, but physically proportionate.
Sex sells for female fighters. A pic on the gram in a sports bra, short shorts and her hip poked out could make her a celebrity overnight.
” Which I’m sure what he was referring to was her social media presence, something I didn’t pay much attention to with my own handles, because I had people to manage that for me.
“I don’t know if I want to take on the responsibility of taking her on and it goes fucking nowhere,” nervous for the first time in a long time when it came to what I could do for a fighter. There was a deep-rooted fear that all I’d do was waste her time, and neither of us needed that.
But…there was also endless possibility there. No expectations meant there wasn’t anywhere to go but up. No one would expect the first champion to come out of House of Beast to be a woman. No one would expect that move to come from me.
“I know some people, who know some people, who are matchmakers who mainly take on female fighters. People who could really work with her and set her with the right fights,” Héctor admitted.
“I’d have to do my homework with this one. Study her competition, match her with people who would give her a challenge, but she could still beat while I clean her up on some of her weak points. She’s stronger on the ground, but she does have a mean right hook.”
“So, you are considering her?”
“I don’t fucking know yet, would you give me a second to think?
” I barked back. “You watch more female matches than me, if you had to think, who do you think would match against her current state?” Knowing Héctor would have the know-how-and-what, having studied local and national fights with amateur and experienced talent.
“There’s a few. But I think your best bet’s a girl from the Midwest. She’s popular out there, so you’d have to be sure.
But they have about the same number of fights under their belt, but given she’s 8-0, it’d definitely fast track the girl,” as he shared the name, and I put it to memory of all the homework I’d have to do on her.
“So, you’re not gonna talk me outta this?” I pointed toward the direction of the door, praying Héctor would knock me into my senses.
“We need a fighter. She’s a fighter. You must have saw something in her that you haven’t seen in someone, because you wouldn’t have wasted your time going to her fight, if you hadn’t.” ?Cono*! I hated when he was fucking right.
“Fuck me!” I huffed, choosing to leave the office before I changed my mind.
At the sound of the open door, Sierra rose to her feet, and I’m sure I had noticed it before, but Héctor noting her doe eyes…
I don’t know, they looked more…prominent to me now.
Disarming almost, like she was incapable of hiding any emotion with them.
It was like every laugh, moment of surprise or hurt could be seen through them before she even spoke.
“So?” she coaxed, making me instantly regret even noticing those big, beautiful brown eyes.
Shooting the girl a dismissive glance, my brow cocked, and I gave her a vague, “We’ll see.”
“We’ll see? What does that mean?” she asked for clarification.
“We’ll see means, this is a transitional period, where I’m willing to see if we can do anything with what you have—” as before I could stop her, she bounced on the balls of her feet and reached in and hugged me.
“?Qué carajo! *What are you doing?” interrupting her action, as she immediately withdrew, her expressive eyes full of instant regret.
“I’m sorry, I just got excited,” she apologized.
“Look, if I’m going to train you, keep that excitement to yourself.
In fact, if we’re going to make this work, I’ve got about a few boundaries that I’ll need in order for me to feel like you’re taking this seriously.
First off, no hugs. I’m not your brother.
I’m not your father, and I’m not your friend.
I’m your trainer. I want things professional, so let’s keep it that way.
” She reluctantly nodded, and I could tell through her hesitancy, that that was something I needed to put out there first.
“Two, I don’t want to hear any excuses. When I ask you to do something, I don’t want to hear you’re tired, or had a bad day, frankly, I don’t wanna hear anything but, Yes Coach. Is that clear?”
“Okay.”
“And while we’re at it, no fucking crying. If you want me to treat you like a fighter, and not a female fighter, don’t remind me you are. Keep your emotions in check. I don’t think I have to tell you, don’t bring any drama into my house. When you’re in House of Beast, it’s my house. You got that?”
“Yes, coach,” she said, pursing her lip.
“Right now, you’re giving bunny rabbit, and at House of Beast, I train beasts. If you think you have what it takes, I’m gonna need you to bear those teeth. I’m gonna need a version of you that’s un-fucking-hinged. Until I see that, all we’re doing will be a ‘we’ll see’,” I clarified.
“So, when do you start training me?” she asked, eager to get things moving.
“Tomorrow. 8:00 am. Give me five-to-six days. Four to six hours each time, so we can balance out your strengths and work on your weaknesses—”
“About that. I try to train every day,” she interrupted.
“Not with me, you don’t. Everything you currently do, forget it. I don’t want your past habits to interfere with my plans to train you. So, five-to-six, for four-to-six. Got that?”
“Will that be four to six hours at one time?”
“No, genius. Conditioning in the morning, floor work and sparring practice at night. Ain’t you ever been properly trained before?” I challenged.
“By someone as good as you? No. But to make your schedule work, I’d probably have to work something out with my job. Split shifts or something.”
“So that settles it. Put your number in my phone. I’ve got my work cut out for me, so you better get some rest tonight, because you’re gonna need it.
” She put her number in my phone and handed it back to me, as I nearly rolled my eyes at the smiling face with heart emoji on each sides of her name.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
“Thank you for this,” she clasped her hands together, like she was about to bow or something.
“Don’t thank me yet. I promise you, you’re not always gonna like my kind of training. I’m gonna push you, so before this even starts, I have to know you’re serious.”
“I’m serious—”
“Don’t tell me. Show me. 8:00 am. Tomorrow. Oh, and one more thing. Next time you take a slug at me, make sure it’s my left eye. I’m not trying to go blind.”
***
8:11.
This woman had me waiting on her for eleven minutes before she finally pranced up. I had texted her before midnight to meet me at Ivy Hill Park, having spent two hours before bed studying the fights of who I was looking at as a consideration for Medina’s first fight. And even I made it on time.
“I’ve been waiting close to fifteen minutes,” I acknowledged coldly.
“I had to take the bus here,” she defended. “I got here as early as I could—”
“Yesterday, I told you I didn’t want an excuse. Training started at 8:00. Not 8:01. Not 8:15, and certainly not 8:11. If it’s not an emergency, I expect you to be here on time. Tomorrow, you either show up on time, or don’t at all,” I ordered, as she apologized and we started with a run.
Her stamina wasn’t bad for a regular person, but she’d have to be able to withstand people who could run laps around her, so I was trying to observe how quickly she got out of breath.
It didn’t help that, in an attempt to make up for her tardiness, she was trying to prove how decent of shape she was in by trying to hop in front.
All that did was bring attention to that perfectly shaped ass of hers in her compression pants. ?Cono*! I was supposed to be training her, not checking out her body. But could you blame me, it was hard not to. Whether it was muscle or fat, it was like, the shape of a perfect peach.
When my mind went in the gutter, I wanted to take a bite so bad…but I had to stop myself. Focus. She might be a beautiful woman, but she’s still a fighter. If I wouldn’t do this to a man, I would constantly have to check myself not to do it with her.
A moment of relief came, when about twenty minutes in, she heaved over, asking for a water break. “Okay, but you get twenty seconds—”
“Just twenty?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, twenty,” reiterating. “If you spent half your focus on maintaining a steady speed instead of trying to prove to me how fast you can run, you wouldn’t be half as tired.
This ain’t a marathon, Medina. I’m testing your stamina, not asking you to win a race.
Yeah, you look the part, but you’ve got poor endurance.
You wanna last three, five, ten rounds? You’ve gotta be able to do it despite being worn out. ”
“Okay,” as she took in a deep breath, and nodded at my, “Ready?”
She was compliant for the rest of the jog, as when I asked whether we could follow up for tonight, she took a ride with me to House of Beast, so I could go over some of my plans for the next few weeks.