Chapter 4 #2
Instant hoots, hollering and catcalling filled the gym from the moment she walked through the doors, my counter arguments about cutting that shit out calming it down a bit. Geez, you’d think these fucks had never seen a skirt before.
“I know most of you are not accustomed to seeing a woman at House of Beast, but calm the fuck down. You’re going to be seeing a lot of her from now on, so don’t make her feel like anything less than what you come here for. ?Entiendes*?”
That seemed to ease her explicit unease at the idea she was the only woman here, but she was going to be spending a lot of time here, and while she was legitimate, she was going to have to prove that to the regulars here, as much as she had to prove it to me.
We’d nearly made it to the strategy room, before she noticed Héctor setting up the striking wall, as her an infectious smile spread across her face at the sight of recognition, eyes beaming, as she flashed an excitable wave at him.
“Medina, let’s go,” I ordered, as she ducked into the office, plopping onto the first chair she came to contact with.
“First matter of business, we’ll do a weigh in next time, but I’m putting you on a meal regimen so you’ll be able to make weight when it’s time to.
Ever consider going down to flyweight? Flyweight’s got nearly twice the fighters and the point is to get more fights, so it might be a good idea to go down a class. ”
“I prefer being at bantamweight.”
“It’s not about preference, it’s about access to more people to fight,” I doubled down.
“I don’t want to argue. And I don’t want to sound like I know everything.
But I’m in my weight class for a reason.
If I could have one boundary, it would be to stay in the weight class I can maintain better,” she gently challenged.
I locked eyes with her, looking for a point of weakness or possible chance she could be persuaded.
She seemed firm in her conviction, so I figured I could grant her this one thing.
“Fine. But that’s your only get out of jail free card. You allergic to seafood?” quickly changing the subject.
“No.”
“Good, because from now on, you get your protein from seafood,” handing her a print out of the meal plan I’d set up for her in the next coming weeks. She looked over it with caution, like she wasn’t sure she could commit to it. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” she stammered.
“Good, because everything is temporary until I see how it affects you and if you’re able to make weight.
There are challenges with that anyway, but I hear it’s hard as shit for a female fighter considering your body holds onto water and your weight fluctuates due to hormonal changes leading up to your period. ”
“If it helps, I have an IUD. So, I don’t get my period every month, but when I do, they don’t last as long,” she seemed to shy at the talk of her menstruation.
“I don’t need to know what kind of birth control you’re on, I just need you to be able to make weight when it comes up. The pay is shit this early in, and we don’t want you missing out on bonuses or have it cut into your earnings, or if we even get that far, cost you a title.”
She seemed to understand what was at stake with that, answering with a civil, “I’ll take that into consideration.” Placing the meal plan in her gym bag, before she could be dismissed, I wanted to know one more thing.
“One last thing. What happened this morning can’t happen again, understand?”
“Mmmhmm.” She nodded.
“I’m serious. I’m being hard on you because you’re not showing me you want this. Show me and I’ll ease up. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Before you go, I got one more thing to add to that list I gave you last night. Remember I said, no crying, no hugging, no drama or no excuses?” each one counting off a finger with.
“I should have said this with the rest of them, but this one is most important than them all. If we’re going to work, I’m gonna need for there to be no secrets between us. ”
“Okay?” her tone questioning.
“I mean it, Medina. When I start meshing your name with mine, I need to know if there’s anything that can potentially bite us in the ass. So, if you’ve got any skeletons, now would be the time to tell me, because I can’t spin what I don’t know,” I further explained.
“I’m not sure I get what you mean when you say skeletons,” she clarified.
“Have you ever killed anybody? Have you ever served time? Is there a famous parent I should know about? Anything the media can potentially use to make you look bad,” I doubled down.
“Not that I can think of,” she sheepishly answered back.
“So, no major debt by a loan shark? No secret weddings I should know about?”
“No.”
“Because you know it’s okay if you date, but moving forward, most of your draw and interest is going to come from men.
To fill those seats, they’re gonna have to believe they have access to you.
They don’t, but part of it is the fantasy of you.
I wouldn’t be asking you to pretend to be single, but if you have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, an enbyfriend, whatever—”
“I’m single. Queer, but I’m sure I still convey I’m still attracted to men,” she blushed.
“So, moving forward, you’re either private or you’re not. No half-in-half-out shit. Pick a lane and don’t go back and forth.”
“I can do that,” she nodded.
“You can do that?” I asked, to reiterate. “I don’t think I have to ask you not to speak to the press. Hurry up and get out of here so I can get more time with you later,” not thinking it through before I said that. Was I being professional enough? Would I even be asking that if she were a man?
She left the office, awarding me the time to go over her last four wins, to study why she’d won those when the first four had been failures.
Her lack of patience was her weak point.
She left herself vulnerable a lot, misused her energy and at times, looked like she was at one hundred percent, something that would absolutely lead to early exhaustion.
She was better off coursing her opponent out, letting them reach their exhaustion point before she could even get to hers.
She was decent at redistributing weight, something that had even worked on me, someone with the experience to have saw that coming.
But she needed to hone in. When she came in tonight, we were going to go over some basic drills.
In time, Héctor had joined me in the office, as at around this time of day, we answered email inquiries to potential gym memberships, put through orders for replacements if any, and went over whether we could afford more hired help.
“How’s training going?” Héctor asked nonchalantly, like it wasn’t his grand scheme to be fucking nosy as fuck.
“We’re still working on it to see if we’re a good fit. You still got that fighter’s contact when and if she’s ready?” I asked back, composed and collected.
“So, you are taking her seriously?” he smirked.
“We’re seeing where it’s going.”
Héctor got serious for a moment, not rare for him, but I was both surprised and appalled at what he admitted next.
“I probably should have brought this up before. But if you do take the girl on, be prepared for a lot of anti-Blackness, especially if you decide you want to take her first fight to the Midwest. There will be a lot of instances where coded language is thrown around, and I don’t think you’ve experienced it enough to prepare her for that,” he explained.
“You think I ain’t ever had to deal with racist assholes before?”
“Not like a Black woman has to. I admit, I was na?ve to the unique challenges I faced in the short amount of time I fought. I thought if I could be better than my opponent, I could escape all that shit. But if anything, it just made them more obsessed with my Black body. And this was before social media was huge. Sierra Medina can fight, but I don’t think she quite has the beast in her to deal with that sudden surge of criticism. ”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m not saying you gotta be softer with her. I’m saying consider that when you’re being hard on her.”
“Gee, Héctor, I’m surprised you feel that way. I always thought you were ‘I No Black’,” breaking into a laugh, something that I was rearing back so he didn’t think I didn’t take his words seriously. “You know I’m just playing with you. I just like to fuck with you.”
“Yeah, well take this big fuck you. That’s why men don’t be telling each other shit, because we don’t even take each other seriously.”
“I heard you. I can’t for sure say I’m gonna handle Medina with kid’s gloves, but if you’re telling me that what she’s going to face is something I also have to prepare her for, I’ll take that seriously.
Honestly, even having to fight off the regulars here this morning was uncomfortable.
To think she has to go through that everywhere is honestly kinda disturbing,” I admitted.
“There aren’t as many Black female fighters, so just don’t dismiss when she has feelings about her experience is all I’m saying,” Héctor repeated himself.
“?Ya te oi!* You already said that, I’ll go easy,” I ribbed. There were just a few hours before my evening session with Medina, but still so much to consider about taking her on.
***
This morning’s lecture must have set Medina straight, because this time, she was on time.
Having not built this space in mind that a lot of women would attend, the instant humility that coursed through me at Sierra having to change into her gym clothes in our office made me think a renovation was due.
A year or two ago, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to consider female locker rooms, and I wasn’t going to make the kid share a locker room with a room full of musty men. Until I could fix that issue, this was where we were.
Meeting her at the back of the gym, where the grappling zone was set up, my lip curled in annoyance at the sight and smell of her around the area.
“Come on, Medina, what is this?” in reference to her cutesy, cartoonish, pink and grey sports bra and shorts set.