Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Josue
“Work the bag for twenty more minutes, and then we’ll cool down,” I said, splitting my focus between reading through contracts and instructing Sierra.
“You're not even watching me,” she whined.
“I gotta be watching you for you to fucking train?” I countered.
“I just feel like I do better when you watch me.” With the right training and meal plan, in the limited time we had with each other I was convinced Sierra could go an easy six rounds in the ring. The harder I pushed her, I could easily work her up to handling ten.
Only thing was, she was so fucking needy.
Not a bad way, but for her it was more than just training.
It was the validation she never got and the praise she so willfully fought for.
I knew what that was like. Being orphaned at a young age fucked with your brain chemistry and shit.
And cheering crowds? Sometimes they more than made up for it.
But with Sierra, I was dealing with someone more expressive.
Someone who was more used to being discounted, underestimated, and forgotten.
I was setting her up for whatever she was meant to do, win or lose. All the mentorship, coaching, advice or whatever I was able to provide, I had already given. So, it was up to her to do the rest, and I could tell she needed this. But in a big way I needed it too.
Training her was healing something inside me.
In doing so it had opened my eyes to things I'd never addressed from my own past. But most of all, training her had been like training myself. The underdog. The one who had had the most to prove. What would help was if I’d found her unattractive or had a personality I couldn’t stand.
Because while the kid annoyed me with her occasional upbeat attitude, girly tendencies and bubbly nature, sometimes you needed that change in contrast.
There was always a level of intimacy you had with a coach. A power dynamic that couldn't be denied. A mutual respect. It wasn’t exactly her fault that she made my dick hard.
?Cono*! It was bad enough now we lived together, trained together, spent more time together than we should have.
Then I had to fuckin watch her prance around in her tight little tank tops like she refused to acknowledge that I was a man and had eyes.
I lost count how many times I jerked off just to curb my appetite.
“You better not fight like that on Sunday. Otherwise I'll schedule a private rematch and watch her kick your ass again,” I joked, as she playfully pushed me, teasing me with a cute little, “Shut up,” as we playfully circled one another until she went back to the bag.
I usually set time aside to close the locker room so she could have time to shower without any of these knuckleheads walking in on her.
If things worked out, we were definitely renovating to accommodate women having their own space here.
Until then, I guarded the entrance like a hawk, waiting for her to finish her shower and change into her post-workout clothes.
She met me at the door ready to get out of here, but anxious to see where her mind was before her fight, I had other plans.
“Come with me.” This time she didn’t question me, she just followed my order and followed me to the cage. Taking my shoes off, I peeled my shirt off from behind, lowering to my hands and knees.
“What are you doing?”
“Take off your shoes,” I interrupted, failing to answer her question. I slipped out of my compression pants until nothing but boxer briefs stood between me and the cage floor.
“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” she asked with hesitation.
“No, I just want you to strip to your level of comfort. Humble yourself for the cage. You don't got to get naked. Just whatever you’re comfortable with.” Item by item, Sierra stripped down to her sports bra and panties, as a wave of relief subsided that she felt that unthreatened by my presence.
“Now breathe,” I instructed and she followed with steady inhales and exhales. Slowly I stretched out, touching the cage floor, memorizing the texture beneath my knees, remembering what it felt like to fight at its center.
“I want you to feel it. Explore the sensations. The sounds. How your body responds while you're here. Anytime you fight, you should feel one with the cage. Every time, anywhere. No matter who’s house you find yourself in, the cage should always feel like home town advantage.”
She rolled around, her loc’d hair outstretched and kissing the mat, as her sinewy frame became one with the mat. “Now breathe.” At my command she stopped, relaxing into a lotus pose across from me.
“How do you feel?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer. You've trained in the cage. You've humbled yourself for the cage. You became one with the cage. Now what?” I probed again. With her big doe eyes, she met my gaze me, saying the only words I wanted to hear.
“I'm gonna win in that fucking cage.”
“?Comó?* Speak louder, I can’t hear you.”
“I said I'm gonna win in that cage,” she repeated with more confidence.
“That's more like it now. Now get dressed. We got a long drive ahead of us. Best we not even stop for home and get on that road now. And then you’re gonna win that fuckin’ fight.”
***
This was the longest fucking drive of my life, ?Ay, Dios Mio*!
Normally, I could handle Sierra’s little generational nuances, and I’d certainly listened to artists back in the day that would’ve annoyed whatever parental figure I’d been dumped with before I aged out the system.
But I wasn’t prepared for what a ride with both Sierra and Héctor would look like, forced to listen to an unhealthy mix of anything from Sabrina Carpenter to SexyRed.
He made time to be Sierra’s second cornerman, but right now, I wanted to slap the shit out of him for encouraging her, even singing along with her to half this shit.
Then I forget he had daughters, so that’s probably the only reason why he even knew the songs.
You can only run back Espresso so many times before you put your fist through the radio.
“You’ve been listening to this shit the whole fucking ten hours,” I yelled to the back seat. “At least put on something we can all listen to.”
“Can you make the whole trip in one shot, or did you plan to get a room on the way?” Héctor wondered out loud.
I loved Héctor, but he was not driving my car, so it meant I was forced to be at the wheel the entire time.
I could probably make most the trip, but I would need some rest before the fight, and sleeping in a car before a match was not ideal.
Honestly, I only needed about four hours of sleep to feel good about driving the rest of the way, but I could tell the kid needed a good six if she’d feel confident about tomorrow.
We’d passed her home state of Pennsylvania, but you never knew how big a state was until you were driving in it.
PA was nearly most of the way, and that I could have handled, but I figured if we were actually in Ohio, the rest of the trip would be smooth sailing.
“Who’s got signal? Is there a motel nearby?
” As within a few miles, we slowed for the first one, all of us unable to ignore the bad feeling we got from it.
Upon seeing the confederate flag in the check in window, I’d never sped so fast in my life, us all collectively agreeing that was a hell no, as we sought out something closer to a major city this time. None of that outskirts shit.
When we finally did find accommodations, it was pretty basic, but promised a bed and a separate room for each of us.
I was footing the bill for everything, so the least I could get was my own room.
Héctor hadn’t even hesitated before he reveled in the fact he wouldn’t wake up to three screaming kids, a true good night’s rest if you will, reminding me of how fortunate I was not to have done that to myself.
His kids were great though. Two out of three of them he wouldn’t have to worry about, but that eldest daughter? I didn’t envy him now that she was officially a teenager and asking for permission to date. Thank god I wasn’t a parent.
Helping Sierra with her bag in my trunk, I was about to walk her to her room, when the hotel manager chased us down. “I’m sorry Mr. Mendez, I charged you for three rooms, but it looks like we only have two.”
“Get the fuck outta here, you just said you had three!”
“If you come to the front desk, I can refund you, but room 354 is currently in use. It must have been an error on my part—”
“You god damn right it’s an error on your part, now I’ve got no place else to sleep. It’s too late in the night for this shit!” I protested, as Sierra was trying to calm me down.
“Maybe we could just share the room for now, it’s not a big deal for a few hours of shuteye,” she suggested, giving the idiot that charged my card a free pass.
“If it helps, the room you were headed has two twins—”
“No, it doesn’t fuckin’ help that it has two twins,” I taunted. “But you’re lucky I’m fucking tired and don’t have time to argue. I’ll see you in a minute,” I addressed the hotel manager, before making sure Sierra got to her—which I guess was now our room.
“Josue, it was a simple mistake. There was no reason to pop a blood vessel over a clerical error.”
“Don’t take it personal kid, but you already take up half my space at home. Ain’t nobody trying to wake up to you snoring.”
“I do not snore,” she whined.
“Trust me Medina, sometimes, you do!” I teased.
Doing a walk back to the front desk, my refund was processed, adding in a complimentary 11 am check out time, that we wouldn’t even have the time to use because we had to be on the road again by 9.
Knocking on Sierra’s room door, she took her time coming to the door, peeling back the blinds to confirm before opening the door.