Chapter 10 #3
If Sierra was nervous this time around, she was doing a good job at not showing it. She did a better job at protecting herself, and when she managed to grapple Natasha to the floor, the tides finally seemed to turn around. But still, it wasn’t enough for her to win.
She needed to know that I knew she could take this shit, and she wasn’t going to start fighting better if I didn’t deliver what I promised.
Standing up in my chair, I brought my hands to my mouth to amplify the sound of my next chant.
Then I howled. I howled like a wolf howls at the moon.
Howled in the way that helped them communicate with their pack.
The only way I knew how to let her know I was watching.
To my surprise, Hector started in the howling too, and before I knew it, half the crowd had joined us. Maybe I’d been wrong that in thinking she hadn’t swayed the audience. In a transformative performance, the girl moved with a different kind of power. Fighting hard and keeping her opponent back.
Sierra faked a swing leaving her challenger open as one hard punch to the jaw sent her staggering to the ground. The ref checked on her, giving her the grace period to rejoin the fight but as she struggled to stand, the ref blew his whistle.
“Sierra “La Loba*” Medina wins by clean knockout.” Pandemonium broke out, the crowd going wild with their cries and cheers.
The chant of her stage name La Loba* filled the packed arena, a sure sign that she’d won over the reluctant crowd.
The referee lifted her arm to the sky, her expression smug and stunned.
I knew that look. She was still registering that she’d won.
“Give it up for our newwwwwww champion.”
***
As I cut away the gauze that shielded her hands, Héctor did his best to clean up her face to stop the swelling.
“Medina, say something. How do you feel?”
“I don't know,” she gushed.
“You know,” I challenged through a grin.
“I wasn't sure I had it in me.”
“I knew you had it in you,” I reassured, with a caress to her forehead. “You did good.”
In an instant, tears started forming in her eyes but with one curt look, I shut that shit down quick. “Eh, don’t you start with that? What did I say? No fuckin’ crying.”
“I know,” she sobbed, barely getting her words out as she wiped her running nose.
“It's just I've never known what it was like to have someone believe in me. For so long, it's only ever been me believing in myself. But sometimes that's not enough.”
“Well, it was enough tonight—”
“No, I'm being serious. You were really hard on me, and I know it's because you want to see the best of me. You didn't even want to train a woman. So, I thought you would remember why you didn't want to take me seriously. I was half expecting you wanting me to fail to prove your point.”
“So, what changed?” Sierra beamed, and even though she was still a little puffy, it lit up her face.
“When you started howling. Then the crowd started howling,” she gushed.
“Wasn't that shit fucking amazing?” I agreed.
“Yeah. At first I thought people were making fun of me, but you told me you'd let me know you were watching. And then I knew, that the crowd was cheering for me.”
“Honestly, when I started, I didn't even think it'd catch on.”
“Yeah, that shit was fucking sick,” Héctor agreed.
“So, when half the crowd started hollering, I was like, this better fucking stick, because it’s fucking A to know when you could physically see when you won the crowd over.”
“That's when I knew I had it in me to win.”
“I was talking to a matchmaker right before the fight, I was gonna try to get you 3k for your next fight, but you gave such a hell of a switch up, I'm sure I could convince you're worth five. Ay, por díos*! You had me worried.” It finally sinking in that she had won, and that I'd help her get her there.
Caressing her hair, I soothed her nerves.
“Alright, let's give you one to two weeks to heal up.”
“One to two weeks?” she whined. “I'm ready for another fight.”
“We need you at full strength before I can even think about your next fight. Take the break, you earned it after all that hard work. My God, that was amazing.” She hugged her opposite arm.
“I know you don't do hugs—” Her stance uncomfortable.
“Medina, tonight, my fighter wants a hug—” I said, reaching off the table and taking her in for a tight embrace. “My winner gets a fuckin’ hug!” Sierra had given it her all, but still managed to have something to give, pressing her body to mine.
Sometimes I had to remind myself that while she had that wolf in her, I really had to lean in just to get her into my arms. She was strong, but delicate.
Headstrong, but equally fragile. She was the high I was chasing right now.
For her. For me. And if I were smart about this, the closest we would ever become as a coach and fighter.
***
Walking through the duplexes’ front door, I sat a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, curious as to why it was so quiet in the house. I casually roamed, stopping when I found Sierra in the den heavy at work on another one of her Lego sets. I got her some Lord of The Rings shit this time.
She was taking a resting period in stride, but I knew she was a little bored, given training had taken up so much of her time.
She didn't know what to do with herself. Trying to balance a plate of rice and fried eggs over her lap and clicking pieces onto complimentary pieces, she looked really fuckin’ cute.
“You good kid?” She looked up finally noticing me, and nodded through big, curious eyes.
“Other than the fact that you don't have any ketchup,” she nodded, and I could barely hold another laugh before declaring between the eggs, rice, and need for ketchup, that she was the most Puerto Rican thing in this house.
“What? I need protein!”
“So, you needed that whole plate of white rice?”
“I mean, I need energy too. It's a good thing I'm not training. My shoulder’s a little sore. So, a week off feels really nice. I'm just bored.”
“Need me to knead that for you?”
“Okay,” she said, putting down her half-eaten plate, as she stretched out on the lounger nearby. Straddling her, it was hard being in perfect view of her flawless ass as she stripped down to her sports bra.
“You do have a lot of tension,” I noted, massaging the corner of her shoulder as I admired her strong back, smooth brown skin, and sexy tattoos.
In my day, it was a big fucking deal for a woman to have a hidden one, let it on a dozen visible ones.
It was actually kind of dope women her age did things with less fear or shame.
There was really no wrong type of body for tatts, but I'd be lying if I said they didn't suit her.
“Mmm… that feels better.”
“Better?”
“Mmmhmm…”
“I know I didn't really say it in words the other day, but I'm so fucking proud of you.
“Shut up!”
“I'm being genuine for once. Por díos*! I'm trying to tell you that you took natural talent and turned it into something useful. A lot of folks don't have to drive to see something through, especially this taxing. You've come a long way. I hope you're proud of yourself.”
“I like that you're proud of me.”
“You like that I'm proud of you?”
“I mean, anyone could be happy for me. Proud of me. But I had to earn your respect. Most trainers that have offered to train me, I don't think they truly believe I had it what it took. I know I was hard headed, but thank you for not giving up on me. Everyone so far has given up on me.”
“Kid, first rule of thumb is never give up on yourself. You do that, and you'll soar. Counting yourself out before you start is like admitting defeat from the jump. And we've got a streak to protect. I'm getting so many calls about you, it's not even funny—”
“Seriously?” she leaned up.
“Do you want me to fix this shoulder or not?” I challenged, as she lowered her chest back down to the larger surface. “I want you to go to distance, kid.”
“One day you're gonna realize I'm twenty-six and stop calling me kid.”
“Sierra, it’s nothing personal. I call everyone younger than me kid,” I joked. “Do you want me to stop?”
She hesitated until she decided on, “No. It's just funny being called that when I'm literally a—” She stopped herself, leaving me in suspense about what she was going to confess.
“You know why else I call you, kid?”
“Why?”
“Because of all that fucking whining,” I joked. “I'm tired. My feet hurt. I can't do this anymore. See what happens when I push you?”
“I guess.”
“If you guess, I guess you all good with your shoulder then, huh?”
“No, please. I like it when you touch me.”
“So, what do you say?”
“I'm better when you push me,” she mumbled. Cupping my hand around my ear, I leaned in.
“?Qué*?”
“I said, I’m better when you push me! I'm not gonna stop whining, though.”
“Figured as much,” I laughed, fixating on that I like it when you touch me comment. If only she only knew that I liked touching her too.
* A swear like Fuck! Or Dammit! Especially in Cuban slang
* Many contexts, but like asking “What?”
* Oh my God!
* Please, but in a annoyed way
* Female wolf
* Remember?
* You understand me?
* You’re the she wolf
* Most commonly used a bitch, but has many meanings, all derogatory
* Hear me?
* She wolf
* She wolf
* Oh my God
* For God’s Sake/For the love of God
* What?