Chapter 6

Chris met Rory in the gym right after breakfast. It seemed Ella had been seduced by Sophie’s charms, and the girls were all going shopping with her this morning, so it was just the two of them.

“Tell me everything you know about Birney,” Chris said.

“His first name is Marcus, and he was a three-time state wrestling champion in high school. He was in the military, where he taught hand-to-hand combat, and he regularly kicks the ass of West, my gym owner’s son.”

“That makes Birney, what, 24 or 25?” Chris asked.

“I guess. West also told me that Marcus has an iron grip; that when he gets hold of you, you can’t get away.”

“That’s not uncommon with wrestlers. We’ll have to anticipate him grabbing your wrist to control at least one of your arms.”

“If he grabs them both, I’ll kick him in the balls,” Rory said, obviously joking.

“And you’ll get yourself disqualified or lose a point for that round.”

MMA awarded 10 points if you won a round and 9 or fewer if you lost it. If the round was a draw, the judge would award both fighters 10 points. The referees could deduct points for various reasons, including a kick or punch to the groin. If the foul was bad enough, the ref could call the fight in favor of your opponent. At the end of three rounds, the three judges added their points to declare a winner if there wasn’t a submission or knockout.

“I’m not going to win on points, so what does it matter?” Rory asked.

Chris thought for a moment before he said anything more.

“That’s not much to go on, which is probably good because that means he has no idea about you, either.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re a lefty, and you have a knack for putting your opponents on their ass with your punches. If I were Birney, I would assume you’re much less skilled than he is and would come after you right off the bat.”

“I could use his momentum against him to take him down,” Rory suggested.

“If he’s a wrestler, you’d be at a disadvantage if you took him to the mat. You need to turn the fight into more of a boxing match.”

“Don’t you think the nine fighters before me thought of that?” Rory asked with a smile.

“Absolutely. We give him what he expects to put him at ease.”

Rory’s smile got bigger.

“You have a plan.”

“I do. And we don’t have much time, so let’s start working on it,” Chris said.

Sophie found herself at Let it Bleed, her go-to shop for tattoos, piercings, and hairstyling, with the four girls and Summer. She was surprised when Summer tagged along until Ella explained that she’d promised to take them to the country club to try their lobster mac and cheese.

“My mom wouldn’t be happy if she knew we were here,” Mia worried.

Sophie had discovered that as the oldest of the four sisters, Mia was the good child who set the example.

“We’re going to get tattoos for Rory’s fight,” Sophie reminded them.

Clark, the owner, came out from the back.

“Hey, Fifi, nice to see you back. I have some new stuff you might like.”

“Call me that again and die,” Sophie all but growled.

Clark rolled his eyes and then spotted Summer.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous.”

Sophie thought Clark was a good-looking man if you liked your men covered in tattoos, which she did. He was probably about six feet tall with a fit build, but he was too old. Clark had to be at least thirty.

“She’s jailbait,” Sophie warned.

Clark gave her a look that said he didn’t care, but she knew he was just a flirt.

“My stepbrother, Rory, has an MMA fight, and we wanted to get temporary tattoos to show our support. He’s Irish, so I was thinking something like a four-leaf clover,” Sophie said to get Clark to focus on business.

“I take it you’re all Rory fans?” Clark asked the girls.

There was a general consensus that they were.

Rory was nervous when they pulled into the MGM for the weigh-in. Chris made him dress in his work clothes instead of the traditional boxing shorts.

“Why am I doing it this way?” Rory asked as they made their way to where the official prefight weigh-in would occur.

“It makes you look like a total newbie. I don’t even want you to take off your shoes. Just step up onto the scale when they ask you to.”

Rory rolled his eyes, but he was in no danger of not making weight, so he would go along with Chris’s plan to make him look like a total rookie. Technically, he was, but he’d been training for this for nearly ten years. Chris had worked him as hard as the older kids from day one, and Rory had loved it.

The gym allowed him to work out his natural aggression and kept him out of trouble. While he’d never lived in the safest (most affluent) part of Beverly, it was a better neighborhood than some in Chicago. There was still crime, but unlike other areas, you didn’t hear gunshots going off most nights.

That didn’t mean that learning to protect yourself wasn’t necessary. Rory suspected that most of the kids in Summerlin had never even been in a fight or robbed. In Chicago, those were a rite of passage.

Luckily for him, the rougher crowd had learned that targeting him was more trouble than it was worth. He might not win the fight and might lose his wallet, but they would have to earn it.

Chris had pointed all this out yesterday to remind Rory that while he was trained to be an MMA fighter, he was also a street fighter. On the other hand, Marcus Birney had been doing all his training and matches in a controlled environment. In wrestling, a referee would stop the fight if it looked like someone was going to get hurt. Even in the military, they wouldn’t allow their soldiers to be intentionally injured while training.

Rory was half-joking when he talked about nut-punching Birney if he had to. Chris wanted to portray Rory as a naïve, well-mannered boy from a privileged family, someone who thought of this fight as more of a lark than a serious bout.

When they reached the weigh-in room, one of the organizers pulled them aside and explained what would happen.

“You’ll go in the order of your bouts. We’ll do the weigh-in, and then you’ll each be given five minutes to answer questions from the press. That’ll be followed by a picture of you and Marcus.”

“Birney and Walsh” was called over the PA system.

“Let’s get this over with,” Rory said as he and Chris made their way to the front of the room.

A handful of photographers and reporters were on hand for the early weigh-ins. Later, for the main-event fighters, it would be packed.

Rory spotted Marcus Birney for the first time. He was a couple of inches shorter at maybe five-eight and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Marcus was up first, so he stripped down to his briefs, and Rory saw his body for the first time. Marcus was seriously ripped.

“One sixty-seven,” was called out.

Marcus flexed for the cameras to show off his toned body.

When it was Rory’s turn, he stepped on the scales with all his clothes on.

“One fifty-five.”

Rory smiled when they wanted his picture.

There was a table set up with two microphones. Rory and Marcus arrived at the table at the same time.

“After you, sir,” Rory said.

He glanced over at Chris, who’d almost laughed when he heard Rory say that. But Rory had to play the mild-mannered rich kid who was playing at doing MMA.

Marcus was first when answering questions. He spent most of his time recapping his exploits and plans to go pro after winning their match. Then Rory was up.

“What’s your background?”

“I just joined the gym that set up my fight this week. I’ve always watched MMA on TV and even have a video game with some sick moves. When I joined, I told them I wanted to get a match as soon as possible,” Rory said.

All of that was technically true, so Rory was comfortable with what he said.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Your opponent is ten years older and has nine matches under his belt. Aren’t you worried that you might get hurt?”

“I don’t expect Mr. Birney to rip out my spine. Besides, there’ll be a referee. If it gets too intense, I can always tap out,” Rory said, which caused the few reporters there to chuckle.

“I see your nickname is ‘One Punch.’ Do you plan to take down Birney with your first punch?”

“It beats the alternative,” Rory said.

“What’s that?”

“Letting Mr. Birney beat the stuffing out of me,” Rory said. “I got the inspiration from a Japanese graphic novel. There’s a character called ’One-Punch Man’. I patterned my video game character after him. I plan to use some of those moves to end the fight quickly.”

That caused everyone, even Marcus, to laugh. Everyone in the room had to believe Rory was going to get creamed.

When it was time for the picture where the two fighters traditionally gave each other their best intimidating stare, Rory instead looked startled. Raising his hands with his palms toward Marcus amused the crowd once again.

As they left, Chris was chuckling.

“I’m going to have to get that picture and make a poster for the gym.”

“You do, and I’ll one-punch you,” Rory threatened.

“You do, and I’ll rip your spine out,” Chris said, now laughing.

Rory couldn’t help joining in. He would never forget the look on Marcus’s face as he walked out, like the man felt sorry for what he planned to do to poor innocent Rory.

Summer was a bit nervous walking into the country club because they’d all gotten temporary tattoos. The tats showed a four-leaf clover in the center, with Rory on top and Walsh on the bottom. They’d also had their tips dyed green at Clark’s insistence.

They found Sean already seated at a large table.

“Did you mean to get that color?” he asked Summer when she sat down next to him.

“Bite me.”

His eyes got big when Sophie joined them. She’d had Clark shave a clover on the side of her head and dye all her hair green.

“What’s his problem?” Sophie asked.

“He’s jealous of our hair.”

“I bet he is,” Sophie said and then turned her attention to the girls. “You all want the mac and cheese?”

“I want a Coke,” Hannah, the youngest, announced.

“You know you’re not supposed to,” Grace said.

“This is a special occasion. You can have one,” Sophie said and then, when Mia looked disapprovingly at her, added, “Only one.”