Authors: Sarah Sparrows
Cage (10 page)
Chapter 12 – Sawyer
Pennsylvania, Three ½ Years Ago
Pensacola was a completely different place without
wealth. Sure, my father and I had come down here a couple of times to enjoy the
Beach House, and that happened more often when my family grew. But we had
always gotten by with the help of private drivers, exquisite dinners, and
enjoying just about anything we could have wanted.
My first night back in town,
however, was about as far as I could get from the old memories. I had the cage
in my blood, and I needed to find my way in a new city. They say if you go out
looking for a fight, you’re gonna find one… I went looking for Darren.
He
was a fighter I’d met back in New Orleans, one of the few people in this world
I considered a friend. We hit it off right away.
Maybe
better to say we ended up beating the hell out of each other in the cage right
up until I blacked out. When it was all said and done he bought me a shitty
beer and shook my hand. Told me I was one tough son of a bitch. I spent most of
the night thinking through every move he’d made, playing them over in my head
again and again. Next time we fought, I was ready. I had every counter planned
out like a game of chess. The joke was on me when he changed things up and
played the ground and pound. Yeah, they say I won that fight, but I sure as
hell don’t remember it.
Darren
headed to Florida awhile back and left me a number if I ever ended up out his
way. Turned out, I didn’t really need it. A few dive bars into the night and I
had a pretty good idea of where the action was, and sure enough, I found Darren
right at the center of it. Few days later, we were already making plans. Darren
had a friend who wanted to start up some little cage fighting operation, and as
it turned out, his idea of ‘plans’ meant he’d already bought the building.
“So much for consulting,” I chuckled to Darren, who looked none too
pleased.
Luke picked us up in a piece of
crap Jeep Wrangler, driving us along the city towards his newly-bought gym.
This was to double as home for the foreseeable future. The instant that Luke
found out that I was a fighter, he insisted on offering me makeshift accommodations
in the back. Given that I hadn’t quite figured that angle out yet, I cautiously
agreed.
While Darren and his friend Luke
caught up on a pair of fold-out chairs in a half-filled fitness center, I sat
cross-legged and scarfed down a microwaved TV dinner – just another day
in paradise.
Tonight’s main course: a pile of chicken fingers that could fit in half
my palm, a dollop of processed mashed potatoes, a scoop of corn, and whatever
passed for a shrunken chocolate brownie.
“So, this is what you really want to spend your inheritance on, man?”
Darren asked, glancing around the small gym. “I mean, yeah, you got a good deal
on the place…but this is gonna need a
lot
of work, and that’s just in the remodeling…”
“Yeah, man!” Luke looked wild. With the long dreads, the weak puff of a
moustache, the goatee, and the thin, lanky build, he looked like he had never
stepped foot within a quarter mile of a gym. But what you had to look for were
the eyes – he had those crazy, passionate eyes that told you that everything
he said came straight from the heart.
“I don’t care for any of that fighting bullshit myself,” he continued,
“but hot damn do I love
watching
it.
I’ve already paid for this place…all I need is to do a few quick fixes, hire
some guys, and really get the word out, man! This place is gonna be
great!
”
Darren and I shared a look.
“What do you think, Sawyer?”
I chewed another tasteless bite of dinner. “I don’t know…it’s a
fixer-upper for sure…but who knows? If passion alone made the world turn, I’d probably
put this guy in charge of it.”
“Hell yeah, buddy!” Luke jumped up excitedly. “Look, I know some
contractors. I’ve already talked to them and worked out a good deal. Couple of
them wanna be our first customers. Give me a week or two to get this shithole
up to the Luke standard, and we’ll be in business. I’ve even got some buddies
lined up to be personal trainers!”
Darren opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself.
“You know,” I spoke after swallowing a dry chunk of brownie, “Darren
said something about cage fighting when he told me about all of this. This
looks more like a Planet Fitness than a cage fighting ring…”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a bit of both,” he answered. “You see, I’m gonna
have a ring built
there
,” he pointed
into the back of the room. Then I’ll have all this other stuff moved over
there
,” he pointed against the far wall.
“And for right
here
,” he indicated
where we were all sitting, “I’m just gonna have some mats and make it a
sparring spot. What do ya guys think?”
Darren exhaled with wide eyes, glancing in my direction again. “I mean,
I can help you set this place up as a proper gym, if that’s what you want. I
was a personal trainer, and I can verify whoever you’re hiring – make
sure that they aren’t pulling your leg, and that they won’t scare off your
customers. If you want results, I’ll
get
you
results. But the cage fighting thing… I’ve been out of the cage for awhile
now…”
Luke followed his
gaze towards me, looking expectantly. Apparently, Darren had already filled him
in on my street fighting.
“Alright, here’s
what’s gonna happen. You follow this guy to the T,” I jabbed a thumb at Darren.
“Everything he says? Do it. If he says your buddies are a bunch of crap, don’t
hire them. Period.”
“But I already offered
them–”
“No. If they don’t pass, they don’t pass. As for the
cage fighting,” I turned towards the back, where he’d indicated the ring.
During my stints away from “home” while fighting for Gary, I’d seen a few
professional setups – and I knew how far they’d go for image. If this guy
really had the resources to do this right, he was going to have to use them.
“You aren’t throwing a square of fence up and calling
it a day. You want a raised platform, soft floor. Something that won’t break a
bone on impact, but can withstand a big guy hitting it with all his weight –
same goes for the enclosure. A strong, taut fence all around it, about two feet
taller than Darren. Thick padding along the top, good against injuries. Small
set of stairs leading up to it. You’re gonna want it…” I thought for a moment,
mentally measuring out the best use of the area, “thirty-five, maybe forty feet
across. Lights above, facing down – something professional. When these fights
happen, you’ll want the place dark, all the attention on the ring. That way,
the fighters don’t get distracted, and all eyes are on them.”
Darren and Luke watched me carefully as I spoke.
Although both of them were a few years older than me, they seemed to respect my
insight. If they wanted to be part of my world, I was happy to put my knowledge
to good use.
“How often do we do these fights?” Luke asked.
“The market dictates,” I answered. “You want my advice?
Start on once every two weeks. Measure the turnout. If you can get the word out
like you say…then it’ll be up to the fighters to put on a good match. When it’s
clear that you’ve got a core audience, expand it. Once a week.”
“Which day?” Luke chimed in, enraptured.
“Weekdays are off-limits. Everybody’s tired, nobody’s
gonna want to come see a pair of guys slap each other around. Friday’s
might
work, but you’ll lose folks who
have the wife and kids. Your best bet is either Saturday or Sunday. Sunday
could work – one last hurrah in the weekend. But I’m thinking Saturday.”
“Lots of stuff happens on Saturdays,” Luke responded.
“So what? Make your thing the
hottest
Saturday thing in town. You do that…” I jabbed my finger at
him, “and you’ll worry less about breaking even and more about spending that
money.”
Luke nodded
thoughtfully, turning to Darren.
“Yo, this guy. Where
the fuck did you
find
this guy?”
Pensacola, Present Day
“Luke, you around? I’ve got a
surprise…”
We stood in entrance to Luke’s fighting gym,
New Horizons Fitness Center
. I’d never
taken to the name – a little too New Age for my tastes, honestly –
but I couldn’t help but admit that he’d kept the place in great shape since I’d
left Pensacola.
Despite the laughable name, the interior was actually
pretty badass. Leaving the walls white meant that Luke could pick a pretty
hardcore color combination for everything else, and he had settled on red and
black – classic renegade. He’d even slapped a fresh coat of paint across
the walls in the meantime, just to freshen everything up.
The walls stayed white, but he’d had some painters come
in and slap black across the ceiling – making the place somehow seem
wider
, which helped the visuals.
Meanwhile, the pads were all red, the fitness gear (besides the weights) was
all the standard black metal, and the cage…
I couldn’t help but gaze at the beautiful cage. Luke
had followed my instructions to the dotted line and spared no expense to build
one of the most beautiful cages I’d ever seen. Tracklighting hung above the
wide ring, a forty-foot wide octagon of black fencing
that was trimmed with thick red padding
across the top and lining the brawl floor. Everything else about it was black
– the stairs, the platform walls, even the popping logo for the gym
across the center of the ring.
The cage absolutely
dominated
the back of the gym.
He hadn’t changed a thing about it, and either he’d
replaced a few things or kept it as pristine as the day it was fresh. I
remembered how he insisted on cleaning it after every brawl himself –
which was no easy feat, given the chain-link approach to the walls.
I heard some scuffling from out of sight, and a door
popped open. Lights flicked on across the ceiling in a wave, staggering the
illumination of the ceiling rows until we were bathed in light.
“Darren! Great to see you, man!
What brings you…here…”
He paused, rubbing his eyes as he walked towards us.
Luke looked visibly a few years older and chronically tired, but he was still
classic Luke – dreadlocks and all.
“Whoa, whoa,
whoa
,”
he exclaimed, peering at me like I was a ghost. “God
damn
, is that the
Bonesaw?
I thought I’d never see you again, you son of a bitch!”
He stabbed his hand out, and I shook it with a smile.
“Glad to see you’ve kept the place together, man,” I glanced around again.
“Looks to be in top shape, too.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Luke grinned sheepishly.
“I just can’t let the old place die on me, now, can I?” He turned to Darren
with his trademarked crazy, wide eyes. “Where the fuck did you
find
this guy?”
“He’s back in town for a little while,” Darren
answered, deferring the details to me.
“No shit?”
“Couple of months, maybe. I’m not staying.” I
continued.
“Awesome news, man. Awesome news.”
It was apparent that he was holding just shy of begging
me to come back to the gym, but luckily for Luke, I was already favorable to a
few appearances.
“I was thinking…” I started, deciding for the last time
if I was going to go through with it. “Think you’ve got some room to fit me
into the roster?”
“Into the…?” Luke started, weighing the words. Knowing
him, he was just making sure he’d heard me right. “What, you wanna fight in the
cage again?
Here?
”
“No point in getting stale, I figure,” I conceded.
“I’ll need something to keep me busy, after all. Is there room in the cage for
an old friend?”
“Holy shit,
YES!
”
Luke was beside himself. “Fuck yeah! That’s exactly the kind of thing this
place needs to get back on top. I’m not gonna lie, shit’s been a little dry
around here lately…I’ve got enough to keep this place going another six months
or so, then that’s all she wrote. But with your name on a couple of
Saturdays…wow. Yeah, when do you wanna start?”
“Haven’t given it any thought. Not tomorrow,
obviously…maybe a few weeks from now. I’ll pop by and watch, see how it goes,
and I’ll train in the meantime.”
“Goddamn, you were a fucking miracle before, and you’ve
gone and done it again.” As tired as Luke had looked before, I could barely see
it now. He must have been exhausted, trying to figure out how to hold the gym
together, and with a classic contender in the ring…from his perspective, things
were looking up. “And it’s not just that you used to fight here. I’ve been
keepin’ an eye on you, man. You’re a legend in the underground cage fighting
scene, you know that, right?”
“It’s crossed my mind,” I replied.
“You dropped off the face of the earth a month ago,
man! Nobody knew what happened to you! I mean, it’s not uncommon for a fighter
to hang
tight for a few weeks or anything, but you disappeared off of social media and
everything
, man! People out there think
you’re dead! There was some rumblings… You know… Out of New Orleans…”
“That’s a bit extreme,” I replied.
Darren seemed to agree, but not with me. “It’s true. Hell, even
I
thought that something had happened to
you. I know we haven’t kept much in contact since Rio, but if it had been
another week or two…I was starting to get kind of worried.”
“You’ve got fans, man!” Luke chided me. “I mean, fifty-five thousand
people on your Twitter ain’t exactly nothing.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me to log into the damned thing for ages. I
didn’t enjoy the marketing aspect, but I’d been convinced to just start up an
account and post something
for the fans
from
time to time. My fighting name started popping up in articles a month later
– I didn’t give a rat’s ass about sounding like the toughest asshole on
the planet, so I just posted whatever came to mind. Other underground fighters
had a Facebook account. Some had Twitter, but they usually posted this super macho
bullshit. Nobody in my industry was The Rock, being the cool, fan-friendly
professional to the fans. They never did the selfies with their beloved
audience. I didn’t go
that
far, but I
treated them with respect and dignity, and through 140 characters every once in
a while, I gave them insight into the way I saw things.
Well,
some
insight.
I hadn’t realized how much the fans ate that up. From a lowly couple of
dozen followers, it had flown up well into the thousands over the couple of
years I’d been using the thing – unexpected, a little flattering, but
overall not my chief concern.
Of course, I was just “Bonesaw” to them – the name that
they’d given me when I was just starting out here at Luke’s gym. Nobody outside
of close friends knew my real name, and I intended on keeping it that way. The
last thing I’d wanted was for my family or friends from the past to figure it
all out. Back then I’d shaved my head and thrown on the darkest pair of
aviators I could find. It was about as good a disguise as I could bother with,
besides, if you’ve seen one cage fighter you’ve seen them all. I wasn’t too
worried about being recognized. I just wanted to fight. I didn’t need anybody
complicating things for me.
“I’ll make an announcement on Twitter,” I decided. “About time I let the
fans now.
Bonesaw, going toe-to-toe in
the New Horizons cage. Sunny Pensacola.
That should be pretty good for
business, right?”
“I’d kiss you, man,” Luke grinned as wide as his face could go.
“That’s…not going to be chiefly necessary.”
“Would you settle for a quarter of the pot? Regardless of win?”
“Screw the money,” I told him. “I’m in good hands right now. Just keep
this place going a few months longer.”
Darren crossed his arms, watching me with an interested glance. He knew
that I was always in it for the cash, and no question such an out-of-character
moment was suspicious…but he didn’t say anything.
“Man, they say 24 hours can make shit pull a 180,” Luke chuckled.
“Horrible to awesome in a day. But every time you show up in my life…you pull
it off in 20 minutes, man!”
A feeling of dread overcame me.
What happens when that stops?