Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

hit the octagon. It’s quiet, just a few guys working at the heavy bags a dozen yards away.

“The key is to avoid this motherfucker’s jaw like a two-dollar hooker,” he says, then cringes. “Sorry, bad joke.”

I shake my head, thinking I may just have to slide one solid punch in during this training session.

“Right, I know that, fuckwad. What I want to know is how the hell do I keep from flippin’ the switch on his ass when he punches me?”

“Easy. Submissions. Take him to the ground and lock him down. Milk the clock until the ref breaks it up.”

That’s not a bad idea. If I can get him in a solid hold where he can’t get the ground and pound, I should be able to buy some time.

“That might work. Let’s work on some submissions that keep his fists away from my face.”

Blake nods.

Without time on our side, we get to it. Modifying a few key holds isn’t easy, but we manage to come up with a couple strategies. A few take-downs and pinning techniques will help, but I’m going to need more.

“I need to go at least three rounds, and I can’t just sit on the mat holdin’ him like a newborn baby. The fans are expecting some stand-up. If I keep my punches to body shots during the stand-up, that should help.”

Blake shakes his head. “Yeah, until he strikes back and hits you hard enough to bring out the beast, but not knock you out! I’m telling you I’ve seen you fight. You need to stay grounded as much as possible. Protect your head, and keep that fine piece of ass in the forefront of your mind. Then, pray for a miracle.”

And now, I remember why I’m friends with Blake.

After a couple hours of training, I hear a voice call my name. I peer through the octagon chain link to see Taylor Gibbs, the owner of the UFL. He’s in his usual dark suit, wearing his usual schooled expression.

“Taylor. What’s up?”

“Need a word with you in my office when you’re done.”

“Give me five.”

He nods and walks away.

I turn to Blake. “You know what this is about?”

Blake looks at the space Taylor recently vacated then back to me. “No clue.” He shrugs.

We make plans to continue training tomorrow, and I head to Taylor’s office.

He probably wants to talk to me about the fight, but I feel like a kid called to the principal’s office. There’s no way he could know about my deal with Dominick. Dominick isn’t stupid enough to go flapping his gums. Blake and Raven are the only other ones that know. Blake seemed just as caught off guard as I was, and Raven, well, there’s no way she’s talking.

His no-good assistant isn’t at her desk, so I walk in his office without knocking. It’s an asshole thing to do, but I don’t have the patience for social politeness.

Taylor looks up from his computer screen. “Jonah, have a seat.”

I stay standing. “What’s this about?”

He lifts his eyebrows and nods to the chair in front of me. I sit.

“We just signed a deal for a joint campaign with the female MMA fighting league.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with me?”

“Not much, just a few cross promotions, photo shoots, magazine covers—stuff like that.”

I nod. It’s not uncommon that the UFL use me for promotional shit. I still don’t see why this warrants a visit to the boss’s office.

“I’m going to need you to be seen with their headlining fighter, Camille Fisher. Won’t be much, just the pre-fight formal dinner, and we’ll get her seats by your corner for the title fight. After that, a few sightings out at the clubs ought to do it.”

Pretending to date a girl I don’t even know so that the suits can pull off a campaign? Hell no.

“No. I’m not doing that.”

His eyes narrow and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “No? Why not.”

“I’m dating someone. I’ll be bringing her to the formal dinner, and she’ll have my seats at the fight.”

With a chuckle, he leans back into his chair, relaxed. “That it? Surely a few dates with another girl won’t bother her. Tell her it’s for work. Besides, have you seen Camille? She’s hot. I’m doing you a favor, my friend.”

What kind of man does he think I am? The kind that fucks girls whose names he doesn’t know without a second thought. Not anymore.

“Look, Taylor, I want to help you out. I’ll do photo shoots, press junkets, whatever, but I’m not cheating on my girl even if it’s staged for publicity. Have Del Toro do it.”

“She doesn’t want Del Toro. She’s requested you personally.”

I shake my head, completely solid, unwavering.

“Who’s this girl who’s got you by the balls?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

My head tilts slightly as I fix my stare on him. “Don’t see how that’s your business.”

“You’ve been fighting for me for eight years, and I’ve never even heard a rumor about you getting serious with a girl. Now, just weeks before your title fight, a fight that is going to make me a lot of money, you get serious?”

I shrug. Where in the hell is he going with this?

“No bullshit, I’m worried. I need you on your game, no distractions. I think it’s in the best interest of the organization for you to put your relationship on hold until after the fight.”

I sit forward, leaning one elbow on my knee. This guy’s got his head shoved up his own ass if he thinks I’d give up Raven to please him.

“Haven’t had a dad since I was twelve, Taylor. Managed to make it this far without one. Don’t need one now.”

“I’m not speaking as a parent, Jonah. I’m speaking as your boss.”

“Don’t remember seeing you dictating who I date in my contract.”

“I can’t force you, but I can advise you.”

“Consider me advised. We done?”

“No. Don’t forget about the press conference.”

“That’s what I have a publicist for. Now, we done?”

He studies my face for a few