Asking that question is a matter of formality, as I know the answer, and it will beyes. Nearly any coach at a gym like this—looking for their break—will take me.
But I’m not a gloater.
Andrew laughs, pulling on the skin around his mouth with his index finger and thumb. He stares at the wall adjacent to us with the gym logo on it—a gray rhino with a bright orange horn. Andrew looks back at me. “You’re shitting me. I mean, I know you’re not or else you wouldn’t be here, but this is a fucking dream come true. I can always make room for you as long as you’re not seriously damaged or something.”
I pivot in my seat and look around. “No damning injury. Except for my fucking shoulder, from when I competed. But I can fight. Just need extra attention on it.”
A fighter walks by the front of the building in the parking lot, waving through the window that still has the blinds open. His voice is muffled but understandable. “Yo, Ryder! Big fan, man!”
“Mm,” I grunt.
Andrew smacks the window. “Go on, you can ask for an autograph later!” He grabs the lift cord of the blinds and closes them with a snap of the wrist. “Sorry about that.”
I lean back, sniffing as I look around the blank room. “It’s alright.”
“So I see you’re still sporting the brooding fighter image.”
“I’m not here to be anyone’s friend if that’s what you’re implying.”
“You can still be polite to fans,” Andrew counters.
“Hasn't held me back so far. It’s just business.”
“Alright. Not a big deal. Good for the image, I suppose.”
I lick my lips and add, “I know how to toe the line if you’re concerned. I’m not an asshole. I justactlike one because everyone annoys me. When it’s necessary, I can keep myself in check. I just want the money for now, man. Extra press, interviews… not for me. I want to get in and win. Can you handle that?”
Andrew's hesitant at first, yet doesn’t seem surprised by my request.
“Whether we become friends or not,” Andrew begins, leaning forward on the dusty table. “We’re going to have to get to know each other. I can’t train you if I don’t know you.”
Nodding, I pull my cotton zip-up jacket together as I cross my hands in my lap. The sound of fighting kicks back up in the gym, invigorating a part of me that’ll never die, and in that, I almost feel at home. “Fair deal.”
Andrew smacks his hand on the table. He gives an apologetic, fake laugh. “Look, I don’t really know how to segue properly here. You know how big of a deal this is. You seem like a guy who likes to jump right into it, so let’s get these questions going, shall we?”
“Start asking.”
“Where did you go for three years? Gonna need to know your story before writing up contracts.”
“It’s personal. Let’s just say it wasn’t because of my injury.”
Andrew takes down notes, popping the butt of the pen with his thumb before the tip of it scratches the notepad. It’s the only sound in the room. “Got it. So why come back? Why are you fighting again?”
“I need the money.”
“You know you can just get back in the ring and start throwing punches. You’ll easily fetch for, I don’t know, off the top of my head—a fuck-ton, let’s say—in each fight, probably even more once your momentum is back. Not saying you won’t win Warlord, but it’s a huge risk and a lot of time for potentially no reward.”
I shake my head, thumbing the wadded-up straw paper covering I still have in my pocket from when I’d ordered a smoothie earlier—one of my last treats before going back on a strict diet. “Nah, that shit requires management, campaigns, and patience. I just want to enter Warlord, get my money, and settle things that need to be settled.”
“And if Warlord fails?”
“Then Iwillget back into fighting professionally. I’d prefer to only do Warlord. Especially since the winner gets most of the check.”
Andrew nods, looking down at the paper before asking, “What figures you looking at keeping?”
It’s an odd question since, in the world of MMA, the fighter notoriously gets the short end of the stick when it comes to the winnings.
That’s why Warlord is so appealing—the fighter takes home the pot of gold. Usually, it’s the coaches that do. “We can arrange a contract that gives you a good paycheck. I’m not worried about that. You’ll be compensated if I win.”
