Tornado (18+)

2- Tez

The intermission music blares all around me in London's O2 arena, adding another layer of electricity to the atmosphere tonight. The adrenaline that's usually reserved for my own fights has consumed me during the latest offerings on the British roster, and now the main event on Fight Night is moments away and we have some of the best seats in the house. Cage-side.

The pretty blonde next to me, who I picked up in a bar before coming here, and who I'm fairly sure is called Sophia, links her arm in mine and leans against me. "So, Tornado, where are you taking me after here?"

I know exactly what she's expecting, just like others before her. These types of women loiter around the gyms and frequent the VIP sections of the 'in' nightclubs and bars. They make eye contact and give you small talk, then before you know it, you're having champagne and caviar for breakfast followed by a day of meaningless sex. And when she tires of your 'small-fame' arse, she trades you for a bigger and more famous fighter.

I glance down at her and brush my finger across her cheek. "I'm dropping you home. Alone."

Sophia's jaw hardens, her lips pout. I can see from her steely gaze she's pissed off with my answer, but I don't care. I'm only with her because I'm playing wingman to my best mate Fitz and he wants Sophia's friend.

"Seriously? We're not going to make a night out of this?"

I place my mouth at her ear and raise my voice so she can hear me because, in all fucking honesty, I'm only going to say this once. "Do you want to know what I did today?"

"Sure, why not."

"I buried a good friend of mine this morning, and after comforting his wife and young daughter for the best part of the day, I then drove two hours up the motorway to come here to let out some pent up aggression and get shit faced, just so I can forget, for a few hours, the pain and the gaping hole that his death has left. So, I apologize if I don't appear all that interested in ending the night with you bouncing up and down on my dick."

She drops my arm and takes a measured step backward; her face softens as she tucks some hair behind her ear and mouths the words I'm sorry. I watch her grab her handbag and jacket from the back of the chair then she turns to speak in her friend's ear who sits the other side of her with Fitz.

I can imagine she's already whining that tonight has been a waste of her time and how rude I am for leading her to believe that she may get more than just free alcohol and cage-side tickets to one of London's biggest fights of 2020. I don't bother to watch her leave, instead, I opt to refill my champagne glass and raise it towards the cage in a silent salute to the legend that was Billy Norwood.

My trainer, my confidant, and the only man that gave a fuck about me when it really mattered.

I sink it down in one and growl as a firm hand comes down on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, dude I thought you said you were cool with all this."

It's Fitz.

I refill my glass and turn to him with a smile. "I am. Billy would turn in his grave if he knew we hadn't come tonight. He lived and breathed the fighting world, you know that."

He drags his hand over his sandy-haired crew cut and nods. "I know, but I'm not talking about being here, I meant the girls."

I glance to our seats and see his bird is still there, watching Fitz intently, desire written all over her face. Sophia, as I suspected, is nowhere to be seen. The bright lights towards the back of the arena start to dim. "Listen, I'm always your wingman. Whatever you need I'm there. Sophia had her fair share of free drinks and food, now she'll move on to some other poor bugger, and I'm totally fucking cool with it."