Roses & Ruin

Chapter 20 (Anthony)

*Lexi: Fine. Better be worth the wait* she deadpanned, which made me chuckle. She's so straight forward sometimes. It's refreshing. I promised her it'd be worth the wait and Anthony Rizzo makes good on his promises.

-

        The underground was nice and packed tonight. That means good money for me. I warned the guys at the door that two women would be showing up, and to let them through with no hassle and without charging them to come in.

I watched my bookies taking bets and grabbing all kinds of money. Beer was being pumped and poured, then put into the hands of the next guy and the guy after him. It's always loud in here even before a fight starts. It has the echo a garage would have, but since it's mostly cemented in the sound doesn't carry too far outside this plot underground.

I saw the volunteer fighters being checked for weapons. Once they're cleared they line up at the back wall and people come look at them and pick who they're betting for.

        Not all the guys are fit guys. Plenty of them are huge dudes. Fat guys, scrawny guys, meatheads, lean muscled men. Fathers, brothers, uncles, and store clerks. All kinds of guys. It keeps the fights interesting. You never know who might surprise you.

A fat guy doesn't necessarily mean an out of shape guy. If he's agile or just knows how to fight well then you underestimate him and end up face down a minute into your shot at the circle.

A scrawny guy doesn't mean weak. If he's scrappy or fast he might do a one two and by three you're already facing the ceiling.

We certainly have some star fighters. Well known guys who people always think they wanna try to beat just to say they could. So many people wanna fight me. They wanna say they took Anthony Rizzo down, but they rarely ever do.

        Back when I was a kid I guess you could call me scrappy. I was always hanging around Enzo, Dom, and all kinds of those hot heads, and even though I'm the good time guy I was always down to have their back if things came to a blow.

And I realized I was good at it. I just have a heavy handed punch. I just do. But over time I crafted the skill of fighting. Not just scraps in the playground, but actual fighting techniques.

When my mother was being a piece of work, and my father was lord knows where busy being a made man, I would sneak off into the home gym we had in my big fancy house and I would blow off all kinds of steam.

I fought to forget. That's how my love for fighting started.

        "Aye, Rizzo! You fighting tonight?" I saw one of the regulars waving money in his hand to gain my attention. "I am. How much you putting on me?" I tipped my chin and smirked. He just cackled out a laugh, and his brown teeth showed through when he did.

This place smells like stale beer, sweat, and blood. And yet I love it. The screaming men packed in and hollering out in a constant movement of raised hands and pushing elbows. The cemented ground that holds stains like it holds memories.

Blood is shed by plenty until it just becomes a part of the place itself.

        The thick cement beams that hold up the ceiling and keep the integrity of this secret underground lot are graffitied on, or signed by those who've visited, won a big fight, or carries a big name.

My name is signed on that beam. On most of them. I've left my mark in more than one way here. This is my own creation. I built up this community of men and expanded the idea of an illegal fighting club. It's a huge success now and it's mine, no matter who tries taking a cut from it here and there.

This is the Underground. That's what it's called in the streets. You'd ask a guy, "You headed to the underground tonight?" and that's what he'd mean.

        I was in the midst of removing my shirt and wrapping my knuckles up street fighter style. That's another thing we have down here. Different kinds of fighting types. Bare knuckle fighting is brutal, but a real crowd pleaser. We have fights like this where you wrap your knuckles. Different weight class fights, or just pairings drawn at random kinds of fights.

I've been in bare knuckle fights before, but my usual is done this way. With the wraps, bare feet, no shirt. This isn't ufc or a professional fight. There is no guy rubbing vaseline on my face so the skin doesn't split.

Nah. Illegal fights want that. The blood shed. The raw uncensored brutality, and desire to be the last man standing. It all starts on a primal level. We are set to protect ourselves at all costs. If danger or threat, you must attack or retreat.

        When I felt a tap on my shoulder I figured it was another one of my regulars wanting to talk to me. To shake my hand or have fun talking a little shit with me. Instead I turned around and in the masses of ugly men a beautiful face split the crowd like the red sea.

Gorgeous green eyes and a genuine smile. She wasn't in the same outfit as what she'd worn earlier today. But she looked hot. She wore a crop tank and distressed jeans, but don't let the simple look fool you. It's all designer. Instead of a purse she had this cross bag almost like a fanny pack, but in a cute way.

I swear to god I didn't even see Sophia right there beside her. My eyes went straight to Mia and stayed there.

        "Hey" I finally heard Sophia's voice. It made me drag my eyes away from Mia for a second. "Hey Soph" I leaned over and gave her the side cheek kiss that all the Italaians do. And then I took advantage of that fact and did the same to Mia. She still smells like flowers. It's a good smell. Especially in the midst of this crowd.

"This looks intense" I heard Mia try to yell over the crowd. "I told you it probably wasn't your scene" I chuckled. "Well maybe I wanna change my scene" she shrugged. I eyed Sophia because I heard her snort.

"She's having a mid-life crisis. Ignore her" Sophia deadpanned. Mia gave her the eyes, and it was like the two had a conversation for a moment without words.

        "FIGHTERS ARE WE READY" the megaphone cut through the crowd to quiet people down a bit. All the fighters started jumping from foot to foot to get their muscles warmed up. "Oh gosh, I'm nervous for you" Mia cupped her face and looked up at me between them.

I smirked but said nothing. I won't brag. I'll just show her.

Sophia was in a next to nothing pair of distressed shorts and whatever fashion top and she threw an arm around her best friend and looked at me pointedly.

"You better win, Rizzo. I put money on you, and I'm not walking out empty handed" Sophia warned me. I chuckled and shook my head at her. "I'll do my best" I winked to her and Mia both. I saw them exchange eyes again, but I don't know why.

Before I motioned to walk away Mia quickly caught my forearm. "Hey, good luck," she told me. I nodded to her and started elbowing through the crowd to get to where the fighters mostly wait while fight after fight is dished out.

         I recognized the guy I was fighting. He was good. He's a Brazilian ufc fighter, so he knows what he's doing. I'll tell you that. I swear Enzo probably set this one up to give me a run for my money in front of Mia. He's around here somewhere, but I haven't seen him just yet. When we walked in together he walked right over to the betting tables.

He'll come find the girls though, once the fight starts.

What would Dom say if he knew Mia came out to see me tonight? He'd be livid. He'd throw a tantrum like I know he does. Scary tantrum, but that's what they are. His wild outbursts.

Feeling Mia's foxy eyes set on me gave me a cheap thrill. I dedicate this fight to Domani De Luca tonight. Every time I hit this Brazilian fighter I'll be thinking of him.

-

        Cheers, booing, laughter, hollering. All the fights started to play out one by one and I was up next on the roster. I hopped from foot to foot to get my blood pumping and rolled my shoulders back. I'm ready. I feel good. Light on my feet, heavy in the hands.

Precise blows are smarter than the messy throwing of a dozen fists. It tires you out and you only have half a chance at hurting your opponent enough to stop them or stun them. One precise punch can knock a man out.