A Fighter's Fight

Sebastian coughed a bit with the smoke in his face. He turned his head and spit out some blood that had gathered in his mouth. He was racking his brain on who was sitting near her and remembered the man that seemed slightly uncomfortable with his victory. The man with what had appeared to be a black toupee, cheap tan pinstripe suit and penny loafers. He looked back at the woman he now knew as Trinity and back toward the doors to his venue. The same man was now walking down the steps toward them. Over the raucous noise that the crowd was making, he heard the man speak to her.

“I don’t pay for you to smoke.”

The man's voice was very raspy, almost like he’d swallowed a pinecone. Sebastian noticed he was on his phone as he was walking, so his attention was elsewhere.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to pay you tonight.”

The words were bitter, and filled with hate.

Finally, the approaching male looked up and saw Sebastian standing there. The phone disappeared quickly, words tumbling out of the man's mouth about thousands of dollars, his car, his livelihood, and his wife of all things. The next second the man lifted a fist to Sebastian, lashing out towards his face, a punch that Sebastian easily dodged with a duck and followed up with a solid hit to the mans solar plexus that left the man gasping for breath on the damp ground.

He turned back to look at Trinity. “You’re here with him?”

His voice held a hint of laugher. Everyone around them had their phones out. No one was usually dumb enough to attack a fighter, especially a fighter who just won their match.

Sebastian shook his head, offered his ungloved hand to Trinity. “I’ll pay triple whatever he was paying you.”

Sebastian was ready to shower, change, and go home. His body was starting to tremble with pain. He needed to wash the sweat and blood from his body. Let the hot water wash off the disasters of the night and the pain of the fight. He needed to relax and get off his feet, too, let his muscles settle down because the pain was starting to get to him, his anger evident with the man withering on the ground at their feet. The same man was now wrenching. Vomit spewed from the man’s mouth. All Sebastian could do was shake his head. Looking back over at Trinity, he nodded his head toward the building. “I have to go change. If you want to follow me, you can. No expectations, no funny busy, I just want good company. There’s food, booze, and a really comfortable couch in my locker room.”

Sebastian dropped his hand to his side and headed back up the stairs, avoiding the pile of emesis that the man had projected onto the ground. People had their phones out. Sebastian had won, then beat up some random man who had tried to attack him, and invited a woman into his locker room, something that all his fans knew had never happened. Sebastian fought, changed, and left. He didn’t dilly dally, and didn’t waste time. The fans didn’t know why, but Sebastian had other fights he had to get to, fights that weren’t necessary legal or regulated—however, they paid enough money that he could live comfortably, take care of his mom, and save a little for when fights came to be slim. He spit once more, ejecting the blood from his mouth before pushing the doors open to the interior of the building.

Fighting the urge to look behind him to see if Trinity decided to come with him, he walked slowly enough that she’d be able to see him and where he was headed. There was a hallway that was off to the edge of the room, protected by two very large bouncers.

“If a short, dirty blonde wearing a black dress comes this way, show her to my locker room,” he said with a bloody smile, patting one of the big men on the shoulder as he passed by.

Walking the 25 feet down the hall, he pushed through a double door that opened into a very inviting room. A soft blue carpet padded the floor, the walls were whitewashed. Pushed up against the wall was a large microfiber couch with overstuffed cushions. A large television was mounted to the wall opposite the couch, and a table was full to overflowing with goodies. Fruit, sandwiches, cheese, meats, everything that anyone could ask for, and a small mini fridge that he knew was full of drinks; water, soda, alcohol of many choices.

Sebastian grabbed a water bottle, told his trainers to leave, and cracked the ring of the water, downing the bottle before the room had cleared out. A sigh escaped from his lips as he moved further into his locker room, stripping off his other glove, kicking off his ring shoes, and dropping his shorts with a crunch of dried blood on the floor. He stepped into the large shower. Blood that had caked into his hair washed down his body in rivers of pink that swirled at his feet. He leaned his head against the granite tile that encased the shower, the hot steaming jets of water beating against the bruises that adorned his body like Christmas lights in a snowbank. His body was clean, but the exhaustion had hit him so hard he couldn’t move as he allowed the water to drown the evidence of his battle.

Sebastian managed to turn the water off and he fell out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he quickly dried himself off. Throwing it over his shoulder he dragged his feet over to the mirror, grabbing a first aid kit to clean off the wound that was under his eye. He knocked his exhausted knee into the counter. Leaning against the counter, he popped open the first aid kit, his hands shaking so much that he could barely grab the Neosporin from the kit. He set the Neo on the counter along with two butterfly stitches. As he went back to reach for the hydrogen peroxide, he knocked the kit onto the floor. His body was trembling with pain as he tried to apply the Neosporin to his cheek. He didn’t even manage to press the butterflies to his cheek before stumbling out of the bathroom annex into the main room of his locker.