Octagon Girl and Championship Dreams (Closed for Wildbill2015)

[CarnivalBarker]

Cassidy Blaine woke up sore, as she rolled over and hit the alarm, cutting it off immediately before turning to her back again and throwing her arm over her eyes. The light outside had not yet erupted across the sky or into her bedroom window, and once again she wondered exactly why she was up this early a few moments before wondering if she really wanted to do what she was doing. Three years ago, she had been approached, just a girl in the mall, by a guy who introduced himself as a promoter looking for girls to make a few bucks on weekends holding up ring announcements at local fights each Friday and Saturday. She had spent years running and even lifting weights, and her body was firm, toned, and exactly what crowds at these fights enjoyed, even for the few seconds it took her to walk across a ring. And while she sounded skeptical at first, she called the man who quickly hired her and, after earning $200 the first weekend, dropped any hesitation she had.

The fights caught her attention too. She was not any sort of fighter herself, but the men inside the ring were warriors. The guys in the octagon, when the promoter handled MMA events, were even more violent. They trained hard, always worked harder than anyone else, and as they warmed up each night, exhibited a power she could appreciate up close. It was an exotic mix. By age 19, Cassidy had grown intoxicated with the fight circuit and she found work at larger and larger events. She began dating James "Dagger" Linwood, a Boston fighter with a propensity for injuring his opponent and a thick southie accent she couldn't resist. The relationship proved hot, and volatile, and to date, it had been both the best and the worst she had ever had. Six years older than her, Linwood knew exactly what he liked and what he liked was to ravish much younger, innocent girls like herself. And while he satisfied her in the bedroom, he could be abusive out of it and worse, she learned she was not the only filly in his stable. It was then that she split with him and hired an agent, focusing instead on a career of her own that featured modeling, work as a UFC ring girl, and eventually a local, east coast D-list celebrity.

As a ring girl for UFC 175 she was fortunate to be photographed in a shot with the new women's champion, Ronda Rousey. The picture was a crowd shot and as Cassidy stepped from the ring and along the front row, Rousey's eyes followed her and she cast a judgmental, perhaps even hateful look in Cassidy's direction. The fight blogs and magazine's picked it up and ran it, and stories popped up on the internet and throughout the community suggesting there was some bad blood, jealousy, lust, or perhaps simple hatred, any and all for reasons unknown, between the two girls. Surely, this young girl, unknown to the world, had done something to piss off Ronda. What was it? What could it possibly be? The truth was, nothing. But the effect was to thrust her into a spotlight she had never before seen, and people noticed. Months later, amidst the underground buzz of a fan base fired up for new meat, she was approached by a promoter.

"What do you think of fighting?" He had asked. At first, she was skeptical, but the thought nagged at her over time. "I could get you a promotional deal, get you trained. We can get you a few fights against easy opponents, build some hype, put a lot of money in your pocket," he had said. "If you want." She didn't. But the promoter kept at her. "Look," he had said. "You're the perfect mix of sex and, with the right training, power. I can get you in the game and I can make you big." By that time, she was struggling to pay rent and wondering what her future held, if anything beyond being ogled by men who paid $27 to watch guys fight each other. She thought about it and consulted with her family. Her brother had been a wrestler in college and had fought as an amateur. He offered to help her train. Nobody discouraged her. By her twenty-first birthday, Cassidy had entered the arena.

Now, three years later, training was taking its toll each day. Her muscles ached and required an hour of yoga most days just to get moving. She had never been so bruised and injured in her life. The injuries were typically nagging, nothing serious. But each day her body erupted with sensations until she stretched and got into the gym. She loved wrapping her hands, a peaceful, quiet time before sparring or grappling. She loved unwrapping them at the end of training, a signal that the job had been done for that day. She had not expected six to eight hour training days, nor the body that such days created. And when she had off days and time to relax, she truly felt great.

At 3-0 the fight game had come to her slowly. And while the first promoter had gotten her in the game as he promised, their relationship did not last long, and she signed with a larger media management and consulting group. But she still had a lot to learn. She had gained some victories and a following, and her confidence soared. Her fans began calling for a title shot. No way was she ready for that, and she knew it. She would get killed. And at the moment, she could only focus on Sheila Rounds, her next opponent in the lower division of Strikeforce, not remotely near the UFC and any meaningful championship match. If she got past Rounds, she hoped for a multiple fight deal with the UFC, though that was uncertain, and even then any match against a contender would possibly be like a lamb being fed to lions. She sometimes wondered if she could make it on the big circuit at all. It seemed like a steep, uphill, unforgiving road. And today felt that way as well.

As Cassidy climbed out of bed, she placed her feet squarely on the floor. She stretched and yawned, before stepping across the small, wood-floored room and pulling on a sports bra under a tank top and some small, cotton workout shorts. She stumbled around the dark room until she found her running shoes and yoga mat, before pulling a skull cap over her long hair and racing out in the cold morning air for the mile and a half run to the yoga studio. She would get in her hour, get in a run back home before a breakfast of egg whites and oatmeal and a two hour weight training session. She hoped the work would continue to pay off. She had come a long way, learning sound technique even if it had not been perfected yet, and getting her body in better and better shape. She wondered when the call would come for the larger deal that would pay her enough to train and fight full time, allowing her to quit her part time job waitressing at night. Hours later, a full training day behind her once more, she pulled her hair into a ponytail after climbing out of the shower and before throwing on some sleep pants and a tiny white t-shirt and preparing dinner. Unless and until that call came, she had to simply keep doing what she was doing. Discipline would be her path, but it was one that even she did not know whether or not she could take to any successful place.

http://cdn.rsvlts.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Brittney-Palmer-03.jpeg

 

[WildBill2015]

"The Hammer".

Billy Blaine sat back in a squeaky desk chair looking up at the poster on the wall of his bedroom. He'd had the posters -- a dozen in all -- made up when he thought his amateur MMA career was going to turn pro. That hadn't happened, though, due to a knee injury in his tenth match. Until then, his only lost had been his first.

He'd given the posters to friends and family, but today most of them were probably in the trash or rolled up and leaning against the back corners of dark, dusty hallway closets. His father still had one on the wall of his den. And he'd given one to his sister, but since he hadn't felt comfortable barging into her bedroom since she'd developed her womanly curves so many years earlier, he had no idea whether or not she was still displaying it.

The Hammer will fall! That had come to be his catch phrase before matches, implying that it would fall upon his opponents' heads, crushing them, defeating them. The Hammer had fallen, he thought, feeling sorry for himself. Fallen to never be raised again.

He still had one opportunity for fame and glory in Mixed Martial Arts, though. And that last opportunity came in the name of Cassidy Blaine. His little sister was 3-0, thus far, and with her dedication to her training, Billy knew that she could continue to win matches and increase her fame. And Billy had every intention to ride along with his sister on her road to glory.

There was really only one thing holding Cassidy back -- exposure! -- and Billy himself had just made a deal to get his little Sis past that obstacle.



"How'd training go today?" he asked, barging through the door of Cassidy's apartment, not even bothering to say hello or ask how she was doing. Ever since she'd hinted at wanting to enter the ring, the relationship between them had been entirely about fighting. "Tell me about this new sparring partner."

He plopped down in a chair and listened to her talk about the new exercise partner the gym manager had brought in a few weeks back. He shot questions at her, almost before she finished the answers to his previous questions, pushing for any and every detail he needed for assessing her progress or lack thereof.

When she reached the end of the answer to his last question, he studied her for a long moment. She must have known he had something big. He could see in her expression that she saw big news in his.

"Ron Davis has a proposal for us," Billy said. "I think it's worth considering."

He knew Cassidy was familiar with Davis, even if she'd only just met the man once or twice. Davis had risen through the ranks of fight promotion like a rocket on the Fourth of July. He'd become a Junior, then Senior Partner at MMSG, Cassidy's new agency. He'd already had control over the contracts for eight current or former UFC champions before he joined MMSG, and in the past two years he'd personally secured the contracts with six of MMA's top ten rising stars. The man was the Don King of mixed martial arts.

"Six fights," he continued, "over the next ten months. First bout's winning purse guaranteed at five grand. Losing purse two. Each subsequent win, another grand each. You win them all, stay undefeated, ten grand bonus."

As he spoke, he watched Cassidy's reaction carefully. He hadn't known whether she would be shocked or doubtful.

"Promotion," he continued. "Interviews. Sparring video. News clips. Twitter. Facebook." He leaned in, smiling broader. "A photo in ESPN the Magazine up front, and an interview after your third win. He has a trainer picked out for you, Stan Larkin, you remember him. Worked with Rousey when she first started. He makes me your manager, too."

He leaned back into his chair, his grin as wide and toothy as that of the Cheshire Cat. "If you finish the contract undefeated, he guarantees you a thirty thousand dollar bonus ... and a championship bout."

He gave her a second to consider those last words -- guarantee ... championship bout -- then said, "Or, you can stick to waitressing."

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Cassidy stood over the small pot of pasta, remembering a time when she would have it with some sort of meat sauce, when the door of her small apartment swung open and slammed into the wall behind. She turned with a start to see her brother barging in.

"How'd training go today?" he asked. "Tell me about this new sparring partner."

"You want to knock? Ever?" Cassiday snapped. "And what about him?" She asked. "He's some golden gloves champion from years ago who specializes in improving speed, which I need if I'm ever going to fight and contend." She watched Billy get comfortable in the chair across the room, answering his questions rapid fire before putting her hands on her hips.

"What is all this about?"

"Ron Davis has a proposal for us," he replied. "I think it's worth considering." She raised an eyebrow.

"Ron Davis?" she asked. She knew Davis' work and she was already skeptical. He was close to Dana White, the head of the UFC, who ultimately made the fights that he wanted happen, and Davis had set up some big fights in the men's division. The problem was that the women's bantamweight division was generally Ronda Rousey and everyone else. There wasn't much money to be made for a promoter in the women's division. She wondered what his angle was. Perhaps he was simply positioning himself for the windfall that would inevitably happen when Rousey left the circuit or retired and the next hot marketing commodity with a cute look and vicious right hook had to fill her place in line. She listened for what came next.

"Six fights," Bily continued. Cassidy's eyes grew wide.

"No way," she said. Six fights would put somewhere between $50k and $75k in her pocket. More if one or two of them were against a top three opponent.

"Over the next ten months," he said. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Ten months? She thought to herself. Most fights took six to eight weeks to prepare. That meant training and fighting 48 weeks out of the 52 week year, with maybe a three week break for Christmas and New Years. It wasn't unheard of, but it might be brutal. And what if she got injured. Billy wasn't finished.

"First bout's winning purse guaranteed at five grand. Losing purse two. Each subsequent win, another grand each. You win them all, stay undefeated, ten grand bonus." She thought about what he told her, saying nothing, silently waiting for him to clearly signal the deal was fully explained - she suspected there was more still.

"Promotion," he continued. "Interviews. Sparring video. News clips. Twitter. Facebook. A photo in ESPN the Magazine up front, and an interview after your third win. He has a trainer picked out for you, Stan Larkin, you remember him. Worked with Rousey when she first started. He makes me your manager, too." He paused, grinning. There was one rub.

"You? You'll be my manager?" She laughed and returned to the stove to stir the pasta, before pulling it from the burner and pouring it into a strainer she had set up over the sink. "That's ridiculous." She loved her brother, but he had taken too many hits to the skull and she hated meddling family and intermixing them with what was now her business. At the same time, this struggle had been the toughest, hardest climb she had ever ventured into and while her brother could be an idiot, the offer he was presenting was the most solid she had yet. Typically her deals were one fight deals that paid $1000 to show up and another $1000 if she won, all expenses then due and owed by her own income. Billy kept talking, as if putting the cherry atop the sundae.

"If you finish the contract undefeated," his voice grew low. "He guarantees you a thirty thousand dollar bonus." Cassidy turned around again and looked at Billy. The entire deal would put close to $150,000 in her pocket and save her expenses. It was a serious deal. "And a championship bout." Her eyes grew wide at his conclusion. "Or, you can stick to waitressing."

"Are you serious?!" Cassidy squealed. "A title shot?!" She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, a horse ready and unable to get out of the gate. "No way! No. You're lying!" She couldn't believe it. She allowed herself a moment to daydream. She wondered if she could handle such a big responsibility. There would be a lot of media with such a deal. She knew how the men did it. The deal was designed to succeed....IF she won. She would be pitted against another girl with a similar deal and the two would track toward each other. Her first three or four fights would be against "easy" opponents, not that any would truly be easy. The next one would be against a top tier fighter. And the last would be against the top contender that was not the champion. The winner would get the champion. At the same time, she knew that she had likely not been promoted for such an opportunity because she was anywhere near great. Ron Davis would not have pitched the deal if he had not already kicked it around with Dana. Someone higher up decided that not only could she at least fight enough to not get injured or embarrassed, but that she had something that would sell tickets and pay-per-view subscriptions. She suspected it was her tits and her ass, though she also knew that such considerations were part of the game.

"What did you give up to get this deal?" She asked anyway. "You're getting paid as manager, aren't you?" She stepped around the kitchen bar and sat on a nearby chair, bowl of pasta in hand and placing her feet on the ottoman. She dangled a single noodle in front of her face, a slight grin at the new prospects before her, as she stuck her tongue out and pulled the noodle in, slurping it down once it passed her naturally pink lips, still awaiting his answer. "What's in this for you? Besides being relevant again?" Her final question was in a snarky tone, knowing it would bother her brother because it did every time she needled him. He had never gotten such a deal sent his way. She was going to rub it in, even if just a little.

 

[WildBill2015]

"What did you give up to get this deal?" Cassidy asked. "You're getting paid as manager, aren't you?"

"Standard fare," he replied quickly. "Davis pays me a salary, thousand a month, so long as you stay under contract, which means you keep winning. Plus a percentage of the purse. Five percent. Nothing special."

Billy shrugged casually as he gave her a moment to consider his compensation. He knew she wouldn't have a problem with it. Most managers took ten percent, sometimes more. But with the monthly stipend from Davis, Billy didn't need to take any more of Cassidy's money. Besides, if he asked for more, she might tell him to take a hike.

But he could tell she wasn't convinced that salary and percentage were his only rewards when she asked, "What's in this for you? Besides being relevant again?"

Billy just stared at Cassidy for a long moment, a blank expression on his face. His little sister had always teased him, as any decent little sister should. He'd been able to withstand her ridicule when as a teen he began showing his interest in girls. He'd even survived after she'd caught him masturbating behind an unlocked bathroom door. He couldn't even begin to count the number of times he'd heard her chant Beat yer Billy lately?

But he'd never been able to accept her criticisms about his failed fighting career. He'd wanted to become a contender and a champion so badly. Injury had finished that dream, but -- to be totally honest -- Billy had always known he hadn't had what it took to excel. He liked to fight. He liked to compete. He just hadn't had the true fighting instinct to compete, not with those animals with whom he'd found himself in the ring.

"I just want to help," he finally answered. "I had my chance. Fate fucked me. Now, it's your turn." He leaned forward and stared hard into his sister's eyes, as if to emphasize his words. "You have what it takes to make it, Cassidy. You have the killer instinct--"

He almost said that I didn't have, but he caught himself.

"You have the speed and you're getting faster. You have the strength and you're getting stronger. You have the fucking moves and you're learning even more." He stood and walked toward her, allowing his eyes to drop conspicuously to her shapely body before he looked up, grinning. "And you have a body that every man in America -- fuck, the world! -- wants to see sweat drenched, in tight ass clothes, beating the hell out of another bitch who is crying for mercy, just as they all fantasize she'd be crying while they fucked her hard from behind."

He laughed loudly, continuing, "Fuck, Cassidy, you're every man's wet dream and you can kick the shit out of almost all of them, too! This is what you're supposed to do with your life. You know it. I know it. All I want to do is help you."

He gave her a moment to respond to his rather inappropriate brotherly clarification of what he thought about her, her body, and her career, then -- although he hadn't planned on doing so at this very moment in time -- decided he should give her one last little detail about the offer.

"Oh, and ... by the way," he said, trying to act casually and contain the smirk that was threatening to widen his lips. "In case you're wondering why Davis is making this offer to you, with your little ol' record of three and oh and virtually no name recognition except for that little photo op' flare up with Rousey..."

He turned away from her, walking toward the fridge, unable to contain his smile and not wanting her to see it. "Davis is hot for your ass." He pulled the door open, causing him to turn to face her. He laughed again. "I'm not saying you have to fuck the man to get the contract..." He fished out a beer, ignoring the look she gave him every time he snagged one of her beers before heading out the door. "But... it wouldn't hurt."

He leaned the top of the bottle against the counter, slammed his palm down upon it, and sent the top flying across the counter to clink its way up next to her.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

"I just want to help," her brother said. "I had my chance. Fate fucked me. Now, it's your turn." She paid close attention as he continued to speak, though she maintained a healthy skepticism. "You have what it takes to make it, Cassidy. You have the killer instinct--" When he paused, she nodded, but gave a smirk of disbelief.

"Right," she said, dismissively. She knew she wasn't the athlete some of the others were. She knew that the deal could be good, but also knew that one loss would unwind it all and leave her on the side of the competitive road. It sounded good, but was it? She couldn't be sure. This was new ground. Her brother continued.

"You have the speed and you're getting faster. You have the strength and you're getting stronger. You have the fucking moves and you're learning even more." She wanted to believe him, and she had come a long way. She watched him stand and approach her. As he did, she felt him nearly invade her personal space. She felt the slightest bit uncomfortable as his eyes dropped and ran from her feet to her face a full two times before continuing with a grin. "And you have a body that every man in America -- fuck, the world! -- wants to see sweat drenched, in tight ass clothes, beating the hell out of another bitch who is crying for mercy, just as they all fantasize she'd be crying while they fucked her hard from behind."

"Oh my god!" her jaw dropped momentarily before she punched him lightly on his chest, enough to back him away before turning away from him and back to her food. "I can't believe you just said that," she grinned, shaking her head. Saying nothing more, she knew she looked good. She was cute before all the exercise and proper diet, and the effects of both had made her firm in the right places and soft where she needed to be. Her effort to redirect the conversation didn't stop her brother.

"Fuck, Cassidy, you're every man's wet dream and you can kick the shit out of almost all of them, too! This is what you're supposed to do with your life. You know it. I know it. All I want to do is help you." She just nodded and rolled her eyes. She wasn't so sure, but was happy to have the support, misguided though it sounded to be.

"Oh, and ... by the way," Billy said, with a pause, prompting her to raise her eyes to him once again. She noticed he had a smirk of his own squarely on his face.

"What?" she said, prompting him to continue.

"In case you're wondering why Davis is making this offer to you, with your little ol' record of three and oh and virtually no name recognition except for that little photo op' flare up with Rousey," he said, turning and opening the refrigerator.

"Get out of there," she said, though he ignored her entirely.

"Davis is hot for your ass." The words lingered in the air, as Cassidy dropped both of there arms to the counter where she stood. She could not believe her brother or the situation. Of course being attractive had a distinct appeal in the fight game. Of course the mostly male audience loved watching hot girls in the ring rather than those who looked to manufactured or brutish. She wasn't naive to the reality. But it was also that appeal that sold tickets and could make Davis, and others, a lot of money. Sex appeal or not, it was her they should want on the fight tickets for the financial reasons alone. She shot her brother an angry, perturbed look at his implication.

"I'm not saying you have to fuck the man to get the contract," Billy said, pulling a beer from the refrigerator, which also annoyed her on top of everything else he was spouting. "But... it wouldn't hurt." She let his words hang in the air as he opened the beer, the cap flipping near and rattling to a stop near where her hand rested on the counter still. She looked at Billy again, her ire still up.

"I'm not fucking anyone," she said with an icy tone. And though she emphasized her words to effect, the truth was more real than she would even admit to her brother. She wasn't fucking anyone. She hadn't had a boyfriend in over a year and training took nearly all of her focus and energy. She had committed when her training began that she would give everything to her fight career, and she had. She had a few dates, but often the men seemed more interested in her burgeoning celebrity and seeking to be close to someone who knew someone famous. She grew tired of the questions about everyone else and the lack of focus on her. And though she missed the things that came with dating, with having a boyfriend, she would not be a whore for this, or any other, deal.

"And I thought you said the offer was already made?" she continued. "I'll sign the deal, but you tell him that I'm going to make the most sense for UFC and for his wallet, so if he wants me, then those are the terms and he's not touching me. In fact, if you even came here with this deal and he mentioned fucking me, and you thought that was going to happen, then you're not managing anything. I can't believe you would think that's okay." She took another bite, upset that Billy would do such a thing. It was one thing if he thought Davis wanted her, but to be complicit in some deal that would effectively make her a hooker was another thing entirely, which she would not condone. She let her temper cool for a few moments, then looked at her brother once more. "So what's next? How do we finalize this deal and when do we start?" As annoyed as she was, she knew the deal itself was good for her career and it would probably be the best shot she would get to get a title shot.

 

[WildBill2015]

"I can't believe you would think that's okay," Cassidy finished, her tirade -- entirely justified, of course -- ending with a look of death she'd given him often over the years.

He threw his hands up into the air in a surrender gesture, spilling a bit of beer onto the counter and laughing. "Slow down, sis. He didn't say anything, and I didn't promise him anything. I only said he wants you. I didn't say he asked for you. I just ... sensed it. Jesus, relax."

In reality, Davis had, in fact, asked Billy whether his sister was involved with someone. Billy had chuckled and asked the promoter whether he was interested, to which Davis had quickly concocted a story of just needing to know Cassidy's current romantic situation for the press, should the question be asked.

It was no secret that Ron Davis had had his share of women in the past. He was very much a ladies man, and more often than not he flaunted his affairs. Considering the women with whom Davis spent time -- models, actresses, Olympic athletes, and, of course, MMA competitors -- Billy wasn't surprised with the man's delight in having his relationships played out in the open.

Billy loved Cassidy and would never allow anyone to hurt her, emotionally or physically. That might have seemed counterintuitive, considering the siblings both beat others and were beaten by others as part of their chosen life. But that was inside the ring. Outside the ring, Billy would never allow anyone to harm his sister.

Davis could be a threat to the brotherly vow. With his reputation as a ladies man, he was also invariably the winner when relationships became combative. He'd never been made to look a fool by the women from whom he split, and very often it was the women instead who came out looking ugly, figuratively speaking.

Billy wanted to believe that Davis wouldn't do that to Cassidy. Billy needed to believe this. Just as this was his sister's best chance at stardom, it was Billy's last chance, too. Perhaps he was being naïve, but he was going to make this contract happen.

"So what's next?" she asked. "How do we finalize this deal and when do we start?"

He smiled broadly, lifted his bottle to drain it before setting it aside, then crossed past her to his gym bag sitting on by the door. He pulled out a thick folder, plopped it in front of her and opened it. There were twenty some sheets of paper, and at the top was the MMSG logo.

"Sign on the back page," he said, pulling a pen from a nearby drawer and setting it before her. "We start your training tomorrow. Stan Larkin will be at the gym at 6am."

Billy could read in her eyes the thought going through her head. He chuckled. "Yes. I knew you would say yes and yes, I already got the ball rolling. Might sound ... what's that word ... presumptive? But I knew you wouldn't pass on this."

He tapped his finger on the thick contract, turning and heading for the door as he called back to her, "In the meantime, Davis arranged a lease for me down at Mentor Mercedes--"

He looked back, his lips wide in a devilish grin. "I'm your Manager now, sis. I have to look the part."

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Cassidy watched her idiot brother take off and spent the rest of the evening going through the contract he had left. The deal looked clean. She wondered what Davis' angle might be. Perhaps there wasn't any. If her math was correct, he would make several hundred thousand on the fights alone and, if she won and got sponsorship deals, his 15% could put him near $2 million. Perhaps that was all he wanted, but her brother's comments made her wary. She thought unnecessarily so. She signed the deal and went to bed that night excited and ready for the next couple years, knowing the opportunity was now before her and the first chapter of her fight career closed.

**********

The alarm blared at 4 am, and Cassidy hit the floor immediately, pulling on a pair of running shorts and a long sleeved, Nike running shirt that fit her form perfectly. After lacing on some running shoes, she set out along the hills, watching the sun creep over the mountains and light up the coast below. She slowed to a jog once she returned to the foot of the hills and stepped on pace into the Starbucks just down the street from her place. Nobody knew her name, and she couldn't help wondering if a year from now she would say the same. She took a grande Americano from the barista and walked back up the gentle slope to her apartment, where she quickly showered and gathered a bag full of gym clothes and gear, before hurrying out the door and making her way to the gym. The signed contract sat in the bottom of the bag, ready to give to Billy, or Davis himself, when she saaw either of theem. She was interested in speaking with Davis about the marketing of her during the contract, which he had exclusive control of, under the terms of the deal. Arriving at the gym early, she stepped onto the mats, ready to stretch and warm up. There was no sign of Stan Larkin, or her brother.

"Pretty lady in the house gentleman!" Came a voice from the far side of the gym. "Behave yourselves!" Cassidy smiled at Marcus DeMoss, the gym's proprietor. Marcus had always been polite, even sweet, and she flashed hima broad smile. In other circumstances, she might have entertained his advances. He looked great, and knew his business. He was protective of the athletes in his gym, but she noticed his looks her way whenever they came. She also noticed that, unlike with most guys, she didn't mind them. She thought there might be some role for him in her corner and thought to ask Billy about it as training went on.

"Thanks Marcus," she said with a smile and bat of her eyelashes. As she stretched, she thought about who her first opponent would be. Lindsey "the Mount" Summit was 5-1, her only loss to Ronda Rousey, and she would be formidable. A match against her now could mean a quick end to the contract deal she was now grateful to have. Tara Jane was 2-2, had a mean striking game and therefore some appeal, but a win over her would mean little. Daysha Cole was 3-1, lost to Cat Zingano two years ago, but had beaten nobody. Cassidy thought she might make a great opening opponent that could not only be beaten, but could generate some buzz for the next fight. She was certain it would be one of those, but the call would be Davis', along with Dana White, the head of the UFC. But she needed to know, so she could tailor her training to the strengths and weaknesses of whichever opponent she would have. She knew her preference, and would make it a point to get that discussion going with Billy and Davis soon. Then it would be five weeks of training at least before any fight. There was so much on her mind when the bell on the door announced someone's entry to gym.

 

[WildBill2015]

Upon entering the gym, Billy could see by the look on Cassidy's face that she was thinking Oh, it's just you. He smiled broadly, unaffected by his little sister's dismissal of him as not so important and continued her way, trading greetings and bumping fists or chests with the other fighters training in the popular gym.

Billy's career as a UFC wannabe might have been shortened by injury, but his popularity with the other men -- and even women -- in and about the industry continued onward. He was charismatic and well liked by the males, and he'd conducted his sex life in a way that that hadn't left a trail of broken hearts or dagger-clenching fists behind. Billy had often thought that if he'd had the intelligence and education for it, he would have made a great politician. Of course, he preferred to fight with his fists, not his wits, so that had been a road untraveled.

"Don't get your thong in a twist," he whispered to Cassidy as he passed by her. When she gave him that look, he nodded toward the gym's entrance, just as the bell over the door sounded again. Billy smiled broadly as he watched Marcus DeMoss reach a hand out to Ron Davis. "The man himself."

The pair of men chatted out of hearing range for a moment, and as they did, the mood of the gym changed dramatically. Everyone here knew Davis, as well as what Davis could do for their careers given the chance. And while they were only dreams, each person now looking Davis's way was thinking Oh, please be here to see me, please, please, please be here to see me!

But when the pair turned to dive deeper into the fighting landmark, DeMoss led Davis directly toward and up to Cassidy Blaine. And whereas every other man who'd ever approached the beautiful brunette had ogled her incredible form with hungry eyes, Davis's gaze remained firmly above Cassidy's neck line as he reached a hand out to her.

"Cassidy Blaine, my new rising star," he said with an excited voice. He held her hand in both of his in a way that rode that thin, precarious line between friendly and intimate. "So very glad to meet you. I saw your last bout with..."

He glanced to DeMoss, who quickly filled in the name. Davis continued, "Great fight. I see potential in you, great potential, or else I wouldn't be here."

As he waited for Cassidy to respond, he was conspicuously still holding her hand in his...

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Billy walked in, passed Cassidy, and was shortly followed by Ron Davis, promoter extraordinaire. Until now, the deal her brother presented was just talk and words on a thick contract that had a lot of details, obligations, and commitments. Now, with Davis in the room, in her presence, Cassidy felt it was real. Davis was not known to waste his time in the gym with fighters. He came around only when he felt he needed to come around. And here he was. She watched him walk toward Marcus, greet him with the bro hug that was common in such circles, before they stood talking. She continued stretching, trying hard not to act nervous, trying not to be nervous, and as she looked up with her eyes only, past her own long, pretty eyelashes, she noticed Marcus speaking, smiling, then nodding in her direction a moment before they began walking toward her.

Oh my god! She thought to herself. Don't freak out! She told herself. This was the beginning of a ride she had only imagined.

"Cassidy Blaine, my new rising star," Davis said, as she composed herself, standing erect before him, as tall as she could, though still much shorter and smaller than him. She took his extended hand.

"Hi," she said, swallowing any more words she had. She noticed he continued to grip her hand, though she dared not pull away and she kept her eyes locked to his. "So very glad to meet you. I saw your last bout with..."

"Carrie DeFelice," Marcus said, smiling. Everyone had seen that fight. Cassidy had spent an entire camp training on grappling, anticipating DeFelice would try to take her down quickly, forcing her into a ground battle. But as DeFelice approached in the middle of the first round, Cassidy backed away from a left jab, stepped to the right, and unloaded a teeth-rattling right hook that landed faster than lightning, jolting DeFelice's head around, staggering her. Cassidy knew she was injured, stepped forward into landing another two lefts and a hard right, buckling her opponent's knees before jumping atop her to unload three more bombs as the referee called her off, declaring her the victor. It was the most devastating win of the night, earning her a $10,000 bonus from the UFC and getting her a ton of roll on that night's Sportscenter. But since that time, the UFC had not had her on another ticket, and five months had passed with no opponent. It was when the failure to capitalize on that moment became apparent that she had fired her last manager.

"Great fight," Davis said. "I see potential in you, great potential, or else I wouldn't be here."

"Thank you," Cassidy said, pulling her hand away so that both hands could brush back the hair from her eyes. "I'm looking forward to getting started." She knew not what else to say, unsure of how working on such large deals was to happen. Davis turned his head to the side, though his eyes never left Cassidy.

"Marcus, who you got for her?" He asked. Cassidy blinked, unsure of what he could be talking about, as Marcus turned over his own shoulder looking around at the others working out in various quarters of the gym.

"Jalena!" Marcus shouted, prompting a girl already in a sweat and working the heavy bag to turn, then jog over.

"Yeah coach," the girl said. Cassidy's eyes narrowed. She knew the girl now standing in their huddle. Jalena Baxter was straight ghetto steel, a worthy training opponent, and one that did not have much respect for Cassidy Blaine. Several times, she had given as good as she took, practicing with Cassidy in previous years. On one occasion, after Cassidy's first UFC win, Marcus had to pull the girl off her when she got top position and relentlessly hammered her in the face and head, unrelenting and clearly trying to make a point. Afterward, Marcus had apologized for putting them in the ring together.

"She's jealous. She thinks she should have gotten the shot that you got," he had told her. Cassidy had never forgotten it, and had since been wary of J-Bax whenever they had trained together. Now, their paths would apparently meet again.

"Can you spar now?" Marcus asked her. The girl looked at Cassidy, her eyes dropping low then high, taking her full measure and declaring her intentions.

"Oh yeah," she nodded. "Definitely."

"You ready to show me something?" Davis asked, turning back to Cassidy.

Shit, she thought. She had only stretched a bit and wasn't remotely warmed up enough to go. But she wasn't about to say no to the promoter that could certainly take her career and her life to another level. "Uh.....yeah," she said. Jalena Baxter nodded then skipped away and found a guy to help her wrap her hands.

"Great," Davis said, turning to Billy, across the room chatting up a pretty girl on a speed bag. "Hey Bill, get her wrapped!"

Moments later, Cassidy slipped 16 ounce MMA gloves over her black hand wraps and looked across the ring at her opponent, a light sheen on her skin, clearly warmed up and eager to do damage if she could. She heard her brother mumble something supposedly motivational in her ear, but her internal voice was drowning it out, wondering if this situation was ideal. Marcus rang the bell ringside, and the sparring was on.

Jelena Baxter stepped directly across the octagon toward Cassidy, who took two steps forward, then waited as the girl approached. She backed off a jab, effectively causing Baxter to miss, before stepping to her left, beginning to circle her. She dodged another two jabs, looking carefully for an opening to take a stab of her own. Finding one, she threw a cross, which Baxter blocked before ducking inside, wrapping Cassidy around the waist, lifting her up, and planting her squarely on her back with a shattering boom, knocking the breath from her momentarily. Cassidy tried to kick up and out of the girl's grip, but Jelena had her leg pinned and quickly climbed atop her, and began to remind her of the last time they had fought.

BOOM! Cassidy's eyes lit up with a flash as Jelena landed a punch square alongside her eye. BOOM! a second punch landed on her other cheek as she closed her guard, her arms now positioned to take the blows. For what seemed like an eternity, blows rained down and though most were blocked, a few got through and when the three minute bell rang, Jelena went to her corner and Cassidy got off the mat, face red and beginning to swell lightly. She shook her head, clearing some cobwebs, pissed at her own performance. She hadn't been ready, and she knew it. A good manager would not have let her spar on a moment's notice. She shot her brother a nasty look as she leaned on the ropes, taking a drink from the water he offered. She shook her arms, trying to stay loose before the bell sounded once more and she headed out again to meet her opponent.

As she stepped in, Cassidy landed two quick lefts, stunning her opponent before diving at her legs, tackling Jalena to the ground. My turn, bitch, she thought before striking the other girl along the face once. No sooner had she begun to throw a second straight, than Jelena flipped, throwing Cassidy to the side, then rolling to her back, where she bent her elbow, twisted her own arm under her neck, and began tightening her grip. Cassidy's free hand gripped the arm that was slowly choking her, as she tried to swing a leg free enough to pry Jalena Baxter off of her from behind. It was no use. She blinked once, fighting back a tear, embarrassed more than hurt, as she tapped her hand on Jalena's arm, causing her sparring partner to release her with a sound that could be described more as disgust than conquest.

"Pathetic," Jalena said, first kneeling over her, then standing up as Cassidy rolled to her back, her hands covering her face, her stomach and breasts rising and falling as she gasped, catching her breath. She couldn't believe the embarrassment she had just suffered, and she couldn't believe it had happened at the worst time. She hadn't been ready. She had been caught off guard, not expecting to spar. She had not warmed up properly. And her manager hadn't protected her. She remained on the canvas a couple moments, mortified, hands over her eyes as if the entire situation would go away if she just didn't acknowledge it. Then, slowly, she picked herself up, jaunted to her corner where Billy was standing with a frustrated smirk on his face. She refused to look toward Ron Davis, instead keeping her eyes on her brother's eyes.

"I wasn't ready," she snapped quietly where Davis could not hear. She knew she could make no excuses and hoped the demonstration hadn't made him want to cancel the deal. "You'd better explain this to him," she continued. "Bad warm up, bad opponent, bad day," her voice grew more urgent, even as she tried to let it seem like nothing was getting to her. "He has to know that my three official fights are who I am, and not........this." She looked at Billy's face for any response, hoping she never had to turn and face Davis.