well muscled, with hair cut short around her ears. Rhonda was also pissed off. They both wore headgear, but nothing could hide the scowl on her face. If Lizzy knew Rhonda better, she might have asked her what the problem was, but it was too late now anyhow, since the fight was about to begin.
This was fight night. More people showed up for fight night than any other. There were rules: no knees to the groin or head. No eye gouging or fishhooking. No hair grabbing, no biting. No strikes to the throat or spine.
As instructed, they both jabbed air, first with their left fists, then their right, pointing with their thumbs and aiming with their knuckles. A few shouts from the crowd egged them on, although heckling from the crowd was not something they encouraged there.
The bell rang.
Lizzy moved forward and clipped Rhonda across the chin on the first jab, and then threw another quick combination to her shoulder and middle.
Rhonda literally growled as she lunged forward, hitting Lizzy with an uppercut, two jabs in the ribs, and a jarring right hook to her temple. Despite the padding beneath her shirt and the headgear, it took Lizzy a moment to regain her senses, which gave Rhonda time to put everything she had—her legs, her body, her whole being—into each strike.
Lizzy felt a sting in her face, shoulder, and ribs. She staggered backward until she was pressed against the rubber ropes. She tasted blood. Where the hell was everyone? When the referee at last appeared, he made the necessary motions to call off the fight.
But Rhonda wasn’t having any part of it. She wanted blood.
Fight nights were supposed to be all in good fun. The refs didn’t wear headgear.
Rhonda landed a perfect haymaker on the ref, knocking him to the ground. Before anyone else could get in the ring, Rhonda was coming at her again.
On any other day, Lizzy might have been worried. As it was, though, this chick wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day. Lizzy pretended to wave her off, knowing Rhonda had already committed, then surprised Rhonda with some moves of her own: a fast jab to her chin, two more to the bad left shoulder she always bitched about. Two more strikes to her gut, a knee to her stomach, jab, jab, strike. Bringing her hips around, Lizzy ended with a hard kick to the woman’s side, eliciting a loud grunt.
Rhonda spit out every curse word in the book as she came at Lizzy, slamming her head into Lizzy’s gut. She was a brawler, pounding her with one blow after another, relentless, using her considerable weight to push Lizzy out of the ring. Lizzy got to her feet, but Rhonda had slipped through the ropes and pushed Lizzy into the wall, taking the breath right out of her. Another left hook and then a right to the side of her face. More blood.
People were yelling now. Somebody tried to get Rhonda off her. It was Tommy, and he took a right hook to his chin and a left to the face that staggered him, allowing Rhonda to turn back to Lizzy again.
Apparently, Rhonda was just getting started.
Lizzy used her legs to block most of the kicks, but Rhonda got in a couple more before a group of trainers managed to pull the crazy woman off her.
Lizzy was on the ground, her back against the wall. She gave herself a couple of minutes to breathe.
Tommy hunkered down next to her. He pulled off her headgear and her gloves. He used a wet cloth somebody handed him to wipe the blood from her chin.
At close view, Lizzy realized Tommy no longer resembled the insecure boy from the past. His jawline was defined, his body bulkier, his eyes bright. He’d grown into a man, and she wondered why she hadn’t notice before this moment. Maybe she just needed to have the shit beaten out of her to really see things clearly.
“What the hell got into her?” Lizzy asked him.
“Hayley beat her good a few months ago. You weren’t here. They were supposed to have a rematch tonight. I guess you got what was meant for Hayley.”
“Wonderful.” Lizzy shook her
This was fight night. More people showed up for fight night than any other. There were rules: no knees to the groin or head. No eye gouging or fishhooking. No hair grabbing, no biting. No strikes to the throat or spine.
As instructed, they both jabbed air, first with their left fists, then their right, pointing with their thumbs and aiming with their knuckles. A few shouts from the crowd egged them on, although heckling from the crowd was not something they encouraged there.
The bell rang.
Lizzy moved forward and clipped Rhonda across the chin on the first jab, and then threw another quick combination to her shoulder and middle.
Rhonda literally growled as she lunged forward, hitting Lizzy with an uppercut, two jabs in the ribs, and a jarring right hook to her temple. Despite the padding beneath her shirt and the headgear, it took Lizzy a moment to regain her senses, which gave Rhonda time to put everything she had—her legs, her body, her whole being—into each strike.
Lizzy felt a sting in her face, shoulder, and ribs. She staggered backward until she was pressed against the rubber ropes. She tasted blood. Where the hell was everyone? When the referee at last appeared, he made the necessary motions to call off the fight.
But Rhonda wasn’t having any part of it. She wanted blood.
Fight nights were supposed to be all in good fun. The refs didn’t wear headgear.
Rhonda landed a perfect haymaker on the ref, knocking him to the ground. Before anyone else could get in the ring, Rhonda was coming at her again.
On any other day, Lizzy might have been worried. As it was, though, this chick wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day. Lizzy pretended to wave her off, knowing Rhonda had already committed, then surprised Rhonda with some moves of her own: a fast jab to her chin, two more to the bad left shoulder she always bitched about. Two more strikes to her gut, a knee to her stomach, jab, jab, strike. Bringing her hips around, Lizzy ended with a hard kick to the woman’s side, eliciting a loud grunt.
Rhonda spit out every curse word in the book as she came at Lizzy, slamming her head into Lizzy’s gut. She was a brawler, pounding her with one blow after another, relentless, using her considerable weight to push Lizzy out of the ring. Lizzy got to her feet, but Rhonda had slipped through the ropes and pushed Lizzy into the wall, taking the breath right out of her. Another left hook and then a right to the side of her face. More blood.
People were yelling now. Somebody tried to get Rhonda off her. It was Tommy, and he took a right hook to his chin and a left to the face that staggered him, allowing Rhonda to turn back to Lizzy again.
Apparently, Rhonda was just getting started.
Lizzy used her legs to block most of the kicks, but Rhonda got in a couple more before a group of trainers managed to pull the crazy woman off her.
Lizzy was on the ground, her back against the wall. She gave herself a couple of minutes to breathe.
Tommy hunkered down next to her. He pulled off her headgear and her gloves. He used a wet cloth somebody handed him to wipe the blood from her chin.
At close view, Lizzy realized Tommy no longer resembled the insecure boy from the past. His jawline was defined, his body bulkier, his eyes bright. He’d grown into a man, and she wondered why she hadn’t notice before this moment. Maybe she just needed to have the shit beaten out of her to really see things clearly.
“What the hell got into her?” Lizzy asked him.
“Hayley beat her good a few months ago. You weren’t here. They were supposed to have a rematch tonight. I guess you got what was meant for Hayley.”
“Wonderful.” Lizzy shook her
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