Cry Me A River

Chapter Six - Revealed Secrets

{Landon}

"What the hell was that!?" Dakota screamed. I had been sitting on my bike for the last ten minutes, listening to her yell at me.

"I've got somewhere to be, so are you done?" I asked. She stopped pacing and looked at me. Oops.

"Seriously!? No, I'm not done!" she yelled. I sighed, frustrated.

"Dakota, I will talk to you later and explain, alright? But right now I need to go" I promised. Without waiting for a response, I started up my ride and took off, pulling out of the shop's lot.

"Landon!" she called after me. I ignored her and kept going, zooming down the street.

I sighed, the cold wind whipping through my hair. I hadn't put on a helmet, but honestly, I rarely cared enough to. It was an amazing sensation, the wind through your hair, on your face. You're free and relaxed.

I pulled into the parking lot of a beat up apartment building and turned off my motorcycle. I got off, sneaking past a group of drunks that stood by the lobby door, and headed down the basement stairs.

There was already a big group of people standing around the mats, waiting for the next fight.

"You're late, Hudson!" a man yelled from the far side of the room. That'd be Jason. He runs the fights, picks locations, chooses who fights who, those types of things. He's also the only one looking out for the 18 year old kid who's in over his head.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" I snapped at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up and get changed. They're waiting," he ordered. I nodded and walked over to the makeshift changing room, slipping out of my jeans and shirt and pulling on a pair of basketball shorts. The nice thing about Jason's underground fighting is that it's not as bad as you'd expect. It's safer, and it actually has a couple rules. It's like a mix between underground fighting and boxing. The main illegal thing about it is the betting.

"Hudson! Let's go!" Jason yelled. I took a deep breath and walked out toward the "ring." It was basically just a mat for padded protection when someone went down.

Jason has two rules: you have to wear some type of protection on your hands, and no weapons. If you broke either one, he made sure you never fought again. My go-to gloves are the fingerless MMA style ones. They work every time.

I stepped onto the mat, adjusting my gloves and waiting for my opponent.

He stepped out of the crowd, a smile on his face. I looked him over. "Probably about 200 pounds, definitely stronger than me, but looks like the type that fights with his fists instead of his head," I profiled. He growled and raised his fists, matching my stance. I smirked.

I waited for the signal to begin, and once we got it, my opponent charged me, taking me by surprise and dropping me on my back. I coughed, arching my back in pain, and pushed myself up a second later. I couldn't stay down too long or I'd lose, and I needed the money.

After about five minutes of each of us throwing punches and connecting, I managed to catch him off guard and flatten him, barely winning. My lip was cut, my head was spinning, and my torso ached. I was exhausted and ready to sleep, but I wasn't too tired to notice a familiar blonde head in the crowd. I shoved through some men, reaching her just as an older, creepy looking guy went to approach her. I pushed her toward the corner of the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I said roughly, cornering her against the far wall, crossing my arms across my chest. There are never any girls here, and when there are, it doesn't end well. By blocking her in, hopefully it would keep the creeps away.