Before I knew it, I was riding past Suki’s shop like a stalker nigga. She wasn’t far from the warehouse. I could’ve gone the other way, but something brought me to her.
Her Porsche sat outside.
I glared through the shop windows, and it was packed.
Bodies moved everywhere.
I didn’t think I’d see her and I was about to pull off when I saw her appear from the back. I thought about going in then I thought about how the bad Rayzor’s ass was out here behind Eris. I had time to stop my shit and pulled off.
That lil’ mouthy mothafucka has some shit with her. We clashed. I hadn’t gotten serious with a woman since my old bitch cut a nigga deep and got pregnant on me by the nigga she crept with then tried pinning the kid on me.
I see a lot in her, but Suki and I were the same people in different fonts. That shit won’t work.
Ihadn’t been able to think since finding out her ass was outside other niggas. I’d been trying to push that shit to back of my mind. I couldn’t. The pictures I got of her less than an hour ago had me seeing red. So I had to make a nigga feel it.
I felt my opponents’ ribs crack.
He held his guard, but the next shot split– leaving him open.
Vague- the Heavyweight from Chicago. Plenty of shit-talking at the weigh-in. Promised to make me a bitch. Hand me a loss. Tried to get under my skin.
I wasn’t afraid.
He stumbled, his toe scraped across canvas. It was too easy. His confidence faded– he knew what was coming. This wasn’t about the belt. The more I hit, the more I saw her face. That achedidn’t fade. It sharpened. Shoulder. Ribs. Stomach, Face. Jab for jab.
Vague was about to get what I couldn’t give to the nigga that thought he could be around Eris.
He tried, but I was quicker and precise. Jaw. Temple. Throat. He stumbled against the ropes, locking himself in a danger zone. He knew when I saw it in his eyes.
Rib. Rib. Chest. Jaw.
His head snapped while spit and blood sprayed.
The crowd erupted.
The bell cut through the noise. Ref barged between us, hand on chest, yelling for space. I kept my eyes on Vague. He was incoherent. I smirked.
I backed up, lunges burning but the fire still burned.
The crowd chanting my name.
They thought this was my claim. Truth was, I didn’t feel shit. I felt empty.
Going back to my corner, cutman rubbed my shoulders. Cornerman gave water, towel and replaced my mouthpiece while the trainer talked strategy to bring in the win.
It was all blur.
The bell chimed. It was time to go back in.
Vague was still weak but standing strong as he threw another hit. A quick jab to my jaw, and he tried to follow up again, but I blocked it.
Hit to the shoulder. Jaw. Rib. Then head.
He tumbled like a tree– knees going first. Knees went then the rest crashed into mat.
The ref slid in, yelling for him to get up.
The crowd roared.
