And he would. Right after he reclaimed his belt. When he said the words, he wanted to be 100
percent, to be the best he possibly could be, to feel like he was worthy of her.
In less than a week, he’d have everything he wanted.
Mac walked into the locker room, opened his locker, and grabbed his duffel bag. “You ready?”
Mac didn’t need to elaborate. Tommy glanced at him. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“At least you don’t have to go out of town for this one.”
This was true. The fight was being held right here in Atlanta at the Philips Arena. A huge bonus, since he really hadn’t liked the idea of leaving Julie for a week to fly off somewhere else.
“If Moon has any sense, he’ll realize this won’t be like the last time you guys met in the cage,”
Mac said.
“Moon has sense. He knows if Ethan actually gave me a chance to win my title back, that I’m back and gunning for him.”
Tommy had spent the last three weeks studying Moon’s fight tapes from every angle. The more he watched the man, the more certain he was he didn’t want to go to the ground with him. But Moon was superior at the takedown. Mike and Tommy had worked really hard on his ground game, even bringing Dante in to help. Dante was a stand-up fighter like Tommy, but he’d beat by submission the guy who used to be the best ground fighter in the industry. The man’s knowledge was priceless.
Dante’s advice and coaching had made Tommy as ready as ever to face Moon again.
Now to just do it.
Tate strode into the locker room. “Hey, Tommy. A few of the guys and I are headed over to the Boot Scoot for a little R and R. You game?”
He liked that idea. Liked the idea of holding Julie close even more, taking their relationship public. It was time to do that. Past time.
“Yeah, count me in.”
“Cool. Mac, you game?”
“Nope.”
Tommy had to suppress a smile at the blunt answer. Tate had only asked out of politeness.
Mac rarely said yes.
“Okay. Tommy, we’re going to shower and head on over there.”
“I’ll go over with you guys then.”
“I’m out,” Mac said. “See you tomorrow.”
When his friend walked away, Tommy dug into his pocket for his cell phone.
“Hey!” Julie’s soft voice flowed through the phone. Oh yes, he’d love to dance with her tonight.
Have her body pressed against his.
“Hey, beautiful. Some of the boys are going over to the Boot Scoot. Would you like to meet me down there?”
A lengthy silence followed his question before she parroted back, “The Boot Scoot?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve been down there. The next few days are going to be rough, so it’d be nice to relax some.”
“Tommy, it’s after eight. I’m in my pajamas.”
“Come on, Julie. Throw on some clothes and meet me down there. Let’s live it up a little tonight.”
“Live it up. Right.” She gave a long sigh. “All right, give me an hour.”
He smiled. “Awesome. Can’t wait to see you.”
After a quick shower and changing into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he walked with the other guys the few blocks to the bar. Being a Tuesday night, the place wasn’t as packed as on a weekend, but the atmosphere was just the same. Loud country music pulsed through the large speakers. The saloon-style setting embraced him. And he felt all the tension about his upcoming fight leave him in one quick whoosh.
The bar scene had always done this to him—filled him with a sense of belonging.
He and the guys found an empty spot at the end of the bar. Tommy leaned an elbow against the polished wood, nodding his head to the beat of the music. His upcoming fight became a topic of conversation, and one by one, as the other patrons noticed them, they gathered around, bombarding him with questions.
“Hey, Sparks, you ready for Saturday?”
“What’s your game plan?”
“What’s it feel like to be going back into the cage?”
As he answered each question, he gave that fan his undivided attention, making sure he or she knew he had heard the question and appreciated the support. He loved his fans, had always gone out of his way to interact with them. And the extra initiative had paid off. No one seemed to remember he’d been away from the MMA scene for months. Instead, it was as though he’d never been gone. He joked around, kissed cheeks, shook hands, and signed autographs. The bar melted into the background. All he focused on were his fans and their excitement.
The grin on his face started to hurt.
Tommy “Lightning” Sparks was truly back.
No longer eschewed by the fans, but embraced. Bodies pressed against him as the group surged closer. He thrived on the attention, loving how they hung onto every word. And when a shot was pressed into his hand, and Tate held up his glass in salute—“To victory on Saturday”— Tommy downed the amber liquid without a second thought.
God, it felt great to be back.