Knuckle Up

Just a legacy

If Jared calls me stubborn one more time I will always refer back to this day. He didn’t back down from making me join him to meet Adam White. The UFC president and founder. If I knew we were going to meet him at the country fairground in Klamath Falls—I would have dressed nicer.

Adam was scouting fighters who were competing in the arena wars fighting series and I noticed Clay Agos was among them. Jared let me join him for the fight while having me wear heels and a skirt in a place where it reeked of sweat, smoke and popcorn.

“You could have told me that we were meeting Adam White at Clay’s fight,” I told Jared and showed him that I wasn’t much thrilled with him at this instance.

“Do you feel uncomfortable?” Jared asked—glancing around the crowd thinking that the spectators were bothering me.

“How would you feel wearing a skirt that reaches mid-thigh and heels to a sporting event?” I asked in a rhetorical manner.

He shot me a grin. “I thought you would want to look professional as we are here as Clay’s agents,”

I still wasn’t impressed. “You are the agent. I am just doing what I get paid to do and that’s assisting,” I sarcastically remarked and used my fingers as air quotes to emphasize my point.

He shrugged. “I am helping you out with protecting your cover,”

I didn’t immediately get that he was referring to not telling Adam about my interest in fighting and for a brief moment, I thought he knew of my father. I didn’t respond to his remark but something on my face must have made an alarm go off in his head.

“Sabrina, you, okay?” Jared asked—his voice laced with concern.

I blinked at his question and realized I must have given myself away. “Yeah, I am good, why are you asking?”

“You spaced out for a moment,” He noted.

I wet my lips to conceal my agitation. “I did, didn’t I?” I didn’t beat around the bush.

His eyebrows rose from being surprised by my vague reply as I acknowledged my discomposure to him.

“I was thinking how right you are about helping to keep my interest on lockdown,” Not like leggings, jeans or a shirt was going to give my interest away but I just played along.

Jared saw right through my lie with how his brows rose higher but before he could say anything—Adam walked up to us and greeted Jared with a handshake and a big, proud smile reflecting on either side of his cheeks.

“Your boy is on fire,” Adam complimented and paused when his gaze landed on me standing silently beside Jared. Adam White has been the president of the global fighting organization for over 20 years and even though he started with a name that hit bankruptcy—he found a way to make it work as it is one of the most successful fighting organizations in the world.

Jared noticed Adam’s interest in me as he made it obvious by staring at me like he was trying to profile me and by the looks of it, he has figured it out. “This is Sabrina Denver,” Jared introduced me before Adam could say anything.

The corner of Adam’s lips curled up into a full-blown grin. “I knew I recognized that face. How long has it been since I’ve seen you at a match?” Adam asked me and I could sense the motors working overtime in Jared’s mind by the way he looked at us.

“It’s been a while,” I replied—returning a smile and remembering to act with decency.

“I haven’t heard from your father in a while, how is he doing?” Adam asked the one question which I wish he didn’t. It is a question that is going to spark so much more questions from Jared and I would have no choice but to answer each one of them.

“He—uh, is taking things day by day,” It was an honest answer because my father was just taking a day as it comes. Wake up hangover, leave the house in a mess after he lost his temper and ends up back at the bar to cure his hangover with another until he passes out again.

“The world wasn’t ready to lose a dedicator fighter like your dad. You must send him my regards when you see him again,” Adam said it like he truly meant it and my heart shattered a little at the thought of people still looking up to my father—not knowing what a monster he truly is. How he shattered my self-confidence with the venomous things he spat at me when I was a kid and over the years of growing up into a woman.

People will look at me and point their fingers at me to blame me for his mishaps. They will put me at fault for his demise and there will be nothing left for me to do to share my side of the story. My dad was a hero in everybody’s eyes except for the one person who should love him unconditionally.

“I will do so,” I looked away from Jared when his piercing eyes started to become laser beams trying to melt away my guarded eyes to find answers.

Adam at least dragged Jared’s attention away from me as he started talking about Clay’s performance and how he would like Clay to have his first official UFC fight. Clay of course will be over the moon when he has to learn that Adam White was interested in him.

Jared once again did his job and got another fighter exposure as he promised he would. Maybe coach Mason had a point when he told me that Jared is the key to unlocking doors to my future and I was tempted to have him help me out but what if I wasn’t made for UFC? I might have the skills while competing in illegal fights but who says I will have them while brawling with fighters who have years of experience?

It hit me like a tidal wave when I realized I was actually afraid. Not because of my name but if I was good enough to make it to the top. People see me fight when there aren’t any rules but will I still be the same when I step inside a cage with rules involved? I am a rulebreaker and maybe the cage isn’t made for my untamed heart.

I shook my head to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts swivelling around inside my head and continued to watch Clay advance on his opponent. His attack was flawless including his takedown and Adam couldn’t have picked a better fighter. Clay is young and highly motivated. He also doesn’t lack talent or skill. Maybe a little obedience but with enough practice, he will get there.

“Darrel Denver’s daughter, huh?” Jared noted while grabbing a seat beside me and handing me a drink.

I wish it would have never come to this. I wish my past didn’t just unravel itself and I had Jared see me as a legacy or anything like my father.

“There’s a reason why I don’t introduce myself as Darrel Denver’s daughter,” I clarified—not looking at him.

Everyone with a sense of UFC will know who Darrel Denver was and what records he broke when he was still sober. Even then, he still dislikes his daughter and saw her as a humiliation. His drunk ass just made him honest and set the record straight that he will never love me.

“It makes sense where your talent comes from,” Jared began with his acknowledgements and made my skin crawl of how he sees me.

I shook my head. “Don’t ever compare me to my father or mention it again that my talent comes from him because it doesn’t,” I don’t care what people say. I will never believe them or listen to their so-called opinions.

I’ve got a firing yearn inside of me and it had nothing to do with who my father was. It has everything to do with what I want and what I enjoy about the sport. My ambition didn’t begin with my father and I am not following in his footsteps. I am creating my own.

“I’ve never seen that look in your eyes before,” At the mention of my eyes I looked up and locked eyes with Jared.

A shudder erupted from inside of me and blazed out over my skin when I know what expression he was talking about. I just didn’t think I was expressing it externally as I am used to guarding my feelings. “What look?” I asked.

“Rage. Hate. Cold. You don’t look up at your father like the rest of us do,”

It was sad to hear that even Jared looked up to my dad. “You should find yourself a new role model. Maybe Ryder Cane will be a better inspiration,” Ryder Cane has class. He doesn’t insult his daughter, Maxine or swear at his wife. He is a true king of UFC. My father doesn’t compare to the Cane family.

“Who says he isn’t?”

I raised my shoulders. I don’t know where Jared finds his inspiration and motivation from but my dad wasn’t going to make the cut.

“Why do you hate your father, Sabrina?” Jared asked me something that I wasn’t sure how to answer since I didn’t expect him to acknowledge how I feel.

“Hate is a strong word,” I dropped my gaze and muttered. Maybe I do hate my father for everything he has done to me or maybe I just hate the things he said to me or how he physically and mentally hurt me.

“Are you turning a blind eye on your dream because of who your father once was?” Jared asked the million-dollar question and it wasn’t that difficult to answer him because my father cursed me with his surname and I will forever be haunted by him.

I lifted my head and looked directly into Jared’s eyes as I answered him with a determined and truthful remark. “Yes,”