Fighting for Love(5)

By: L.P. Dover



Speaking of my agent, by the time I made it into my driveway, Garrett’s metallic silver BMW M5 sat parked in front of my garage. He leaned against it and talked animatedly into the Bluetooth earpiece I’d never seen him without. Knowing him he probably slept with the damn thing on. With an immense grin on his face, he waved me over and ended the call with the press of a button, still leaving that stupid earpiece hooked onto his ear.

“I have some good news,” he marveled, loosening up the tie around his neck with a smug expression. “And I know you’re going to thank me for it.”

He was the best agent around, and one of the main reasons my name had spread as far as it has, but the guy could seriously be an arrogant cocksucker at times. Garrett was twenty-eight years old—the same as me—and never once had I seen him in something other than a suit or some kind of expensive clothing. The guy probably spends more time getting ready than a damn female.

Give me a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt and I was good to go. Growing up with nothing kept me grounded and I planned on staying that way. Coming to a halt in front of him, I leaned over on my knees so I could take in some deep breaths to slow my heart down after the six miles I’d just run.

Once my breathing slowed, I peered up at him and asked, “Oh yeah? What news would that be?”

Garrett’s grin grew wider. “You, Matt Reynolds, are going to be this month’s feature in one of the most popular magazines in the world. Not only will your face be on the cover, but it’s going to be a ten page spread following your life as an MMA fighter. They are also going to cover your fights in the Golden State tour. However, it’s not going to be just a simple interview. For the whole month of the tour they’ll be coming to some of your practices, the fights, and all other events so they can get to know you and show the readers what an amazing athlete you are. Just think of the exposure you’ll get.”

How in the hell did I land this? I wondered, wide-eyed.

“Really? Which magazine?” I asked in disbelief. I’d been interviewed and featured in magazines before, especially MMA magazines, but nothing I would consider one of the most prominent in the world.

“Have you ever heard of Physique?” he countered slyly with a smirk.

Immediately, my mouth dropped open and I gasped, “You can’t be serious? Did they say why they wanted me?” Not that I wasn’t widely known, but Physique usually handled professional athletes in football, basketball, and baseball, not MMA fighting.

“Weeelllll,” Garrett drawled out slowly, “that’s the thing. They were interested in you or Mason Bradley, and with everything that went down a few months ago with him and the whole deal in Las Vegas they thought it would add a good story to the spread. However, since he’s not competing this season I convinced them that for the time being you would be the perfect choice. Imagine the hype you’re going to get when you and Mason compete for the Heavyweight title. I bet every seat in the house will be sold out.”

Yeah, if he ever comes back to the sport.

Mason Bradley had been the one fighter I looked up to when I was training. I couldn’t wait to get in the cage with him, but by the time I got into the MMA scene he had already quit just when he was getting a name for himself. A few months ago, he came back into the circuit and I finally got in the ring with him; it was the toughest and best fight of my life. Now he was a good friend, always taking the time to train with me, but when it came time for me to defend my title I was going to kick his ass.

“When does all of this start?” I asked.

“This weekend,” Garrett replied, “except I’m waiting on a call from Bryan Winters, the owner of Physique, to give me more details once he gets in touch with the journalist who’s doing the spread. Her name is Paige Monroe, and from what Bryan says she’s the best journalist he has. I thought maybe we could meet her for lunch this week so she could get a feel for who you are and maybe go over your itinerary. Does that sound like a good plan?”

“Hell yeah,” I exclaimed, shaking his outstretched hand. “Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there.”

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