I step onto the scales and today’s moment of truth reveals 187lbs.
I’m actually up two pounds since yesterday and seventeen away from making weight. I check my phone’s calendar which confirms my fight with Ramirez is less than three weeks away. It’s that fuckin’ Cassidy and her incessant feeding. “Here Jorge have some cake, a little chocolate never hurt anyone, and with a body like yours you really shouldn’t worry so much.” I shit more in an afternoon session then that puto eats in a week. I walk back into the changing room and punch the first locker I see. At this rate I’m gonna have to train with a bin liner and skips meals. I do the mental arithmetic – on an average day I sweat about 5-7lbs so with the liner I should be closer to 10lbs. The locker takes another beating when I remember the sundae I ate last night. What the fuck was I thinking? And then the reason dawns on me – Ricki.
“Hijo de su madre.” I say furious with myself. I only ate that sundae because Ricki kept passing remarks about how I wasn’t eating because I was trying to squeeze into my summer bikini. Are you really going to let this little bitch punk you out and ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for? I slap myself across the face and tell myself to keep my eye on the prize. I focus on my breathing and begin to slow it down as the thoughts of fucking Cassidy in his bed begin to flood my mind.
“Maricon.” I say laughing to myself.
After my last session I kick back in the sauna with a couple of Gatorade and replay my workouts content in the knowledge I’ve shed eight and a half pounds. I go through a few basic tiger canes and practice some leg wheels from behind that I picked up in Jujitsu from Thiago as well as some Muay Thai strikes Vitor showed me.
“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” I say running through some blocks, “technique without spirit is dead.”
I finish up polishing off my moves before pausing to self reflect – I may not be there yet, but I’m closer than I was yesterday, because I give 100% effort every time I train.
Back at the house of lethargy nobody seems to have moved since I left. Tori’s still clamped out on the couch drained from “too much sun”, Kelly buzzes around the kitchen pointlessly with a margarita in her hand, while Jordan studies a script intently. Right on cue Cassidy’s the first one to greet me.
“So how was your work out?”
“Great.” I say scanning for the others. Out the back I see Michael puffing on a cancer stick talking to a dejected looking Leanne.
“So any closer to fitting into your prom dress sweetheart?” And before I turn around Ricki’s already got his hands on my shoulders. I feel the fury tingle through my fingertips as my nervous energy begins to converge. Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.
“You okay hulk? You look like you’re about to burst out of your leotard any second.”
“Getting there bro although I’ll probably have to lay off the carbs if I’m to reach my goal.” I say as the anger slowly begins to dissipate, my fists unclenching.
“Don’t worry you’ll be fine.” Cassidy says with a flirtatious smile.
“Of course he will. All that rolling around on mats with sweaty men in the name of hand-to-cock combat is bound to burn off the calories.”
I can feel the nervous energy regrouping so I slap my palm with firm intent off Ricki’s stomach and say ,”2Pac might be a famous rapper but it’s not a good look for you bro. I can work out a program for you if you’d like?”
“Really you can do that?” Cassidy says a little too excitedly as Ricki consciously rubs his stomach.
“Nah juicehead’s out and besides I heard those steroids shrink your balls something nasty.”
“Jorge are you okay? You look a little red.” Cassidy says before running the facet and filling it with water, “Here have this.”
I snatch the glass and down the water in long hard continuous gulps, never taking my eyes off Ricki.
I’m just about to finish up when Rick retreats to the garden slamming the door behind him.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous.” She says and instantly my rage is downgraded to a slow simmering boil.

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From the beginning.

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