The Friendsgiving Fight

By Kelly Papyrus

When a Thanksgiving fight is announced after a long hiatus during the pandemic, MMA gear designer Cat is elated that she'll have a chance to shine professionally again. Until she finds out that Matt Anthony is going to be the headliner. She and Matt, known to the public as Mr. Loverman, had a fling that seemed like a lot more at the last fight location, several months ago, and the sting of never getting a call from him makes her vow to keep their relationship strictly business this time.

But Matt has a reason he never called her — two reasons, she soon finds out — and has been waiting for his chance to make things right with the woman he hasn't been able to stop thinking about. The attraction between them is as undeniable as ever, and with Cat assigned as his designer, it's going to prove hard to keep her distance. With emotions running high in the days leading up to fight night, can Cat keep him safely at arm's length, or will Matt get her in all her most vulnerable spots?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Sep 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094439624

Kelly Papyrus

Kelly Papyrus is a writer whose stories feature diverse characters and people of color. She loves learning about new cultures and writing about them. She lives in Florida and loves dogs.

Book preview

1

Cat

The clock read ten a.m., but that couldn’t be right — could it? It amazed me how slowly the workday passed when your best work friend wasn’t in the office. Except Laila was in the office; she just wasn’t at her desk or answering her IMs. Something had to be going on, and waiting to find out what was driving me crazy.

I clicked around Spotify, looking for a playlist or podcast that could distract me. When I heard the incoming IM sound, I knew it had to be her.

Where are you?

I’m at my desk, the question is where are you?

Just got out of a surprise meeting. Have crazy news. Coming to visit you now.

My mind wandered as I waited for her to walk down the hallway and pop through the door to the Global Gladiator League’s costume department. Things had been slow and boring all summer, as COVID numbers in the area and all across the country spiked and we hadn’t been able to plan any new fights or tournaments. The prospect of putting together a live event had seemed almost impossible until recently, when numbers had started to trend downward again. Over the last two weeks or so, every department in the building had been buzzing with speculation about whether or not the executive team was going to plan a night of fights before the year ended. The opaque glass door finally opened, and I grinned at Laila. She clapped her hands as she grinned back, waiting for the door to close before she spoke.

It's happening, she said, her voice steady. I could see in her eyes that she was excited, so excited she could barely stand still. Her job in PR, promoting the league and fighters on social media and other outlets, was also hard to do with no upcoming event to talk about. She would be looking forward to the chaos of the next few weeks just as much as I was. But she kept it professional, looking around in case anyone else was still lingering in between the racks or hidden behind the piled-up bolts of fabric in the corner.

Come in, Ingrid’s gone to lunch. Tell me everything you know, I said, pulling her into the costume department and closing the door. I led her back to my cubicle, the smallest one in the department, the farthest from the window.

A lot of it is just what we suspected. A full card of fights on Thanksgiving, late in the evening, after everyone’s come back from dinner with their families and they’re all angried up and ready to see someone get knocked out. They didn’t release all the names, so we don’t know exactly who is going to headline yet, but we do know someone it won't be.

Riker? I gasped as she nodded.

So the rumors are true? There had been a lot of talk between the league trainers and personnel about the champion, Riker Cruz. He’d been seen partying all over the globe during the pandemic, and recently people had been saying he wasn’t showing up for training or promotions by the league. No one wanted to say the word rehab, but it had been looming for a while.

He’s headed to Promises in Malibu, she said, and I gasped again. I was happy to hear Riker was getting help, but I had to wonder what it meant for all of us. The Global Gladiator League was still new compared to the other MMA leagues out there, and Riker had been its first champion to start to gain mainstream popularity and fame. With him heading to a rehab program, what would happen to the championship title and all of our jobs?

How is the league going to handle it? I had to presume it had been the biggest topic at the meeting.

Once the fighters get into training and the league gets a look at them, they’ll decide who to move up to the main card, and those two will compete for the title of champion, she said.

Is your man hoping for a spot? There was really no point in asking; every man who competed in the league did.

I came right here, haven’t talked to Terry yet, but I’m sure he will be. I’m not sure it’s the best thing for him, though. We’re going to do a big PR push, try to spin it as a good thing. A chance for any of the guys in the league to move up. The pressure on whoever does move up is going to be nuts. Sports news stories are still slow, and a new main-card fighter is going to get some attention, she said.

Working in league PR, Laila had a knack for knowing what was going to inspire the press. It was part of what made her so good at her job, and a large reason her boyfriend had gone from an unknown fighter to an Instagram sensation in the space of a few months.

Who do you think it will be? I asked. Laila was always buzzing around the office, popping into various departments, and Terry gave her all the latest gossip from the locker room. Her opinion was one of the most informed in the building.

Maybe Oliver Perez. Or maybe Matt Anthony, Laila said, her tone suddenly too casual as her gaze dropped, avoiding making eye contact with me. I knew why. She knew the history between me and Matt, and though I’d told her that everything had ended on good terms, I knew she could still sense that I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again.

Interesting. Things are going to get crazy around here, I said, pointing to the giant calendar on the wall with my chin. It wasn’t long until the holidays, and getting everything ready for a full night of fights before the end of the month was going to be a tall order.

It's definitely going to be all hands on deck in PR, and in here, too. At least Ingrid will be too busy to pick on you, she said, and I laughed.

Ingrid’s never too busy to pick on me, but I appreciate the sentiment, I said. Speaking of, I need to proof these spreadsheets before she gets back; her meeting with Adam’s at one.

I’ll leave you to it. Are we still meeting for Thai and night markets?

You know it. I’ll text you, I said, waving as she left the cubicle. I forced myself to count to thirty, giving her plenty of time to walk out into the hall, before I pulled my phone out and opened Instagram. I hit the search function and typed Matt’s name quickly, waiting impatiently for his posts to load. I didn’t know why I felt like I had to rush, like I didn’t want anyone to see me. I was allowed to look at his social media, after all.

You know why you don’t want anyone to know you care if he’s coming. The voice in my head prompted a series of images from my time on Fight Island to play in my brain, one after the other, like an old-school movie projector whirring to life.

Matt unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his smooth chest and the tattoos along his pecs as I ran my hands over his skin. His bottom lip rubbing against mine, our bodies tightly clutched together as he kissed me in the dark of his hotel room. Him pulling my skirt up so it sat around my waist and me eagerly helping him, anxious for him to touch between my legs.

It was just a fling. I’d said it so many times, both in my mind and out loud. It sounded like I believed it. I almost did. I looked down at Matt’s latest post, taking in the professional photo. He’d obviously had it taken in a studio, where the lighting warmed his skin to a deep amber tone. His muscles glistened, and the lights picked up each drop of sweat on its way down his arms. He had on a classic gladiator costume like the one Russell Crowe had worn in the movie, the stretchy red-and-gold fabric straining to contain his pecs. On the bottom, the skirt or kilt or whatever it was called in Rome was a little shorter than it needed to be, but Matt had solid muscular thighs I was sure he wanted to show off. He even had the flat sandals with the straps coming up his hairy legs.

I snorted, trying to contain my laugh in the small office space, eyes racing to read the caption.

Finally, I can share the news with all my fans and followers… I’m heading back to the ring! Check me out at the Global Gladiator League’s next event, live from Boston on Thanksgiving Day. Opponent to be announced, my fans will be the first to know as soon as I do.

Confirmed. He was definitely coming here, and I’d probably see him. I wanted to feel nothing, but I recognized the wave of emotion washing over me as relief. I didn’t want to see him, but I was going to, and maybe it would help me leave the whole encounter in the past. I forced myself to go over the list of reasons not to want him that Laila had helped me make and that I had