Faking It(41)

“Let me guess, next you’re going to say I have nice eyes? Something else you learned from a Reddit Ask Women thread?”

His eyes moved up and down my body quickly but not in a way that felt creepy. He gave me a big toothy grin. “It’s just a fact. Not personal! Science basically says that you’re a gorgeous, brilliant woman. You think I need Reddit to tell me that? I am all about the results. Oh, and I only read Reddit to see all the nasty things people say about me.” Somehow, the smile got even bigger. Worse was the fact that it seemed genuine. I needed to focus and this was making it impossible.

“And what result are you after here?”

“I just want to make you feel good. That’s it. No motive. Most people like feeling good. You should try it.” It would have sounded cocky coming from him the other night, but now it felt like genuine flirting. Stay on track, Alyssa.

“You know what?” I said. “There is something you can do for me.”

“Say the word.”

Time for a test. I swallowed hard and bulled ahead. “The word is that I know you’re just turning on the charm to try and you can get in my pants. If you can’t do this professionally, I walk. And don’t tell me you like to watch me walk away, I want to be done with compliments for now, sincere or otherwise. I know you don’t need the interview like I do, but it can still help you. But please, let me do my job and don’t make this about my eyes, my hair, or all the things you’re thinking about doing to me.” My little speech made me blush, but I meant every word.

Braden actually looked surprised. “What makes you think I’m thinking about doing things to you?”

Oh God, had I actually said that? “I, uh—”

“You know, you don’t seem like all of the other fighter groupies,” he said. “No, no, don’t get mad, I’m kidding, mostly! I didn’t mean that you’re a groupie at all. But with your background, you’re obviously into the fight game. You’ve got to understand, everyone I talk to—and I mean almost everyone—wants something from me. The only interesting question is what they want, but I usually know. It’s not an easy thing, feeling like you’ve lost the ability to make small talk. I know I can be a little in your face and I’m not always a gentleman, but part of it really is about protecting myself.”

I turned on my recorder. “Fair enough. And you’re right, I certainly don’t have any point of reference for what you’re talking about, even though I’ve been around the sport for a while. I’m not sure I’d say I’m into the fight game, but I know a lot about it. Let’s get started, Braden, are you ready for the first question?”

“Hold on a second. I’m cooling off and getting cold.” He went to the corner and took an official gym sweatshirt out of the box, then pulled it over his head and covered up that banging body. All for the best, I supposed, as far as the interview went. “Go for it.”

“What would you say to someone who told you that there are far more important things than fighting? I saw a T-shirt the other day that said ‘Fighting solves everything.’ It was from a local MMA gym. I bet you know just who that guy is, even though you probably don’t actually know him. That guy obviously thinks fighting is the most important thing. How would you respond?”

What I imagined was that Braden would bristle, and pound his chest, and say that anyone who said such a stupid thing was a coward who fought from behind a keyboard as he posted on internet message boards, that pacifism was a position reeking of intellectual poverty and an acute lack of pragmatism, and maybe then he would turn over the desk and demand to see anyone who suggested that fighting was not the most important thing in life.

“Oh, I think that nearly everything is more important than fighting,” said Braden. “I like what I do, love it, in fact, but let’s not make more of it than it deserves. And of course, it depends on what you mean by fighting.”

I nearly fell out of my chair. His entire demeanor had changed. It had to be another ploy, but I’ll be damned if it wasn’t disarming. “Really?” I said with a squeak, fully aware of how mousy and silly I sounded. “You know I turned on the recorder, right?”

Braden nodded and then laughed. “Oh yeah. It’s hard to get away from. This might surprise you. Hell, it will probably surprise anyone who has known me for long, but a lot of the time I feel like I fight to prove something. I know I’m good at it, but I really can’t see myself ever feeling like I’ve improved enough to make up for certain things. I fight with a huge chip on my shoulder. It’s heavy and I spend plenty of time wishing it wasn’t there. I’m not always sure I know where it came from, but I carry it every single minute. It’s great in a fight. It’s a burden everywhere else.”

It was like I was alone in the room, like he wasn’t even talking to me. Braden was staring at something I couldn’t see. Something in the distance, or the past. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, turn off the recorder, and say that he could tell me anything.

“It definitely surprises me,” I said. “Forgive me for saying so, but you seem like the kind of guy, a lot of the time, who gives people the idea that there’s a fighter stereotype.”

He looked up. “What do you mean?”

I plunged in. I had done a ton of interviews, but I couldn’t remember if I had ever had a subject who felt this vulnerable and open. If he had a game, I couldn’t see it. “You know. Overly aggressive. Macho to the max. An alpha even in a room full of alphas. Someone with...well, you said it. Someone with something to prove. What are you trying to prove?”