Free Submission Moves: An MMA Romance by Camilla Sisco Page A

lazily with a small half-smile playing on his lips. Sometimes he’d lick his lips, as was his habit, and throw Rose off her script.  
    On the row behind him sat Angelo and Paolo, a third Rossi brother and the manager of the gym. Paolo had called Rose a few days ago to arrange the seminar, and they’d spoken quite a lot since then. Nick was the oldest, followed by Paolo, then Angelo. She was surprised to find that she liked Nick’s brothers, even Angelo with his occasionally glib tongue.
    Aided by her trusty PowerPoint presentation, Rose went through the motions of the session, occasionally being interrupted by laughter and silly comments from the guys.
    “I got a question,” one of the fighters, a cocky but good-natured bantamweight said. Vince Fajardo, 7 wins 1 loss. He gave Rose a boyish smile, one she knew so well, having grown up with five brothers. A smile that said he was up to no good. “I know you’re, like, a feminist and everything, but are you a lesbian?”  
    That wasn’t the first inappropriate question she’d fielded that day, and it was unlikely that it was going to be the last. She took a deep, calming breath. “Vince, feminist doesn’t mean lesbian.”
    “So you’re saying I got a chance with you?”
    “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
    “So you are a lesbian.”
    Having been subjected to this line of questioning more times than she could recall, Rose came equipped with a canned lecture. But before she could begin, Angelo’s voice cut above the laughter.
    “Shut the fuck up, asshole. Like you’re her type.”
    Vince had a retort ready, but Joe Grayson cut him off with a warning look. Rose remembered him from Nick’s story four years ago. He’d retired from professional fighting, and he and Nick founded the training camp together with Joe as the head coach. Rose had him to thank for quieting the guys down when they got too rowdy.
    “I don’t see why we gotta go through all this bull. There aren’t even any bitches in the team or in the gym,” another fighter said, rolling up the thick booklet that Rose had provided and slapping it against his meaty thigh. Jake Swanson, lightweight 4-2.
    “Jake, you can’t call women ‘bitches’. That’s on your booklet. No slurs and no sexually explicit profanity in a workplace setting. And maybe that’s something you ought to look into as well,” Rose said, addressing Paolo, “a more equal-opportunity hiring process for the gym.”
    “Yeah, P, we should have girls we can work on our grappling with at the gym,” offered one of the sparring partners.
    Joe kicked the guy’s chair, and he mumbled a quick apology.
    “We can hire cute women, right?” Paolo asked. “I mean, we’re running a gym here. We can’t have fat-assed receptionists greeting our clients.”
    Rose gritted her teeth. How was she to endure two more sessions of this without losing her temper? “I understand how some professions and industries might have specific physical requirements, but ‘fit’ is not the same as ‘cute’. I hope you’re all aware how damaging it is to evaluate a woman based solely on physical appearance.”
    A hand in the back shot up. It was from a fighter with an impressive mohawk and sleeve tattoos. Darnell Rashad, heavyweight, 19-4. So far he’d been quiet and very attentive. Rose smiled, appreciating his politeness and happy to be engaging the group. “Yes, Darnell? Do you have anything to add?”
    “It’s true, you shouldn’t judge girls by how hot they are or whatever,” he said with a solemn nod, “I once hooked up with a butterface, but her nastiness in bed was through the roof.”
    The room erupted in howls and despite Rose’s best efforts, the men got drawn into a lively debate on whether it was better to have a “plain” girl that was good in bed or a “super hot” girl that was bad in bed.
    “It’s nice to have an arm piece but if she can’t keep shit interesting, I’m kicking her ass to the curb,” Angelo said.