Sawyer stands back up. “Listen, I’ve gotta get back downstairs, but I meant to tell you Spider Reynolds is downstairs with his entourage.” “The guy with the serious hard-on for you? I saw him talking shit on the sports channel the other day,” Becks adds. “Yeah. We all have. The dick wants a fight, but he hasn’t fucking earned it. I don’t give them away. You wanna fight me—get in line and pay your dues.” We might all have to fight each other in the cage, but most of us shake hands afterward. There’s a respect there for the sport and for each other. But this douche has neither. Sawyer looks down
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