Navarro pointed at a man attacking a punching bag. “That’s pretty standard for all fighters,” he continued.
“You said I get paid, win or lose, and I can count the number of guys training in here on one hand. Four guys is a far cry from all fighters,” I said.
“Are you questioning me, Mr. White?”
I glanced at the ceiling sarcastically. “I guess I am.”
Navarro stopped walking, and I did the same. He starred at me with his eyes narrowed and his jaw muscles tensed.
“That would be a mistake,” he said.
I just looked at him. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t show any emotion.
“Plus, you’re still being interviewed,” he said as we continued to walk.
We approached Ivan, who was watching two men spar inside of the octagon cage. Both men were ripped and hard. One was short with a bald head, and the taller
