Chapter Five
Gabe
The bank’s front door felt heavier on the way out than it had walking in, as if the weight of rejection had been added over the course of my meeting with the loan officer.
Loan denied.
This was the fifth bank I’d tried since returning to Philly two weeks ago. A month and a half at selection camp had passed in a blink, and Noah was officially on the USA Olympic boxing team. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so proud.
Or as solid in my decision to open my own gym. I wasn’t competing anymore, but I still had plenty to offer this sport. Achievements I could strive for as a coach—like fostering a new generation of fighters and building the foundation for them to carve their own paths in the ring.
Now, it was a matter of finding a bank that would give me the loan to buy Coach Lou’s gym. The same gym where I’d first learned to fight. Where boxing became more than a sport for me but a way of life.
I’d known going into the loan process that it might be a challenge, given I’d never owned a business.
Hell, I’d never owned a car. Before retiring from fighting, I’d only spent money on things directly related to boxing—training gear, equipment, housing, my team.
I didn’t even have my own suit to wear to the loan interview—I’d borrowed my dad’s.
Today’s bank, at least, hadn’t rejected me outright.
They were willing to give me the loan despite my lack of business credit if I paid 40 percent down instead of the usual twenty.
It was great news, except that I didn’t have that much saved.
I had a fair amount—a little more than half—but without the rest, it did me no good.
Since I couldn’t start training clients until I had a gym and the only other way I’d ever made money was by fighting, I had no clue how I was going to get it.
I’d figure something out. Time was one thing I had plenty of.
Halfway to the bus stop, my phone rang.
“No way,” I joked when I answered, smiling against the cold breeze. “Is the Diego Bosques really calling me?”
Diego laughed. “The one and only. It’s been a long time, man. How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know.” I hadn’t heard from him in five years at least. We’d trained together as kids, the two of us giving Coach Lou more than one headache. While I went pro, Diego went into the business side of the sport, getting his promoter license and putting together events.
“I heard you’re back, slumming it in Philly,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I figured it was time you and Charlie had someone to keep you in line. You still revolutionizing the sport for the better?” He was the youngest boxing promoter in the US, and he and his business partner’s company, RedGloves, had singlehandedly revived the local boxing scene in Philadelphia and throughout the Northeast.
“Sure trying. We’re actually putting together an event a few months from now I thought your boy Noah might be good for.
It’s a tournament—all fighters with some tie to Philly.
Winner gets a hefty prize, and it’ll be televised across the East Coast. It’d be good promo for him if he’s thinking of going pro. ”
“Sounds like it. If he weren’t about to be too tied up training for the Olympics, I’d be all for it.”
“Hold up, really?”
I grinned ear to ear. “We just got back from selection.”
“Dude, congrats! Good for him.”
“Thanks. And hey, when he does go pro, you’ll be the first I let know.”
“I better be. I call dibs. Do me a favor and let me know if you hear of anyone else who might want into the tournament. I’ve still got a few open spots.”
“Sure thing.”
We hung up, and my resolve to figure out this loan solidified. Not only was the gym a part of my history, but I already had close ties to the area. Any fighters I trained interested in going pro would have my connections to give them a leg up in finding the right opportunities.
It was my gym as far as I was concerned. Now, I needed to find a way to make it official.
Located in an up-and-coming area of Fishtown, the gym sat on a corner of Girard Ave across from both a light rail station and bus stop.
The building had seen better days—its sand colored paint was faded and chipped, its broken windows boarded behind rusted metal bars.
Coach Lou had a hard time maintaining it after his second heart attack forced him to close its doors and retire.
It’d been sitting here since, a missing piece of the community waiting to be brought back to its former glory.
I got off the bus and made my way inside, surprised to find Coach Lou already in the office.
Still bundled in his jacket, thin white hair peeking out the bottom of his cap, he sat hunched against the edge of the desk as if the chair behind it wasn’t his place anymore.
I tossed the gym’s keys on the desk beside him and threw my suit jacket on the cot in the corner.
Coach watched it land and shook his head as if just looking at the cot made his back hurt. “I can’t believe you choose to sleep here,” he said.
“I like it. It’s familiar.”
“What about the home you grew up in? It’s got an actual bed you can sleep in.”
I flashed a grin. “I don’t need a bed. I’m not an old man like you.”
He blew out a hoarse laugh. “It’s coming for you sooner than you think.”
What I didn’t say was this cold, abandoned building felt more like home to me than the home I grew up in. That when I’d slept there after New Year’s, everything that had once felt familiar and comforting now brought nothing but shame. Like the walls themselves judged me.
“It’s helpful being here,” I told him. “Gives me inspiration for how I’ll set it up when it’s mine.”
“How’d it go with the latest bank?” he asked. “Any luck?”
“Not exactly. It wasn’t a hard no, but I’ll need more cash before they give me the loan. It might take me a bit to come up with, but I’ll keep you posted.”
We’d been meeting for lunch most of the past two weeks to talk out my business plan and break down the numbers. In fact, he was pretty much the only person I’d spent any real time with since returning from camp. I still hadn’t even told Aubrey I was back.
That I hadn’t ate at me. I wanted to see her. To tell her my every wild dream for this place so she could imagine it with me in the way only she could. She’d become one of my closest friends over the past two years. Someone I shared things with first and opened up to the easiest.
But that had all been over messages. Building that friendship in person felt bigger somehow, more permanent. And permanent wasn’t something I had a lot of experience with.
Evan’s words from the party still swam in my head, telling me the last thing she needed was another person who bailed.
I didn’t want to be that person.
I’d been telling myself I would reach out to her as soon as I got the loan. That it would be an official sign I was here for good. But it wasn’t looking like that’d be an option for a while, so I’d have to figure something else out.
Or maybe I didn’t. I was probably overthinking this. Aubrey had never been the one who cared whether I was here or how long I stayed. She wouldn’t hold it against me if I left.
“That’s actually why I stopped by,” Coach said.
I tucked away thoughts of Aubrey. “The loan?” I asked. “Did you have an idea?” He’d already agreed to sell to me for a steal, so going any lower on the price wasn’t an option. He had a long retirement ahead to pay for.
“No. It’s…well.” He rubbed his forehead, almost nervous, the blue veins in his hand pronounced through his pale and thinning skin. “A developer approached me yesterday.”
My heart dropped.
“They made me an offer on the building. A big one.”
I hid the initial panic from my voice. “Did they tell you their plans for it?”
“Said they wanted to tear it down and put up some new apartments. Something to bring in a younger crowd.”
Outside, I’d gone perfectly still. My body had dropped into boxing mode, composure on and adrenaline pumping as my pulse ran sprints through my veins.
“Did you accept?” I wouldn’t blame him if he had. The kind of money they were probably offering meant he’d never have to worry about finances again. His medical bills would be handled, and his wife could stop stressing. He could take her on vacation. Take her on a few.
“I told them I needed to think about it. Look into it more, make sure it was legit. They gave me a few months before they’ll make their offer final.”
I blew out a breath and clasped my hands on my head, the rigid material of Dad’s dress shirt pulling tight beneath my arms.
“I don’t want this place to become some fancy apartments,” Coach said. “You know that. I want you to have it. But I’ve got Cynthia to think about, and if you can’t get the loan…I don’t know if I can pass up this kind of offer.”
“I know. I wouldn’t want you to.”
His voice went hopeful. “We’ve got three months. You get the loan by then, you have my word this place is yours. If not…I’m sorry, Gabe.” The regret in his words reached his eyes, the weight of it hunching his shoulders.
He looked old. Tired like my dad. Worn from the world as much as age. From keeping this place going so long for kids like me. I didn’t want to be one more load he tried to carry.
“I get it, Coach. Really. I appreciate the three months.” I stepped forward and gave him a hug.
He slapped my back. “You can do this. I know you can.” If I didn’t find the money for the down payment, he’d have to say goodbye for good to what had once been his whole life. To what was still mine.
I couldn’t lose boxing. Couldn’t lose this chance to keep it a part of me, to solidify a new place for myself in this community. Already, it was slipping away from me, and I wouldn’t let it. Not after everything I’d lost to get here.
I walked Coach to his car, then returned to the office and sat in the desk chair. Before I could overthink it, I pulled up Diego’s number and dialed.
“How much is the purse for the tournament?” I asked when he answered.
He told me. It wasn’t world-champion money, but it was enough to get me my loan.
“I have a fighter for you,” I said.
“Really? Who?”
The only option I had left. “Me.”