2- Ariyah “Nova” Stevens
“What the fuck you steady looking at that nigga for? That’s your problem, you’re focused on everything but your career.” My stepfather/manager, Stone was snapping off while looking at me in disgust.
“I wasn’t looking at him. I was trying to see what was going on.
Besides, we’re getting food, what am I supposed to be focusing on?
” The look he gave me let me know my attitude was about to piss him off.
Stone was the type that didn’t need to yell.
His authority and connections were enough to make anyone fear him.
I knew not to fuck with him, but I never could control my mouth.
“You’re here for a meeting. Keep on talking out the side of your mouth, the same money that paid to get you out of the mess you were in, will be the same money I use to put you back.
Remember that.” I nodded in understanding.
Darion “The Fixer” Smith walked in, sat at the table, and from the look on his face, I knew this meeting wasn’t going to go in our favor.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Stone waved him off acting as if it wasn’t a bother.
“Don’t worry about it. So, tell me; who did you get her lined up with?” Stone was trying to get me a professional fight, but it was always a struggle.
“I like her.” Stone nodded with a smirk on his face.
“Good.” Darion held his hand up to stop him.
“Let me finish.” Before he said that line, I would have smiled, but everybody likes me and then they deliver a soft gut punch. “She’s a natural. Great potential. Man, she has speed, raw power, and strong athleticism. That’s the type of shit you can’t teach.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“But…” There was that word. I hated that fucking word. “She’s not ready.” Stone’s expression shifted and he looked shocked.
“What you mean? She’s been in training for years and the other fighters are not in her league.”
“Training does not mean she is developing. She fights exactly the same as she did when she first started.” I couldn’t even look at him because he was right. Nothing about me had changed besides my age. “Plus, nobody likes an emotional fighter.” Now that made me look up.
“I’m passionate, it’s a difference.” I hated when they called women weak for doing the same thing men did. The only difference was our gender, but for them it was passion, for us it was emotion. “You don’t know shit about me.” Stone threw me a look telling me to shut up without saying a word.
“You right, I don’t know you, but I know fighters.” I guess Stone got tired of us going back and forth, so he intervened.
“So, what do you suggest? I need for this to start paying out. I’ve been pouring money into this girl, and nothing has come of it.” There it was. The only reason he decided to help me was because he thought I was a payout for him.
“The Ninth Round.” I looked up at him excitedly.
“The gym?”
“Yes, and if you’re familiar with the place, you know why I’m suggesting it.
” The Ninth Round was the place fighters went to start over.
Away from the glitz and glimmer. It was raw, gritty, and extreme.
No cameras, no publicity, it was all about the sport.
They didn’t play when it came to their routines in there.
“Hold on, she already has a trainer.” Stone was now on the defensive.
“Your cousin? Let’s be for real. That nigga wouldn’t know a jab from a combo.
He’s a good guy, but he’s not a trainer.
You asked for my opinion, so I gave it. Up to you what you do with it.
If you’re asking me for help, I’m telling you, she needs an entire new corner starting with her trainer.
” I laughed under my breath causing Stone to shoot a look my way.
It wasn’t funny, I was actually masking my hurt.
This was the story of my life. No matter what I did, I was never enough.
I was tired of hearing that shit. People think that the hardest part of being a boxer is when you get hit.
That wasn’t the truth at all. The worst part was the looks you get when you don’t hit back.
See, nobody remembers when you controlled the fight and was leading the score cards.
They only remember how many you missed, when you slipped, or got knocked down.
That’s what sticks in their minds. When you weren’t enough.
I’ve had enough of that shit for a lifetime.
Standing up, I walked out and got in my car.
I wanted to cry, but I fought back the tears.
I drove around until I ended up in front of The Ninth Round.
Grabbing my phone, I called the only friend I had.
I had met Charlotte during the time of my conviction.
She was in there on a possession, but she had that white money, so instead of the state penitentiary, she was put in the academy.
Charlotte’s mother was black, and her father was white, but that baby was definitely a nigga.
“Hey bestie, what you doing?”
“I just had a meeting and they basically told me I wasn’t a good enough fighter and I need to start over from scratch.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I need to go to a gym where nobody knows who you are or what you’ve accomplished. Just your skill.”
“Okay, either I’m slow or I don’t see what the problem is.” I looked at the phone and laughed. She had a way of not reading the room that always surprised me. Cus how you don’t see what the hell I’m saying?
“Charly, really?”
“What? I’m genuinely asking.”
“I just told you he said I’m not enough, so I need to start over and you saying what’s the problem. I’ve been fighting for years and I’m in the same spot I was when I started. That shit hurts and of course Stone is only pissed because all he heard was, I still wasn’t about to produce a big payout.”
“Fuck Stone. I don’t care what he thinks, but if this is what you really want to do then why not get the help that will help you be your best?
If I have a gift, I would want to perfect it as much as I could.
I get you feel like your life is at a standstill, but he didn’t just tell you no.
He gave you the means to fix it, so he can say yes.
” Hearing her say that gave me a new perspective.
“You lucky that makes sense or I was on my way over there.”
“Whooaaa now champ. I don’t want any problems you know I can’t fight. Black lives matter. You’re pretty, you’re important. How much more do I need to say to stop you from wanting to beat my ass?” I was now laughing hard and in a better mood.
“Bye, Charly.” Hanging up the phone, I got out of my car and looked up at the sign.
The name of the gym spoke volumes. Anybody in the sport will tell you the ninth round is the hardest in boxing.
By that time most people are tired, winded, and beaten so badly they can barely hang on.
So, naming it that tells me this shit wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
Grabbing the door, I took a deep breath and walked inside.
“Here goes nothing,” I said out loud as I entered.