Six
“Miss. You can’t play that radio in here.”
“Why not? They’re dead.”
“It’s a matter of respect.”
“But what if they like Pearl Jam?”
“Suit yourself. I’m just the cleaner. I’d turn it off if security comes around.”
“What’s your name?”
“Henry.”
“Thanks for looking out for me, Henry.”
“Sure, miss. My condolences. I’ll leave you in peace now.”
“Ciao, Tesoro... I’m brushing up on my Italian.
In case you’re wondering what that means, it means, ‘Hi, my treasure.’ Sorry about the music.
I don’t want to get Henry in trouble. Ready for the big update?
I might have fucked up with my own personal Santa.
He didn’t like my story idea. I don’t blame him.
I was messing with him to see if he really is legit.
I don’t even have an Uncle Pete! I don’t know, but Santa wants to have dinner tonight at Piacere Mio, that fancy Italian place we could never afford.
I’m guessing he thinks I won’t cause a scene if he fires me in public.
He’s not going to fire me, is he? I’ll order a bunch of stuff.
Expensive stuff. Just in case. I’ll even get those stuffed meat rolls.
What are they called? Braciole? I know you love those.
Loved those, I mean. Remember when I tried to make them for you?
They turned out terrible, but you told me they were delicious and even licked your plate.
I knew you were lying. There wasn’t enough sauce, so they came out burned and dry as hell.
We even had a stupid fight about it. Remember?
I really wish that I could have a do-over.
I wish I could take back every idiotic thing I said when I was mad or upset.
Wait, love. Do you get to eat up there? What a dumb question.
Anyway, I’ll let you know what happens with Santa, honey.
Oh... I almost forgot. I bought you a toy puppy, but I gave it to a homeless woman.
I know you would have done the same thing. I heart you.”
Cable’s new name is Punisher, because that’s what training feels like today. Punishment. I told him it was Nick’s fault I was late. I quickly learned that there isn’t a sympathetic bone in Cable’s body. “Next time, he better be dead! Now get to work!”
The big fight is in ten days. My opponent has been M.I.A for three weeks. The Anvil trains at a different gym, but we have spies, just like they send guys over to Phoenix to spy on us.
“What’d you eat today?”
Earlier, I finished a defensive sparring session with Tiko that focused on practicing dodges and blocks. I asked for Tiko personally since his name is synonymous with strength, power, and resilience, three traits I hoped would rub off on me.
“I didn’t have time.”
Cable was red-faced. Part of a boxer’s training includes psychological preparation, and stressing about my own manager wasn’t helping me do my mental gymnastics.
“What do you mean? You didn’t eat? You’re supposed to eat every two hours! Food is fuel. No junk! Now, pick up that kettlebell and don’t let it hit your balls. It’s supposed to go between your legs.”
“Lay off, would you!?”
“What’d you just say to me?”
“You’ve been pushing me hard all afternoon. Plus, you’re being an asshole about it.”
A wrinkled smile formed on his lips. I thought he was going to have a coronary. “Finally.”
“Finally, what?”
“Anger, kid. Anger hits hard. Let it out! What’s on your mind?”
Not what. Who.
Cable once told me that he’d rather swim in shark-infested waters than be married.
He said that he was born free and the idea of being shackled to someone else is an archaic concept.
We’re animals, and animals procreate, but as he so eloquently put it, “You can’t dress up a monkey in a tuxedo and have it vow to love, honor, and obey, for the rest of its life”.
He was staring at my lips, willing the words to spill from my mouth.
Instead, I evaded the question the same way ma used to do with pop.
My father always knew when my mother was upset about something because she’d keep herself busy by cleaning an already spotless house.
When I was a kid and was too hyper to sleep, I used to sit at the top of the stairs and listen to my parents.
One night, pop asked ma what was bothering her, and instead of admitting the truth, she gossiped.
“You know what that puttana Carlotta did today?”
Channeling ma, I said, “You know what some jerk at Farm Fresh did today?”
“Tell me.”
Cable is more than my trainer and manager. He’s a father figure to me. Right now, he’s sporting a stern fatherly look on his face.
“He rushed in line at the checkout to cut in front of a little old lady who only had two items. The jerk’s cart was full.”
“That is a jerk move,” Cable said, his expression softening. Every line on his face told a story. The deeper lines spoke of tragedies. The shallow ones were placed there by life’s comedies.
“Yeah. I said to him, ‘Excuse me, sir, but I think this nice lady was here first.’”
“Hmm. What did he say to that?”
“The guy said, ‘I know, and I’m sorry, but my wife is coming home from the hospital today. The doctors didn’t think she was going to make it. I’m on my way to pick her up, but I wanted to stock up first so I could stay home and take care of her.’”
Cable was sitting on his overturned bucket rubbing his pocket watch between his fingers, presumably to convey to me that time is precious and to shut the hell up.
“And then the little old lady handed him her strawberries and whip cream and told him that strawberries and whip cream are nature’s medicine.”
“What’s your point, kid?”
Thinking of Alex, her soulful eyes, and her use of alcohol as a crutch, I said, “Not everyone has cruel intentions. I have a dinner meeting I need to attend. I promise I’ll be here tomorrow at the crack of dawn.” I gathered my gear and before leaving, I added, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
Cable nodded. “Don’t forget to bring her flowers.”