Seventeen
“Who put this shit on?”
Cable hobbled over to the radio and punched it before turning it off.
Stan, who’s been on the receiving end of Cable’s tirades, rolled his eyes.
I was in a great mood, despite the stench in the locker room.
The arena manager told me that it was probably caused by the decaying carcass of a dead skunk, but they haven’t found the body.
“You don’t like ‘I’m Too Sexy’?”
“Focus, kid!”
“I was focusing. On Right Said Fred.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Fred who? And right about what?”
“That’s the singer’s name. Right. Said. Fred. He’s too sexy for his shirt.”
Stan laughed so hard, he had to sit down.
“Jesus H. Christ. It’s a gong show in here.”
I’ve seen so much of Cable in the past two weeks that I’ve started to mimic his sarcastic nature. Training paid off. I dropped the extra weight I was carrying, and perfected my uppercut, but all I really cared about was that it would be over soon, and I could spend quality time with Alex.
As I do before every fight, I talked to my mother.
She sounded tired, but I didn’t mention it, and I didn’t ask if she was going to Church.
A year ago, we had a major winter storm, and ma was forced to pray for me the traditional way – kneeling at her bedside with her rosary beads.
After she learned that I won the fight, she said, “See? God is everywhere. But He prefers we visit Him at His house.”
“Knock, knock.”
“Nobody’s home,” Cable grumbled, walking past Alex who had knocked on the doorjamb. Scanning the room, she walked towards where I was sitting.
“What’s the matter with him?”
“Don’t mind him. He’s been grumpy since they cancelled Bonanza. I’m so happy to see you.” Alex stood between my knees and placed her hands on my thighs before kissing me.
“Does it always smell like this in here?”
“Not always. Sucks that it’s today when you’re here.”
She kissed the tip of my nose. “I don’t mind.”
“Did you finish your chapter?”
“Yes, and I can’t wait for you to read it. I changed the part that takes place at the ski resort. I think I’ll keep my characters in the secluded cabin.”
“I liked the resort scene. But you’re the author.
And a damn good one.” Alex’s talent has become evident in every word.
We transformed the second bedroom into an office, and my favorite time of day is when she’s writing, and I can hear the keys tapping.
The sound is akin to the crickets that sing at night when the world is serene, and nothing feels impossible.
“Oh. Nick called. I told him you already left, but he wishes you luck. Plus, he said that when you win, you better pay your bar tab.”
Nick’s kids were sick with the flu. Normally, he’d never miss one of my fights. “He’s been saying that for years. What are you staring at?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just your sexy abs.”
“You’ve seen my abs, baby.”
“I know, but.. Bow Chica Wow Wow.”
“What does that mean?” It would probably take me a lifetime to understand Alex’s sense of humor.
“You know... sexy adult film music.”
Playfully, I slapped her ass. “You’re hilarious, and brilliant, and you’re the love of my life.”
“Who? This her?”
“Hi,” Alex told Cable. “I’m Alex.”
“How’d a bum like you get a girl like this to like you?”
It was the same question I’ve asked myself countless times. “Alex, this is Cable. He’s like a father to me. A mean one, but still like a father.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Alex said.
“Likewise. The kid better focus on the fight. Don’t be distracting him.”
“Um... I won’t. I promise.”
“Mean...” he mumbled, walking away. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
“Too late,” I told Alex. “You’re already distracting me.”
“Shit. Should I go?” She was playing with my hair and alternately breathing in my ear – something she knew drove me crazy with desire.
“Not on your life,” I said, pulling her closer. “We only have a minute before the fight.”
“You haven’t told me about this guy you’re fighting.”
Scarpetta was a trial horse, or a “test boxer” for fighters like me, used to ultimately gauge his opponent’s ability to step-up in class.
His boxer’s name is borrowed from the Italian word that translates to “little shoe”.
It refers to the act of using a piece of bread to scoop up the last bit of sauce, and since Scarpetta used to wrestle and would literally scoop up his opponent, the name stuck.
“He looks tough, but he’s not a threat.”
“Are you sure he’s not a threat?”
“Abso-fuckin-lutely.”
“Let’s go!” Cable screamed.
“I have to go, baby.”
I wanted to cling to each second, but there wasn’t any time. I didn’t even have time for my usual chat with pop.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me after the fight,” I said, kissing her.
“Let’s go! Christ!”
“I think Cable is going to lose it. Do you know where you’re sitting?”
“I... yes. Second row.”
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
“Wait!”
“Are you okay, baby?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hands on my chest. “What’s your favorite ice cream?”
“That’s a funny question.”
“I know. But we’ve never had an official date. Everyone asks that silly question on a date.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I whispered in her ear. “Mint chocolate chip.”
In the first three minutes of the fight, I barely broke a sweat.
Cable jabbered on during the golden minute.
My cornerman offered me water and a towel, along with the usual advice to control my breathing, while my cutman cleaned my eye.
When I found where Alex was sitting in the second row, a sense of calm washed over me, but also a sense of excitement. I wanted to impress her.
Scarpetta is visibly angry. He knows he’s outclassed.
He hasn’t landed any punches, and my smile – the one that says you’re mine – is pissing him off.
He has no fans in the crowd. No one is chanting his name.
I’m toying with him. He snarls; I hum. He swings; I weave.
He growls; I sing a few lyrics. It’s all about giving the spectators their money’s worth, because Scarpetta knows this is done.
He knows he never had a chance. He’s struggling; I’m dancing.
I can see Alex is standing, and jumping, and stretching one arm like boxers do in their victory stance.
I pull my punches to trick him, an easy task, and seconds before the bell rings to end the round, my head slips to miss his punch.
As I’m returning to my corner, cocky, spirited, alive, all I can hear are screams and someone calling my name, and all I can see is the canvas before my world goes black.
My eyes are swollen shut.
Soft murmurings resonate from an unknown area.
An incessant beeping fills my ears.
Beep... beep... beep.
I can’t move.
I can’t speak; my voice is gone.
I know where I am, yet I choose to believe I’m having a nightmare.
Beep... beep... beep.
Someone of authority walks in.
I can hear their footsteps and can sense their movements as they pull a wire and reposition my pillow.
It’s the Goddamn Holiday Inn for cripples.
Beep... beep... beep.
In my mind, my life is dissolving.
Saccharine memories turn saline.
A pleasant voice feigns concern and asks the token question.
There is no response.
Beep... beep... beep.
The nurse leaves.
Her shift has ended.
She is free.
Beep... beep... beep.
Someone is holding my hand.
Her long hair tickles as she rests her head on the bed.
She doesn’t make a sound, because I know that she’s afraid that if she does, she won’t be able to hear me breathing.