He nodded and disappeared through the door from which Dani came.
She closed the door behind Shakes and walked toward Jack. God, she looked fantastic. She retained her look of sleek professionalism, dressed in a black blazer paired with matching pants. Her low-cut white blouse was a delicate mix of siren and serious businesswoman. Her hair, soft and shiny, hung long over her shoulders, and curled in a way that made him want to reach out and touch every strand.
Jack took in a quick peek, then lowered his head. He wanted the image of her burned into his brain. Considering that after today she may never speak to him again, he needed to remember just how beautiful she was. Because he was sure no other woman would ever compare to her.
“Shakes told me you slept on the floor of his room.”
He shrugged and glanced at her. “It’s okay. I’ve slept in worse places.”
She shot him a look as if she didn’t doubt he had.
“I thought I’d stop by and see you before I saw Clarke.” She moved over to where Jack sat, and took the chair beside his.
“Got papers to sign?”
“I guess I do.”
He noticed her eyes were moving across his body from head to toe, as if she were silently evaluating him. “You look good, Jack.”
His heart warmed. “Thanks.”
“No. Really. I know we’re in a weird place, but you really worked hard to prepare for this fight. I’m proud of all you’ve done.” She placed a hand on his knee.
He focused on the spot where she touched him until her hand lifted and moved away.
“The money is really going to help the gym recover. Mike will book more fights and Trevor can quit the club.”
Any response he might have managed got choked in his throat.
She propped her free hand on her hip. “Got your strategy for tonight?”
He nodded. “Does it matter? Clarke paid the judges off, so the plan is the same as it’s always been. I’m going to fight for me. I have to. I didn’t train this hard for nothing.”
Another knock on the door interrupted them. This time an official-looking man walked in. He wore a button-down shirt and sports coat and identified himself with the International Boxing Organization. “I’m here to inspect your hands.”
The official donned his glasses and made his way over to where Jack sat.
Jack produced his hands for inspection. The official took his left, then his right, turning his hands palm facing up, and drew a measuring tape from his pocket. The IBO followed the correct prefight procedures. If there were any other way for Stamina to survive other than by selling his contract, Jack would stop the whole thing. But this time he knew he had no choice other than to take one for the team.
The man measured the tape’s thickness, and once he seemed satisfied, he took out a marker from his pocket and initialed Jack’s tape.
“You’re good to go. Good luck tonight.” The man dipped his head and left.
Luck had nothing to do with boxing. Professional fighting was about talent and heart. And the worst part was that he wouldn’t get to show the world how Dani had put his heart back into the sport he loved.
Daniella rose from her seat. She placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’d say good luck, but, well . . .” She allowed her voice to trail off.
He nodded. “I know. I liked it better when you hated me.”
“Me too.” And with that, she turned, and he knew when the door closed she would be out of his professional and his personal life for good.
Chapter Thirty-three
In his former fights, now would be the time where the entourage rolled in. The managers and trainers, friends and groupies, anyone who could make his team seem more intimidating would crowd into the dressing room and pump him up for the short walk to the ring.
Tonight Jack sat alone in his dressing room, listening to the sound of the crowd just beyond the door. He never expected to end his career this way, with his mother’s fears realized. He was about to become a punching bag, an aimless punch-drunk boxer.
Waiting, his memories trailed back to his last meeting with his mom. She’d come to his apartment, knocked on the door, and found him sending some one-night stand on her way. The frown on Adele’s face screamed her disapproval. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled.
“I’m leaving,” she had said, “and I’m not coming back.” She’d slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door when he didn’t respond.
What did she expect him to do? Beg? Plead? Hell, it took him a few minutes to realize her words were real. She and Gary always did have a flair for the dramatic.
But she didn’t leave. Not at first. She’d stopped at the door, and Jack knew now that she’d paused to take one last look. “We should’ve left this awful place when you were young, before you got sucked in.”
“You always said cocktail waitressing at the casinos brought in more cash than anywhere else.” He’d thrown the excuse she’d used for staying in Vegas back in her face. Money. The root of all evil. The more you had, the more people wanted from you. Adele supported their family on the take, scamming tourists for tips. She’d shown her tits once or twice for an extra fifty bucks. A fact, back in the day, she’d prided herself on. Truth was there wasn’t anything Adele wouldn’t do when she got strapped for cash.
That day, standing in his apartment, purse strap perched on her shoulder like a weapon, she told him that she loved him but she had to go. At the time he thought she’d been overly theatrical. Staging a performance because news had spread that R. L. was considering taking his fighters overseas.
He’d watched her leave. Jack remembered the pang in his chest. His heart ached and broke. He loved his mother. But as quickly as she’d left him, anger filled the gaping hole where his love for her had been. He wondered if he’d inherited his selfishness from her, like his blue eyes and blond hair. Clearly they both possessed an egocentric gene.
The noise from the arena brought him back to the present.
Life was a bitch, full of regrets. His dream of going out on top faded into the ether. And like it or not, his mother had been right. While R. L. had believed his prized fighter would become world champion, his mom had always been right to worry that eventually, Jack would just be used like a mule. He couldn’t bear to think what R. L. would have thought. The fact that his daughter had to sell out to a man like Clarke to keep Stamina alive would have sickened him.
The door opened and Clarke walked inside. “Let’s go. They’re ready for you.” He entered the room, and helped Jack lace up his gloves.
Tension built in his biceps. He couldn’t stomach boxing for a guy like Clarke, especially when he’d be used as a human punching bag. He didn’t train for this. He didn’t work so hard for all those months for his career to end like this. During his time with Daniella, if he’d learned anything, he’d learned that when his head, heart, and body worked together, anything could happen.
Clarke finished lacing his gloves and Jack followed him from the room.
As he strode out of the dressing room, his anger rose to the surface. Jeers and boos filled his ears. Unruly fans hooted mocking sounds, trying to psych him out. Jack kept his gaze forward and pictured R. L.’s face in his mind.
His body filled with determination, strength, and power.
With a quick glance at Clarke, Jack’s fury rose up again. He wasn’t a trainer. He wasn’t a manager. Clarke was a cheat, a liar, and a man who didn’t deserve to have any young boxer putting a career in his hands. Clarke insulted the sport. He made money off other people’s misfortune. He relished in their demise.
Jack’s stomach rolled. Acid rose up inside him, fueling him, charging him. Endorphins flowed through his brain, kicking his anticipation into high gear. His muscles tightened. With his head up and shoulders back, Jack strutted to the ring.
He crossed the ropes. On the canvas, he bounced on his toes. Then he rolled his neck from side to side, loosening the muscles needed to d
uck Cortez’s mighty right hand. Jack warmed up.
Music pumped into the arena. A spotlight shone on the opposite side of the room. Cortez walked out from his dressing room. Surrounded by a swath of coaches, trainers, handlers and front men, the contender shadowboxed, throwing punches in the air as he traveled to the ring. The crowd erupted in applause. If only those cheers were for Jack.
He knew they weren’t.
Fans waved signs into the air, bearing the name “Boom Boom Cortez.” Women yelled out to him. Men, clapping their hands, stood and lifted their fists in support of him as he passed by. Jack’s opponent played to the crowd. He stopped, posed, and flexed his muscles for photos, feeding the fans’ hysteria.
Jack seethed. All the training, the dedication, and the hard work had built up to this moment. Jack thrust out his chest. He was no one’s career gateway. He ground his teeth, keeping Cortez in his sights.
Jack dropped onto the stool in his corner. Clarke entered the ring and walked in front of him. “You know what to do. Give them a show. But you need to be prepared to go down.” And with that, his new owner left him on his own.
He turned his head to the side. Shakes gave a nod of acknowledgement. He sat in the first row, fulfilling his duty as Jack’s cut man. Someone struck the bell three times, indicating the start of the fight.
Jack and Cortez walked to the middle of the ring. A man with a microphone proceeded with the formal introductions. Fans booed at the sound of Jack’s name. His pulse raced. He’d show them. All of them. He wouldn’t screw over Daniella—he’d lose the fight, but he planned to go down swinging.
The referee asked them to touch gloves. He bumped Cortez’s gloves and gave him a little push. Because why not? At this point he had nothing to lose. He intended to deliver the fan favorite one hell of a beat down.
After all his training, the least he could do was show Dani her efforts had amounted to something.
The bell rang, starting the fight.
Both boxers held their hands up, delivered straight right-hand punches, testing each other out. A hum settled over the crowd. Jack threw a left hook. His punch connected and slid off Cortez’s brow. His opponent’s head jerked back. Vibrations traveled inside Jack’s glove, up the front of his forearm. At the sound of leather hitting flesh, noise from the crowd amplified. No one there wanted Jack to win.
Little did they know they’d get their wish.
Cortez punched. Jack bobbed his head, ducking a punch aimed for his left eye. Sweat poured from his brow. Good. Sweat would help punches slide from his head. He dodged another. His opponent bobbed and weaved, and just before he threw a punch, Cortez gave a tiny squint.
Jack noted the visual cue that identified Cortez’s weakness. Head, heart, and body. Cortez didn’t have it in him, but Jack did. Jack threw up a hand and blocked Cortez’s shot. This was it. His time. Mind and body working together. He delivered a quick one-two. Head, body, head, body. He boxed Cortez into the corner. The crowd screamed.
Cortez doubled over as Jack kept up his assault. He penetrated to the inside, knocking Cortez left to right until the man could barely stand. With a gloved hand, Cortez pushed Jack back.
Jack drew in a breath and came back at him, ready to fire off another blow. Power built in his shoulders. And when Cortez squinted once more, Jack delivered a right cross, the power shot landed between Cortez’s eyes.
Cortez stumbled, and then slumped onto the canvas.
Jack, still bouncing on his toes, backed off and let the referee intervene. Low tones emitted from the crowd. The ref started to count. Cortez didn’t appear as if he were going to get up. Cortez drew his knees to his chest, curled and defeated. The ref continued to count and stopped when he reached ten.
The bell rang.
Jack stood back, amazed. Cortez lay on the floor unconscious, knocked out. He felt his eyes widen in shock.
The referee grabbed Jack’s arm and raised his gloved hand into the air. He had won. Jack felt as if he were standing outside his body, watching the night unfold. Breathing hard, he looked ringside to find Shakes. The old man wore a look of pure pleasure, and met Jack’s eye with a wink.
Quickly he scanned the crowd for Dani. He found her and tried to read the mysterious look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her face was ashen. His former manager and trainer looked as if she were going to be sick. Confusion rattled him for a second, before he remembered the contract. If she had signed it, this win had just put her and Stamina in the grave. What had he done?
Jack looked at her more closely, remembering that Dani responded viscerally when plans didn’t play out just the way she thought they would. She pressed her hand to her stomach and ran to him amid the crowd. And her delighted expression told him everything was going to be okay.
His papers hadn’t been signed.
He was still hers.
She made her way to the aisle, dodging the men who blocked her path. His gaze didn’t leave her as the referee came up from behind Jack. Piercing sounds of the bell rang out through the packed arena concluding the fight. He had won.
He had won.
Jack swallowed hard, and for a moment he lost sight of her in the sea of people.
“Jack! Jack!” Daniella screamed.
Clarke reached for his arm. Jack shook him off. He made his way across the ring to his corner. Shakes helped Dani through the ropes. In two giant steps, she nearly leapt into his gloved hands. He covered her face with tiny kisses—her cheek, her forehead, and oh God, her mouth. Without words, he crushed his lips to hers. All the months of training and sacrifice came out in that kiss.
She returned his kiss deep and hard. Thrusting his tongue against hers, his body ached to have her naked, and soon.
She tasted of strawberries. He’d be sure to order some champagne to go along with her kisses the minute they got back to the room.
Shakes called his name. He didn’t care. Who the fuck cared that they were standing in the corner of the ring, she with her back up against the ropes and him pressing into her as if they were the only two in the room.
Breathless, she pulled back from him. “You did it! Oh my God. You did it. You won!”
He grinned. “What happened? You didn’t sign Clarke’s contract?”
She shook her loose brown hair. “Of course I couldn’t sign the contract. I meant what I said in Tahoe. People matter more, Jack. I’m never letting you go.”
His heart swelled. “Damn right, you’re not. Not ever.” With the taste of her still lingering on his tongue, he felt like the luckiest man alive. He wrapped her in his arms and closed his mouth over hers once more.
Chapter Thirty-four
Dani kept her eyes focused on Jack. “I love you.” As the words escaped her lips, the announcer officially proclaimed him the winner. The crowd voiced their displeasure. A fight broke out in the corner of the room. It didn’t take long before security jumped in and stamped out heated tempers. Cortez’s people lifted him up and placed him on a stool. Smelling salts waved underneath the fighter’s nose. Clarke slapped Cortez’s cheek desperately, trying to bring Cortez back to the present.
Shakes ushered Jack to his dressing room. Worried for her own safety, Daniella rose from the chair and followed Shakes and Jack down the hall and through the door. Once inside, Jack sat down in a chair and Shakes began to unlace his gloves. Both men spoke in low voices.
Shakes pulled off one glove. Before he started untying the other, Dani said, “I’ll take it from here.” At her words, Shakes backed off, and taking her hint, left them alone.
Jack untied his glove with his free hand. Sweat poured from his very being. His face, covered with perspiration, had started to swell. He fiddled with the laces, unable to loosen them.
Daniella took over. Her eyes met his and she kissed him. “I’m so proud of you. You fought to win. You trained so hard. You deserved that win.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
She couldn’t imagine the look on Mike a
nd Trevor and Bulldog’s faces if she’d had to tell them she had sold Jack’s contract. She was glad she didn’t have to.
Now the time had come for her to confess. “When I left your dressing room, I met Clarke in the arena. He brought the papers. He had this all planned. He told me to sign them, and waited rather impatiently. Once he’d had enough of my stalling, he disappeared into your dressing room. I thought I could sign the papers releasing you to him. I couldn’t.”
Jack’s jaw tightened.
“You trained hard. You were so ready. When I came into your dressing room, and you told me that you hadn’t come this far for nothing, I knew you could beat Cortez. And you did.”
He swallowed hard.
“I realized there’s no Stamina gym without you. My father is gone. If you’re gone too, there’s no heart or soul in the gym. Sure, there’s the legacy. But that’s just a name. Stamina was built on heart, and if the two biggest hearts who loved that place are gone, the gym wouldn’t be the same.”
His brow drew down. “The winner’s purse will help us now. I wish it would take care of everything, but it won’t.”
“We’ll make the money work. In fact, now we have to work even harder because you have to fight for the world championship. Sure, we’re going to have to watch our expenses and maybe start those classes as soon as we can. It’ll be a struggle, but it’ll be so worth it.” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
Jack’s eyes widened, like two sponges absorbing the reality of what was going down. He’d won. The next fight on his fight card would be for the world title. And the ride wouldn’t be easy.
“We’re not losing Stamina, and I’m not losing the championship.” They both knew a championship win would extinguish the debt and allow Stamina a fresh start.
Jack tugged off his other glove. Daniella helped him remove the tape around his hands and then he pressed his lips to hers with a parting kiss. When they were finished, Jack stood up, grabbed a towel from his gym bag, and headed for the shower.
Fighting for It Page 17
