His loss couldn’t compare to Daniella’s, but at least he was beginning to understand how she felt. Still, he had a fight to win. So he stopped concentrating on what he didn’t have and focused on what he did.
The atmosphere at Bally’s was so unlike what he’d experienced in London; there were too many differences to count. For starters, instead of the nervous tension that usually plagued him before a fight, Jack rested in a meditative state. Confidence replaced his worries, which wasn’t the only change. The floors of his dressing room shone. The place was not only clean, but immaculate. He wasn’t hidden away in some grimy corner room with folks like Clarke walking in and out at will.
No, security stood posted at Jack’s door. Not only did the guards protect the safety of the boxers, but the crowd as well. Officials from the Nevada Boxing Commission stayed onsite. One official inspected Jack’s taped hands three times. Even Shakes was impressed.
“Well, this is it,” Shakes said. “I can’t tell you how proud R. L. would be if he were here.”
Jack nodded in agreement. He knew R. L. would be pleased if he’d seen Jack fight for the championship. However, Jack honestly didn’t know if he’d have ever made it here without Dani. All his successes, from the day she burst through his apartment door, were due to her.
She was the one who had sobered him up. She had changed his diet. She had trained him harder than he’d ever worked out before. Without Daniella entering his life, he might not have even fought for the championship, and he certainly wouldn’t have fought for it as the changed man he was now.
Shakes reached into his training bag and drew out a tube of Vaseline. He applied the grease to Jack’s forehead and cheeks. “It’s not against regulations for me to shine you up. Sokoloff is a quick power hitter, but in case he misses and grazes you, I want his glove to slide right off.”
Through the walls, a muffled announcement blasted through the arena that the fight was about to start. Cheers from the audience rose into the air, and the muffled applause penetrated Jack’s dressing room. Fans chanted, “USA, USA.”
Jack, the fan favorite. Who knew? The fact still amazed him.
Shakes busied himself with sorting out all of the materials Jack would need for the fight. “I’m working your corner. I got the cut kit, but I’m not worried about opening wounds tonight. This is your fight. You own it. Sokoloff is going down.”
Jack’s muscles twitched. “Hell yeah, he is.”
In the days leading up to the bout, Sokoloff’s public relations team took to the airwaves in an attempt to drum up support for the current champion. Jack found peace in hearing the crowd’s chanting. Team Sokoloff’s attempt to overhaul his image had failed. Like it or not, the fight for the heavyweight championship started to look like something out of Rocky IV. Jack didn’t buy in to the media hype. He’d trained for this. He had a plan. All he needed now was for the starting bell to ring.
The dressing room door opened. Daniella walked inside, as cool and confident as ever. She’d dressed in her black pants and button-down shirt. Embroidered on her shirt was a small Stamina logo, right above her breast. She wore her hair long, just the way Jack liked it. Holding a giant bag, she said, “Everything’s on the up and up. It looks like we’re set to go. We’re only missing on thing.”
Panic squeezed his heart and Jack stood up. “What’s that?”
She slipped her hand into the bag and drew out a shiny black robe. The giant Stamina logo was sewn onto the luxurious silk, and took up the width of Jack’s back. “Shouldn’t every championship fighter have one of these?”
His mouth dropped open. Shakes let out a whistle.
“Well.” She held up the robe. “What do you think?”
He moved to her and hugged her as best he could with gloved hands. “It’s awesome. But you shouldn’t have. It must’ve cost a fortune.”
She brushed a quick kiss to his lips. “I saved up for it. Besides, you deserve it.”
He admired the robe. “It’s perfect.”
Daniella pursed her face. “No.” She shook her head. “Something else is wrong. Something’s still missing.” Then she winked.
“Baby, we can’t get naked until after the fight.” He played along.
“No. I meant that you’re missing your entourage.” Daniella opened the door with a smile. Mike strolled in, followed by Trevor and Bulldog. Each man grabbed Jack in a one-armed hug. All the guys had dressed in Stamina T-shirts and sported the logo with pride.
“You got this, brother,” Mike said, clapping Jack on the shoulder
“You better win,” Trevor chimed in, “because I will give you lots of grief if you don’t.”
“Besides, Sokoloff’s a big pussy,” Bulldog, the smallest member of the team, added. “He’ll probably cry when you hit him.”
All the guys laughed.
“All right, all right.” Daniella worked to tone down the party. “I thought you guys were here for silent support. Jack needs to mentally prepare.”
“We’re just getting our boy revved up,” Trevor responded. “Tonight belongs to Jack. He’s got this.”
“You know it,” Mike agreed.
Daniella gave the guys a winning smile. Just then a knock sounded at the door, interrupting the team’s conversation.
Daniella opened the door. A small woman stepped forward. She wore her hair piled high on her head. The style showed off her deep blue eyes, blue like her son’s.
Gary, with pride beaming from his face, walked into the room behind Adele. Jack’s giant heart squeezed at the sight. Adele was still the same petite woman, but her skin held a shiny glow he didn’t remember. Her eyes weren’t tired or bloodshot, a look he’d grown so accustomed to in his youth. Her clothing was new, or at the very least well-cared for, an immediate sign that the changes she’d made were for the better.
Jack took in the sight of his mother.
“Oh Jack. Look at you. I’m so sorry I never believed in you.” Happiness beamed from her, and a satisfied smile blossomed on her face. “Look how you’ve grown.”
“Mom.” Jack swallowed. “It’s . . . good to see you. Thanks for coming.”
His mother embraced him. He hugged her as best he could with gloved hands. Then he released her and made his way back to Dani.
Immediately Daniella wrapped her arms around Adele and hugged her. “Thank you for coming. Jack and I are thrilled to have you here.”
The wrinkled skin around Adele’s mouth drew up into a smile. “I couldn’t believe my son was going to be the next world champion until I heard you were the one behind getting him here.”
Dani’s grin widened. “I hope you’ll stay after the fight.” And to his surprise, Adele agreed.
What Trevor had said was absolutely true. No matter what happened or how the fight ended, tonight was Jack’s night. There, in front of his mother, Gary, and all the guys from Stamina, he kissed Dani. Deep and slow, he pressed his lips to hers and showed his love for her to everyone in the room.
Everyone who mattered.
In that moment, he had it all.
From just beyond the dressing room, the music cranked up. Shakes opened the door. “That’s our cue.”
With Shakes’s spoken words, it was as if an electric current had zipped through the room. The team, reenergized, gathered their belongings and readied for their entrance into the arena. Team Stamina was met by their security escort. Bulldog headed out the door first, followed by Trevor and Mike. They acted as Jack’s personal bodyguards, even though there was no threat against him. The showing was about gym pride, and Stamina possessed it tenfold.
Daniella slipped the robe over Jack’s shoulders. The heavyweight followed his brothers, with Daniella and Shakes flanking his sides. The night had arrived. He’d trained his entire career for this moment and it was finally happening.
With a quick look back at Gary and Adele, he stepped from the dressing room. “Security will help you to your seats,” he said just as a spotlight lit up the area aroun
d him. Applause from the crowd lifted into the air. Jack stayed focused. Amid the noise and thunderous outbursts from the audience, Jack’s eyes locked onto the ring. Together Team Stamina moved forward, walking toward his fate.
Halfway to the ring, a second spotlight illuminated Sokoloff. Jack’s point of concentration didn’t waver. The ring, and his plan to take Sokoloff down, stayed paramount in his mind. This was his fight to win. Losing was not an option.
He climbed through the ropes and took up residence in his corner. Sokoloff soon followed at the opposite end of the ring. Shakes climbed into the ring with Jack. Daniella, like most managers, hung on the ropes.
Unlike Sokoloff, Jack didn’t drop down on a stool before the fight. He stood, sizing up his opponent.
Just above the noise from the crowd, Daniella rattled off her last-minute coaching. “Stay focused. If he’s quick, be quicker. Watch your footwork and don’t drop your left arm.” Then she added, “Good luck. I love you.”
His eyes shifted off Sokoloff and onto hers. “I love you, too.” A surge of adrenaline shot through his body, sending his heart into overdrive.
Shakes double-checked everything, patted Jack’s gloves for luck, and said, “Trevor’s right. You got this, champ.” Then he climbed out of the ring and assumed his position in Jack’s corner.
At the sound of the singular bell, both fighters met in the center of the ring for introductions. As expected, even though Sokoloff held the title, his golden belt didn’t win adoration of the fans. The announcer yelled, “Let’s get ready to ruuuuuummmmble.” The twelve thousand people in the room erupted in excitement.
Both men retreated to their corners for introductions. At second bell, the heavyweights came out swinging.
As expected, Sokoloff started off quick. The big man, weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, worked Jack’s body, landing punches to the inside. He landed two rapid uppercuts in quick succession.
Jack’s body absorbed the shock. A ricochet of pain shot through his abdominals, but then subsided. Sheer toughness beat out the pain he felt every time. He took a step back and put some distance between himself and Sokoloff. In boxing, the uppercut is the most difficult shot to anticipate. And now Jack had been struck twice. The mistake would not happen again.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jack moved to the center of the ring. He landed a perfect left hand to Sokoloff’s face. Spit and sweat flew off his opponent. Again, Jack pressed forward. Closing in on Sokoloff’s body, he landed a one-two combination. The crowd cheered after the ringing bell.
He moved into his corner and sat down. Blood dripped from his mouth. In seconds, Shakes jumped in front of him, holding a cold-press. Silver metal pushed into his cheek.
“Just a cut, nothing major,” Shakes addressed him. “Need more shine, baby, need more shine.” The old man smeared another glob of Vaseline onto Jack’s face.
Daniella’s voice trailed over his shoulder. She had fifteen seconds to give advice. “You’ve got him winded, Jack. Sokoloff is wearing down. He’s getting lazy on the inside. Keep pressing.”
Shakes backed off and Jack stood up. His corner retreated as the bell rang, signaling round two.
Jack strode to the center of the ring. He matched Sokoloff punch for punch. Clearly, if he kept up the pressure, the fight was his. The crowd chanted, “Brady, Brady.” Voices pushed Jack harder. Fueled him.
For the next two rounds, Jack used his height and reach to wear Sokoloff down. Toward the end of the fourth round, he landed a right hand to Sokoloff’s head, knocking him down. Sokoloff, quick to get to his feet, was pushed into a corner by the referee who delivered a standing eight count.
At the number eight, Sokoloff agreed he could continue. And the bell rang to end the round.
Nobody, not even Jack, thought this would be an easy win. In five rounds, he absorbed tremendous body shots, but he didn’t tire. At the bell, Jack knew this was the round to end the fight. His heart thrummed in his chest.
Breathing hard, Jack proceeded to the center of the ring and delivered an overhand right. Sokoloff stumbled. Off-balance, Jack ripped a quick one-two, a head shot followed by a powerful body punch. The crowd reacted noisily.
Sokoloff went down. Hoots and jeers emitted from the spectators.
Sokoloff’s body was sprawled on the mat. Jack hovered over Sokoloff, who was laid out in supplication as if to say, You are the real champion.
The referee started counting to ten. With each passing number, Jack expected Sokoloff to rise and continue to fight. Instead Sokoloff, reduced to a mass on the canvas, remained completely knocked out.
“Eight.”
“Nine.”
“Ten.” The referee finished counting and the bell rang out, pronouncing Jack the winner.
Cheering rose from the audience. Shakes and Daniella climbed into the ring as Jack, breathing hard, raised his arm in the air in victory. Shakes patted him on the back.
Finding Daniella standing in his corner, he hugged her. He lifted her off her feet and pressed a kiss to her lips. “We did it, baby.”
Tears filled her eyes.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, the new heavyweight world champion, Jack Brady.”
People roared their approval in response to Jack’s announced win. He didn’t focus on the crowd because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Daniella. Even when he was surrounded by thousands of screaming fans, their corner of the ring felt small and intimate.
Truth and emotion hit him all at once. His breath caught in his chest. A sense of urgency welled within him, an important need to tell her everything resting on his heart. Nearly out of breath and exhausted, Jack fell to his knee, uttering the words that, in this moment, he knew he meant with all his heart. “Thank you. None of this would have happened without you.”
“Don’t thank me, Jack. We did this together.”
The champ gave a light shake of his head. “No. Since the day you brought me to the cabin, you changed me. Everything I did, every mile ran, every hour sparred, every ounce of love I have for the sport is because of you. You came back into my life, and honey, life got so much better.”
Tears welled in Daniella’s eyes.
“I love you, Daniella Chambers, and I want you to be my family. Forever. Marry me,” he said, as his bottom lip trembled. “Whenever you want, wherever you want. Just marry me.”
With tears rolling down her cheeks, Daniella rushed to him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
And in his corner, in front of twelve thousand people, the love of his life said yes.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I think the worst part of writing acknowledgments is the fear of leaving someone out. While writing a book is a solitary process, the effort it takes in getting the words on the page into the hands of the reader is anything but a one woman job.
To my editor, Laura Fazio— Thank you for taking my idea and my voice and turning it into a book, and not just any book, you made FFI a story filled with emotional depth. You pushed me when I needed it, and virtually hugged me when I needed that, too. For everything, thank you.
To my agent, Nicole Resciniti—Mucho, mucho gratitude. You are my #1 cheerleader. I could not have had this experience (or the Coronita Margarita) without you.
To the people who read FFI throughout its various states of development— Lane Heymont, Danielle Bailey, Brenda Massey . . . thanks a million.
To my Dad—thank you for sharing your stories and experiences throughout your boxing career with me. FFI wouldn’t be what it is, with so much behind the scenes knowledge and depth if it weren’t for your bravery to pursue your own passions.
To Jeremy, Tina, Gerda, and the Pier 1 crew— thank you for keeping me, me.
To my husband, Joe and my son, Jacob— thank you for the support, hugs, kisses, cuddles, pizza, frozen yogurt, time alone, and time spent together. I love you.
Lastly, a ginormous thank you to you, the reader. Thank you for taking a ch
ance on a new author. Thank you for giving Fighting For It your valuable time. I hope you enjoyed reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you like, drop me a line at [email protected] or connect with me on Facebook: facebook.com/authorjenniferfusco or Twitter: @jenniferafusco.
Until next time . . .
Read on for a special preview of the next sexy, exhilarating Ringside book
GOING THE DISTANCE
Coming soon from
Four-thirty in the morning came early. Damn early. Michael Perez didn’t mind. His routine, his life, started in the wee hours with moonlight falling across his feet. Today, like every day, he ran the ten and a half miles from his home to Stamina Gym.
Arriving early meant getting a head start on his training before his seven-thirty boxing class began. He didn’t readily sign on to teach a bunch of wannabes how to hit a heavy bag, something he’d learned at the age of four. But, over the years, he’d also learned you had to do what you had to do. Helping to pull Stamina out of its financial funk meant he had to do his part. And if teaching boxing to weekend warriors meant Stamina kept its lights on . . .
So be it.
He exhaled and swung his arms as he rounded the street corner toward his gym. The rhythmic sound of the soles of his shoes hitting gravel filled his ears. He loved this time of day. The darkness, the silence, followed by the creak of the gym’s door after he unlocked it and pushed his way into the vacant space.
He swore one day he’d change up his morning workout. Maybe he’d hit the speed bag or jump rope before lying down at the bench press to work on his biceps. It never happened. He took comfort in knowing what came next. Run. Cool Down. Bench press. Leg press. Rest. Speed bag. Heavy Bag. Hit the locker room. Shower. Shave.
He’d conditioned his mind and his body to work in that order. All routine. No surprises. Until today. Outside Stamina he found the lights already on. He wasn’t alone and he didn’t like it. His brow furrowed and tension settled in his jaw. No fucking way was he working out with someone else. He entered through the doors of Stamina. Standing there, scowling at him, was his beloved trainer. “My office,” her words landed hard in his ears, “Now.”
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