Eye on the Prize

by Dmytro Holmes

  “I am going to be the best father I can be,” he answered quietly. The sense of panic which had consumed her seconds before dissipated with his words. I did the right thing telling him, Caitlyn thought, relieved as Patrick extended his arms. She fell into his embrace happily. So, what if it isn’t true. We have lots of time to make a baby now. And with a baby, I’ll never be alone again.

  “I haven’t seen you around the gym in weeks, Mikai.” Joe stuck his foot in the door to stop the younger man from closing the door in his face.

  “Not to mention that you never return my calls or texts. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nothing!” Mikai replied defensively, peeking out of the frame. He had literally just snorted a line before the knock announcing his trainer’s arrival and in his buzzed state, he had not thought twice about answering. He instantly regretted his decision.

  “Are you high?” Joe snarled, pushing his athletic body into the apartment. He looked around, his face curling into a sneer. Mikai had not bothered to clean up the disaster originally created by Carlucci’s muscle. Now it was a dump of liquor bottles, pizza boxes and dirty clothes. A rancid smell filled the air and cockroaches were having a party on the overflowing dishes in the kitchen sink.

  “What the hell, Mikai?” Joe demanded again. “What is going on?”

  “This is a bad time, Joe,” Mikai insisted, rolling his shoulders, trying to alleviate the sudden onset of tension he was feeling. He wasn’t sure if it was the coke or the untimely arrival of his trainer which had him so jittery but either way he knew that he needed to get rid of Joe. He was expecting Miles to text him with another job.

  “Are you gonna talk to me? What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m sick,” Mikai blurted out. “I’m really contagious. You should go.” He started to edge the smaller man toward the door and at first Joe began to resist. Suddenly, the man’s eyes widened as he caught glimpse of the lines laid out on the coffee table. Anger and disappointment colored his face.

  “Really, Mikai? What is that? Meth?”

  “It’s only coke!” Instantly he wished he could retract the words as Joe’s jaw clenched and he glared at the boxer.

  “Only? It’s only coke?”

  “I’m taking a break, Joe. Get off my ass. I deserve to let loose once in a while. You have to stop acting like you’re better than me because I relax in a different way than you.”

  “Oh? Are you relaxed? Because you look pretty goddamn sketched out to me. You know what, kid? Do whatever the fuck you want. You want to work your ass off and throw it away for a few cheap thrills, go ahead. You always say I’m not your father and I’m not. But I thought I was your friend. You want to shut me out and get high by yourself in your apartment, fine. When you smarten up, give me a call.” With that, Joe whirled on his heel and stormed out. Mikai was instantly sorry and went to chase after him but his mentor had already found his way into the stairwell. Sighing, Mikai turned back to his place and closed the door. You need to lay off the stuff, he told himself for what seemed like the ten thousandth time in weeks. But every time he stopped doing the drugs, he was faced with the reality of what he had become; a weapon for the mob. The guilt of what he had resorted to in order to pay off his astronomical debt was eating him alive.

  “It won’t be forever,” Miles had told him comfortingly. “Carlucci is a reasonable man.”

  “You keep saying that but he keeps setting me up to collect his debts. When will I be ever be square with this guy? How much more could I possibly owe him?”

  “He’ll tell you when he thinks you’re even,” Miles replied evasively. “In the meantime, you’re needed in the Bronx.”

  The coke helped him reach a point of numbness where he did not feel his powerful fists wreaking agony upon men floundering in their own gambling addictions. He did not think of how he was neglecting his boxing career. He forced his mind away from the pain he still felt over losing Caitlyn. But most of all, he tried to reach a place of oblivion to deny the fact that he was failing himself in every area of life. You need to talk to Carlucci. You need to tell him you’ve had enough. He laughed at his own idealism. Yeah, you do that. Go tell the mob boss that you’re quitting. Good luck with that. He sat on the sofa, crushing a roach in the process, and leaned forward to pick up the rolled-up dollar bill. His cell phone chimed. It was Miles again. Mikai was needed in Long Island.

  It was the middle of the afternoon and Mikai was standing in front of a convenience store, sucking on a popsicle. He looked sorely out of place, a giant, handsome man standing among gangly teenagers in the autumn sunlight, trying not to look conspicuous.

  “Hey, man, uh…can you buy us a six pack?” one squeaky voiced kid finally had the courage to ask. Mikai did not respond but continued sucking on the sugar water, his blue eyes narrowing until the kid slunk away. After ten minutes, he saw a man exit a business from across the street. Mikai discarded the wrapper and began to tail the unsuspecting soul, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the feat he was about to perform. He could hear Joe’s voice in his head reprimanding him for it.

  “Don’t do that! It ruins your joints. You’re gonna have arthritis by the time you’re thirty!”

  Mikai tried to shove his trainer’s fatherly tones out of his head but suddenly he was inundated with memories as he continued after the man. “I’m proud of you, kid,” Joe was saying when he won his first amateur match.

  “Don’t cry, Lefty. I will always be your parent,” the trainer told him when Dianne passed away. “I knew you got him, Mickey! I could tell by the look in your eye at a minute and a half! You were amazing!” Joe told him when he won against Sam Gillies. “You’re the son I never had.”As Mikai followed the man down the street, Joe’s voice took a turn for a worse in his head.

  “Are you high?”

  “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

  You need to make things right with him when you get back to Manhattan. He doesn’t deserve your shitty treatment. He’s done everything for you. Who knows where you would be without him? The figure abruptly turned into an alleyway as Mikai knew he would. He was heading to a back-alley poker game but Mikai was about to intercept his fun. Mikai closed the distance between the two of them in a few short strides and had the man in a headlock before he even realized anyone was behind him.

  “What the -?” the man exclaimed. Mikai slammed the man’s head into the brick wall in front of him, cringing, horrified at the crunch which accompanied the motion. He repeated the action and dropped the man’s body to the ground.

  “You owe Mr. Carlucci seventeen thousand five hundred dollars by tomorrow or your wife is dead.” He followed his words with a solid kick to the gasping man’s ribs and turned his head quickly as blood spurted out of his mouth. Briskly he turned the corner onto the street and headed back toward the store where he had waited earlier. He entered the bathroom inside the 7-Eleven and vomited in the toilet. It had become a ritual. After every debt collecting exercise, he found a public restroom, threw up violently and instantly felt better. It was as though by releasing the acid in his stomach, he was cleansing himself of the horrible deed he had just done. It’s like confession, he reasoned with himself.

  He washed his hands and face, withdrew a baggie from his jeans and inhaled a bump of cocaine off his housekey. Looking up quickly, he wiped his nose, checking for residue in the mirror. Satisfied that his nose showed no sign of what he had just done, he turned away, not wanting to look at his dilated pupils and pale complexion. He was no longer a fan of the man in the mirror. Mikai threw open the door and collided solidly with a body.

  The washroom is decidedly unromantic. We need to stop meeting this way,” Caitlyn remarked. Mikai regained his balance and his heart froze and warmed simultaneously. Time ceased to function as the estranged lovers stared at one another. Mikai licked his lips nervously, his eyes raking over Caitlyn like a lion on a gazelle. She looked exactly the same as she had a year earlier, her curls slightly longer, worn
loose and sexy around her shoulders. Her normally rosy complexion was paler than he remembered but she was just as breathtakingly lovely as the last time he had seen her in the offices at Entrance. He noted an evasive sadness in her luminous eyes which had not been there previously.

  “How are you, Mikai?” she almost whispered. Without thinking, he leaned forward and scooped her into his arms, his lips meeting hers, and he kissed her with every ounce of raw emotion he had stored in his bones since she had departed from his life. He fully expected her to fight, to struggle against his almost feverish embrace but it was as if they had never been apart. Her mouth parted to allow for his tongue to enter and her nails were digging into his neck. Mikai’s hand found the handle to the bathroom and the two were quickly inside, their pants making their way to the dirty floor. Mikai wanted to crawl inside Caitlyn’s skin. He could not get close enough to her and when they entwined, Mikai felt whole for the first time since he could recall. When they emerged from the tiny bathroom moments later, neither was embarrassed, despite the scathing look the old clerk gave them as they sauntered into the parking lot. Silently, Caitlyn led him to her white Lexus and drove down the street, her hand on his thigh as if she could not keep her hands off of him for one moment. She did not say anything until she arrived at a secluded parking lot at Long Beach. There, she turned off the engine and turned to look at him, her eyes shiny with tears of mixed sentiment.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi,” he replied, returning her loving gaze. The silence was comfortable and tense, both wanting to say so much but neither wanting the euphoric feeling to end. They were both saved by the need to speak when they found themselves in each other’s arms once more. For the first time in a year, Mikai felt right. He knew that he would not let Caitlyn go again. He just had no idea how to keep her.

  III

  Part Three

  12

  Chapter Twelve

  Miles circled him like a cat on the prowl and Mikai found himself tensing.

  “What?” Mikai asked, annoyed. The mere presence of the man was enough to put him on edge. Suddenly, Miles was no longer cool and suave but somehow seedy and annoying. Mikai wished the agent would go and leave him in peace.

  “What what?” Miles replied silkily. He reached into his pocket and tossed a baggie of cocaine onto the table. Mikai frowned.

  “What’s that for?”

  “It’s a present for you,” Miles said, smiling. Mikai glanced at the drugs impassively and then looked up at his agent. For the first time, he saw something in the man which he found utterly disgusting.

  “I thought you were my agent,” Mikai muttered.

  “I am!” Miles looked surprised at his statement. “Can’t an agent give his best client a present?”

  “A present would be setting me up with a title match, promoting me and helping me train, not enabling my downfall,” Mikai retorted. Miles lost his superficial grin and a look of evil flashed over his face. He peered at Mikai, sensing that his client’s feelings toward him had changed.

  “First of all, I think a pretty goddamn good present is getting your life saved when you were stupid enough to get involved with a loan shark. Secondly, I am not offering you something that you aren’t already doing to yourself. So, get off your high horse, Lefty.”

  “Yeah, great agent. Got me an awesome gig running for the mob. Is that why you’re handing me coke? Am I going to become a mule as a promotion?”

  “You know what, Mikai? You’re right. I probably shouldn’t be giving you coke. You’re jacked up enough as it is. You’re beginning to sound paranoid. You should probably give it a rest for a while.”

  “I’d like to give you a rest for a while but I guess that’s not really an option, is it?” Mikai snapped back. “Take that shit and get out.”

  Miles looked wounded by his client’s tone but reached down to retrieve the baggie.

  “No good deed,” he muttered as he headed toward the door.

  “Yeah, you’re a fucking saint, Miles. Thanks for everything.”

  Miles paused at the doorway.

  “I’ll text you the name and address of your next job. Do me a favor and don’t call me. I’ll call you.”

  “Ugh, I’d rather you didn’t. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.” Mikai was already shoving the man into the hallway as the words left his lips. He locked the deadbolt and leaned against the wall, breathing shakily. He knew he probably shouldn’t have spoken to Miles that way but more and more Miles was becoming a thorn in his side. Somewhere, Mikai had realized that the agent was not on his side and probably never had been. Miles had managed to create a rift between him and Joe to the point where Joe had completely given up on contacting the boxer. You did a good job of alienating Joe all by yourself, Mikai reminded himself. He thought of what incredible support Joe had provided him over the years and he felt shame wash over him as he remembered his last words to the man.

  Since Caitlyn had miraculously returned the previous week, Mikai had abruptly stopped using coke and drinking. He wanted to relish every second he had with her, inhaling her scent, tasting her skin, looking into her face. He did not want to waste a single memory cell on booze or drugs for he knew that his time with her was going to be short-lived again. He dared not ask about Patrick but he sensed that the two were having problems. Mikai was cynical enough to expect Caitlyn to return to her husband but he did not allow himself to let his thoughts venture there. When she leaves you again, you’ll have all the time in the world to drown your sorrows, he thought wryly. Until that horrible moment, you must remain clear headed and stay focussed on her. Now that he was sober, he was also a ball of pent up energy. He needed to train again. The problem was, he didn’t know how to approach Joe.

  “He loves you, Mickey. Just go to SkyTrain and tell him you’re sorry,” Caitlyn had told him but Mikai had shaken his head.

  “I was pretty nasty to him,” he told her. “He won’t forgive me.”

  He didn’t mention the downward spiral he had sunk into after she had married Patrick. He didn’t want her to feel bad for him, to think that he would be broken without her. Even if that’s the truth. Mikai was also afraid that Joe would discover what he had been doing for Alex Carlucci. Mikai was certain there would be absolutely no forgiveness for the horrors he had caused other people.

  Mikai pushed himself off the wall and did some stretches. He had begun to do some light training at home but as he bounced around throwing air jabs, he knew that he needed to get out of the house. He was going to see Joe.

  “That’s it, Lefty! Left, left, right, left!”

  The half dozen men and two women in the gym cheered him on as he attacked the punching bag. Mikai blocked out the noise and watched his target, throwing hooks in a flurry of movement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joe emerge from the office, arms folded over his lean chest, thoughtfully taking in the scene. Mikai could not make out his mentor’s expression but he trained his mind on the task and focussed on making Joe proud again. He had simply walked into the gym as if he had never left, thrown down his bag and begun hitting. Almost immediately, the members recognized him and formed a circle around, chanting his name and calling out moves. Mikai was brought back to childhood when he had been enveloped in a band of jeering, led by Derrek Jameson. Oh, how things change. Mikai finished his battery on the vinyl and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “Mikai! Can you spar with me?” one man cried, rushing in to clap him on the back.

  “Me too, please?” There was a chorus of pleas but Joe stepped forward, ending the adulation.

  “Later. Right now, Left Eye and me are gonna have a little chat, okay?” A round of weak protests ensued but the group obligingly dispersed and Mikai followed Joe back into the office.

  “Joe – “

  “Shut up.” His voice was like lightening and Mikai immediately closed his mouth.

  “You have a lot of nerve showing your face back in here.”

&nbs
p; “I know. I – “

  “I said shut up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I have sacrificed a lot for you, Mikai. Do you know why?” Mikai did not answer, unsure if he was allowed to speak. The question was apparently rhetorical.

  “Because I believed in you. You were this gangly little shit with bucked teeth and glasses, starving and mad at the world but I saw something in you. I knew you could be a champion. So, I helped you see your potential. I tried to teach you and make you a man.”

  “You did, Joe! You’ve been like a father to me!”

  “Yeah? Like your shithead father? The one who ran off with a bimbo and then tried to steal your kidney?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why do you treat me like that? Why would you shut me out when you’re going through shit? We all go through shit, Mickey. That’s when you need your support system the most. You don’t shut out the people who love you and treat them like garbage.”

  “I know, Joe. I am – was going through a rough time after Caitlyn left and I didn’t know which way to go.”

  “But now you do?”

  Mikai was uncomfortable for a moment. A part of him wanted to blurt the entire sordid story about Miles and Alex Carlucci into Joe’s ear but a well-honed instinct held him back.

  “Yeah. Caitlyn is back in my life. I’m off the drugs now, Joe. I swear. Not even drinking. Only training.”

  Joe peered at him suspiciously.

  “What do you mean ‘Caitlyn is back?’ She divorced her husband?”

  Mikai looked down at his hands.

  “Mickey, you can’t run around with a married woman. That’s how this all started in the first place.”

  “It’s different now, Joe. She really doesn’t love this guy. She’s – “