On the Ropes

by Christa Cervone

  “That’s not the only reason,” I wink at him.

  With a chuckle, Frankie leads the way through the gym. He walks slowly, examining everything around him, with his arms crossed at his chest, and nodding his head in approval.

  “Hi, can I help you?” We turn to see an overly tanned guy coming over.

  “We’re looking for Blaine,” Frankie replies.

  “And you are?”

  “Tell him Frankie and Gabriel are here. He’s expecting us.”

  “Oh my God,” he seems stunned, “you’re ‘The Saint’!”

  I flash him a grin, “In the flesh.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first. Please forgive me.”

  “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

  “My name is Charlie and I’m the gym manager. Please wait here, and I’ll go get Blaine.”

  We watch him rush to the back of the building, then disappear through a door.

  I start howling with laughter.

  “What are you laughin’ at?” Frankie asks me.

  “Did you see how nervous he got when he realized who we are.”

  “Not who we are, kid. Who you are.”

  “Oh please,” I roll my eyes at him.

  “When are you gonna realize…”

  “Saint… Frankie… I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Blaine calls out from across the room.

  “We couldn’t wait to come see the place,” Frankie flicks his hand, indicating the gym.

  “You’ve got a really nice set-up here,” I add.

  “I’m so glad you like it, Saint. That really means a lot to hear that from you. Come, let me give you the official grand tour.”

  Both Frankie and I follow as Blaine takes the lead. He’s obviously proud of his gym, and with good reason. It’s extremely impressive; at least to me anyway.

  “So, obviously this is our main training room. We have all the heavy and speed bags back there,” he points to the back of the gym. “Our ring here,” he says next, pointing directly in front of him, “and behind you, all the cardio equipment.”

  “No more stair runs,” I grin.

  “Stair runs?” Blaine inquires.

  “At the Y, I actually run flights of stairs. It’s part of my training.”

  “Oh man, that must be a killer.”

  “Don’t get too used to that machine, kid. You’ll still be running the stairs. These machines can’t replace the real thing,” Frankie has a look of satisfaction on his face.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

  “We’re still waiting for our weights to come in. I was promised they’d be here later this afternoon. We’re getting top of the line Nautilus equipment. It should be set up and ready to use by opening day.”

  “Nice,” I smile at Blaine.

  “Come on, let me show you guys the locker room. You’re going to love it,” he waves us towards the back of the building.

  Blaine stops as we approach the entryway. “We actually have both a men’s and women’s locker room. We’re hoping to have women’s kickboxing classes a few times a week as well as having women in our boxing program. We were told by the state that women need a separate locker room. Both the locker rooms are identical in amenities but we made the men’s bigger,” he explains.

  Blaine pushes the door open, and we walk through. The locker room smells of fresh paint and is stark white in color, just like the rest of the gym. Everything is brand spanking new. There are six shower stalls; each is equipped with a small changing area, along with soap, shampoo, and conditioner dispensers. Lockers line the walls, with benches running through the middle of the room, dividing it in half.

  “Let me show you our sauna,” Blaine offers.

  Hidden in the back is a six-person sauna.

  As Blaine opens that door, the heat hits all of our faces. “Holy shit, that’s hot,” Frankie blurts out.

  We can barely keep our eyes open because they’re burning from the intense heat.

  “This will be a great place to sit and unwind after sparring, won’t it, Saint?” Blaine wonders aloud.

  “I have no clue. I’ve never been in one.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope, never,” I confirm with irritation. Does it look like I belong to one of his fancy country clubs that has a sauna?

  “Well I can assure you, you’ll love it.”

  I glance over at Frankie and roll my eyes.

  He grimaces back at me with his brow furrowing and his lip curled. I know that look… it’s his “shut the fuck up” look.

  Blaine closes the door to the sauna. “There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

  We follow him back out to the gym and walk along the back wall. I look around again, trying to take it all in. All this amazing equipment in one place. No more training at Frankie’s, then heading over to the Y, where I have to use their mediocre equipment. All of my training can be done right here.

  Blaine pauses at yet another door, “Remember how I told you we are going to have athletic trainers on site? Well, here’s their area,” he swings the door open and we peer inside.

  There are three sectioned off areas; each has a table and a small cabinet stocked with medical supplies.

  “Are you expecting a lot of injuries?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

  Frankie elbows me in the ribs to shut me up.

  Blaine turns around and smiles at us. “No, we just want to make sure everyone has a space if they need it,” and with that, we head back out into the main gym. “Well, this concludes our grand tour.”

  “We really appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to show us around. I know I speak for the both of us, when I tell you we can’t wait to start Gabriel’s training here.”

  “No, thank you for coming, I’m eager to get Saint training here, as well. If the Nautilus equipment arrives today, we’d love to have him start tomorrow. We’re supposed to start giving tours on Wednesday, and we’ll be having an open house this weekend. I’m also hoping to have some boxers sparring too. Not sure if you’d be up to that, Saint?”

  I defer to Frankie, “What do you say, Frankie? How ‘bout Jimmy and I get in the ring and give Blaine here a show?”

  Frankie agrees with the plan.

  “Really, both you and Jimmy? That’ll be amazing,” Blaine exclaims.

  “I’ll make it happen,” I say confidently. “What time do you want us here?”

  “The open house starts at ten a.m. It’ll be great if you guys can show up around ten thirty.”

  “Sounds good, bro. We’ll see you then.”

  “Thank you again for showing us around,” Frankie says politely.

  “The pleasure was all mine. I’ll give you a call if we get everything set up before Saturday.”

  We say goodbye and head out. As Frankie and I stroll through the parking lot, I can see the pleased look on his face. I can’t help but be pleased too; seeing him so happy makes me happy.

  “That gym is the perfect gym,” Frankie marvels. “If I could design my own dream gym, it would be that, right there.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking amazing, if I do say so myself.”

  I stand there, beaming at Frankie, while I wait for him to unlock his car doors. The sound of screeching tires and a horn honking startles us. I look over the roof of Frankie’s car to see a red convertible Mini Cooper careening into the parking lot. Behind the wheel of the car is Salem. She has some girly, bullshit music blaring on the radio and oversized, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

  Frankie shakes his head. “Someone needs to teach that broad how to drive.”

  “I’d like to teach her a thing or two,” I mutter, all the while staring at her as she closes the top to her convertible with the push of a button.

  “Must be nice to be loaded,” Frankie sighs, as he looks down at his beat-up old Buick.

  “Someday, Frankie… someday.”

  “I hope so, kid.”

  “I’ll be ri
ght back,” I inform him as I start walking towards Salem’s car.

  Her car door opens abruptly, exposing her toned and tanned legs, “Did you see that jerk? He nearly killed me!” she shouts at me as she gets out of the car.

  “No, I didn’t. I just heard the screeching tires and a horn honking. Are you okay? Do you want me to call the cops?”

  “What are the cops going to do?” she snaps.

  “I dunno, you said he almost killed you,” I fake sincerity.

  “You think this is funny, don’t you? I just got this car and that jerk nearly rear ended me.”

  “No, I’d never think you almost dying is funny,” I laugh a little at how pissed she is over nothing big. But I’d sure love to rear end you.

  “Well, I’m glad you think this is a laughing matter,” she huffs.

  “Look, doll, I was just coming over here to make sure you’re okay.”

  “First of all, don’t call me ‘doll.’ It may work on your little wrestling groupies, but it’s not going to work on me. And second of all, no one asked you to come over here to check on me.”

  “Suit yourself,” is my response as I begin to walk away. “Oh, and it’s boxing,” I throw over my shoulder.

  “What?” she sneers at me.

  Turning around, I walk back over to her, “Like I told you last night, I box not wrestle,” I quietly advise as I gently run my knuckles over her cheek. She gasps and flinches when I touch her. “It was great to see you again, doll.”

  “Come on Frankie, let’s get out of here,” I holler to him as I walk away from Salem again, leaving her speechless.

  “Everything alright over there, Gabriel?” Frankie asks as I get into his car.

  “Everything is just fine, Frankie, nothin’ you have to worry about,” I look out my window at Salem, who is obviously still stunned by my actions.

  As we pull out of the parking lot, I watch her stomping her way into the gym. Her ass is looking mighty fine in the skin-tight, black yoga pants she’s wearing. I can see her every move from the gym windows. Her hands are flailing about as she tells Blaine what just happened. She begins pointing in the direction of the parking lot, and I watch as Blaine shakes his head and just walks away from her.

  “Ugh,” I moan.

  “What’s the matter, kid?”

  “Oh nothin’, just watching that sweet little honey from the parking lot lose her shit at her boyfriend.”

  Frankie peers over me, looking in the direction of TKO. “Forget about her,” he warns, “you don’t need her clouding your head.”

  “Easier said than done,” I mutter to myself.

  “I’m always having fun in training and in boxing. I think it’s because boxing is my passion.”

  —Manny Pacquiao

  Jimmy and I are all set for our exhibition fight today at TKO. We’ve been spreading the word like crazy and so has Blaine. I’ve actually heard several radio spots advertising the grand opening and our fight.

  Earlier in the week, we were listening to the radio at Frankie’s, and when the commercial came on, the kids went crazy.

  Tyler came running up to me. “Is it true, Saint? Are you gonna be on TV?”

  “I guess,” I shrugged.

  “Wow! You’re gonna be a star on Monday when you come in here,” Tyler beamed.

  “A star?” I gave him a funny look. “I’m not gonna be a star, I’m gonna be the same old me. Just like I am today.”

  I just smiled and laughed at Tyler’s words. If he only knew that Channel Five was a small-time television station that no one important watched.

  “You ready for this?” Jimmy’s bouncing around, holding his hands up near his face, and pretending to jab me.

  I bat his hand away from me, “Oh, I’m ready. I’m ready to knock you out.”

  “Will you two cut the shit and get ready to go? We’re gonna be late!” Frankie yells from his office.

  Jimmy rolls his eyes at me. “Come on, let’s get our stuff before Frankie has a heart attack.”

  Within twenty minutes we’re pulling into TKO’s parking lot and the place is packed. “Holy shit,” Jimmy curses, “there’s not even a parking space left.”

  Frankie’s grumbling to himself as he pulls back out onto the street. The Channel Five News truck is parked right out in front of the gym and Blaine’s outside talking to one of the cameramen. He flags us down, “Hey, Saint! Where are you guys going?”

  “Just trying to find a parking spot. We’ll be right back!” I holler to him.

  “Great. Everyone’s been talking about the fight all week long.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll give ‘em what they want to see,” Jimmy’s hanging his head out the back window.

  Blaine gives him a thumbs up.

  “There’s some more parking up the street on the left,” Blaine points out.

  “Great, thanks!”

  “Hot damn! Did you see all those cars?” Jimmy’s nearly jumping out of his seat.

  “Yeah, I did. It’s hard to believe he managed to get that many people to come to his open house.”

  “It pays to have money,” Frankie hisses.

  “Did you ever have an opening like this, Frankie?” Jimmy asks.

  “Are you kidding? It’s a miracle my doors remained opened the first year.”

  “Really?”

  “Kid, look where we are. None of these rich bastards are gonna come to my gym.”

  “Well, if they knew what was good for them, they would,” he huffs.

  “These people don’t care who is training them. All they care about is where they are training; that it’s new and fancy. It’s all about appearances to them.”

  “Wait until they see us in action. They’ll all wanna piece of you, Frankie,” Jimmy declares confidently.

  “I doubt it, kid,” Frankie responds as he pulls into a parking space. “Let’s go give these rich assholes a show.”

  Both Jimmy and I start to laugh. “You got it.”

  We grab our bags from the trunk, and Frankie walks ahead of us, so we jog to catch up to him. I want these people to know that we are with Frankie. He’s our trainer, and he needs to be recognized for it. You can be a natural fighter, but it takes a great trainer to make you a great fighter.

  “Hey! Here they come now,” Blaine announces.

  He’s standing on the sidewalk directly in front of the gym. Next to him, is a bleached blonde woman who stands about five feet seven. She’s wearing way too much makeup and is overly dressed for this event. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Frankie give her a quick once-over.

  Jimmy elbows me in the ribs, “Did you just see Frankie checkin’ out that woman standing next Blaine?”

  I simply incline my head.

  “Maybe we should try to set him up.”

  I shake my head at that.

  “Why not? Maybe if we get him laid, he’ll ease up on us. God only knows the last time he’s gotten a piece of ass. It was probably back in the eighties, when he was sporting that mullet and the Gold’s Gym tank top.”

  I crack a smile at his comment. I know he’s referring to a picture that Frankie has hanging in his office from the late eighties. It’s of him, Don King, and a very young Mike Tyson. Frankie was wearing a pair of acid-washed jeans, a Gold’s Gym tank top, high top sneakers, and his mullet that was straight out of a music video. Both Tyson and Frankie were flexing their muscles, while Don King was standing in-between them giving his cheesy smile.

  “I’m not sure any woman would put up with Frankie,” I turn back to look at Jimmy.

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  “Saint, Jimmy, Frankie, let me introduce you to Laura Simpson,” Blaine offers.

  “Holy shit, you’re Laura Simpson,” Jimmy blurts out, like she doesn’t know her own name.

  Laura smiles at him like he’s a confused little kid. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Blaine has been talking about you guys all morning.”

  “Really?” he inquires anxiously.

 
“Jimmy, cut the shit,” Frankie growls under his breath.

  “I’d love to do a brief interview with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “You mean, we’re gonna be on the news?” His face lights up and he can’t contain his excitement.

  “Yes,” Laura chuckles.

  “Uh… yeah!” he’s dumbfounded. “Steph, my girlfriend, is gonna flip out! She watches you on the Eleven O’clock News every night.”

  Laura seems a little taken aback by Jimmy’s behavior, which confounds us, as well. “Well thank you. It’s always nice to hear from the fans,” she smiles kindly at him.

  “Laura also mentioned that she’d like to get some footage of your fight,” Blaine chimes in.

  “Absolutely!” Jimmy jumps on it.

  “Saint, how about you? Is that okay?” Laura asks.

  “Yeah, I’m down for whatever.”

  “Great! Let me just give my cameraman, Chuck, a heads up. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Laura walks away, Frankie smacks the back of Jimmy’s head.

  “Ow, what was that for?” the big baby whines.

  “That’s for acting like a fourteen year old!” Frankie bellows at him. “Get it together and quit being an asshole. That broad is going to put you on television, and you need to act like an adult.”

  Jimmy’s now pouting and rubbing the back of his head. Frankie can be pretty hard on him, but there are times when he really does act like a child.

  “Here she comes,” Frankie stands up straight, smoothing his clothes out, like he’s trying to impress her. “And pull yourself together!” he warns Jimmy again.

  “Okay, we’re almost ready,” Laura says, approaching us. “I was thinking we could do the interview with you guys suited up and standing outside the ring.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I consent.

  “Great! Why don’t you go change into your stuff, and we’ll meet you inside the gym in five minutes.”

  “Come on Jimmy, I’ll show you where the locker room is,” I motion for him to follow me.

  We maneuver ourselves through the crowd. I can hear people whispering my name as we pass by, although I can’t make out what they’re saying. It doesn’t really matter to me what they’re saying or why. I’m here for one reason and one reason only… Frankie.