by Ellie Jean
“I’m here to help. Friends help each other, Chuck. And you are a good friend to me.” Dexter Truitt hits me with his words and walks down the corridor, almost snarling at the other men stationed down the other end. They stand with their arms crossed, suits bulging at the seams, looking dangerous and ready to pounce. An older man steps from the exit, surrounded by more goons and locks his dark eyes on mine. Standing my ground, the burn radiating up my legs and arms puts me on high alert. Yards separate us but there’s an underlying caution he is delivering to me. Clenching my teeth, my muscles tighten and quiver, ready to pounce on this sharp-dressed thug. My pulse speeds and my legs start to bounce.
Sal leans out the door and reprimands me. “Chuck. Inside.”
The man dressed in black except for a red cloth in his pocket, Wilders’ color, salutes me and leaves.
“Who the fuck’s that?”
Sal penetrates the corridor with his own lethal look before heading in.
“Paolo, head of the Ferraro family. An enemy, especially now they know who you are.”
“If they try anything tonight, they’d be mad with all of the cameras, the world watching, and security.”
Sal and Nizo look again at each other and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
“You’re right. They won’t.” Nizo leaves me with Sal and he goes on his phone.
Swinging a few more quick air punches, my blood’s rushing around and I’m ready to start pounding. Andre and Cristo have my gloves and bandages ready to go, shorts and shoes out of the bag.
“Let’s get this done before someone else comes in.”
Caroline
First fight, and the energy is electric and contagious.
I hope I brought a smile to Chuck’s face when he arrived tonight. My stomach flutters thinking about his handsome face.
Being ushered through the crowds, my stomach spirals and I try hard to maintain composure. I’m practically running in my heels trying to keep up with the guy who handed me my ticket. Having no idea where or who had my ticket when I arrived, I only knew if I could get myself to the arena then I’d figure it out there.
Busy all afternoon, googling boxing matches for half of it, I memorized important information since I had no idea what to expect. There were twelve rounds, people wore glitz and glam or jeans and shirts. There would be hoards of people and security and Chuck could win by knockout or points, after a count of ten seconds if Roy is lying on the floor or if the opponent’s team throws a towel in the ring. This helped me come up with a plan.
It was simple. If Chuck hadn’t lost by round nine, I would go to the restroom. This would give me approximately ten minutes to get out of the stadium and flee. Pre-programming my phone app to the fight radio station, I’d listen from afar hoping like hell he’s victorious. If Chuck KO’d him, then I was shit out of luck and I prayed Dex placed his security near me like planned. If the unplanned happened, like Chuck losing, then I would stand proudly in the crowd and watch him until he left the ring. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Much of the time, I’d pondered extensively over my bag and how the hell to get it outside without it being seen. Trying to hide an overnight bag over my shoulder with a large overcoat was tricky, but I’d somehow managed to get it in the back of my car. Deciding to put it in there an hour before I was due to leave in case the Ferraros were watching me and if they were, they’d likely question why I needed an overcoat on such a beautiful night. Again, it’s the best I could do with limited skills of planning an escape.
As far as the eye can see, there are people everywhere, and in the middle of Madison Square Gardens is the ring, lit up under thousands of lights. I stop momentarily to take in the view. My guide, or whoever he is, stops and waits. My head swivels left to right, then back gazing at how loved this sport is and freaking out about how the heck am I going to get out of here when I need to? An electric current runs up my spine. No doubt I will be far down near the ring with hundreds of rows for me to scale back up when time’s up. But I can’t think about that just yet. This scene invigorates me and I appreciate why people love boxing. It’s grand, it’s a place to be seen and there’s obviously a lot of money changing hands.
“Are they always like this?” I motion my hand around the seats.
“The title fights are. This one’s more elaborate because it’s a world title fight and because it’s being viewed by millions of people around the world. Everyone who’s anyone will be here tonight because they want to be seen.”
Nodding my head, I try and understand. “Right.”
“Chuck’s got his work cut out for him tonight. The odds still favor Wilders.”
And they probably will considering I’ve told the head of one of the major crime bosses in New York that I’ve personally asked Chuck to throw the match and he agreed. The enormity of my lie sinking in. Paolo Ferraro could be about to lose hundreds of thousands of dollars.
My legs start to buckle and my head swims.
“Caroline, here sit.” The man, whose name I still don’t know, ushers me to the nearest empty seat.
“Thanks. This is all very overwhelming.” Fanning myself, I play it down. “First time at a fight.”
I try and giggle and not think about what the heck I’ve done. This is big business, this is their lives and status in the hierarchy of the business, legal and black market. I don’t think my escape is going to hold up and if it does, I will need to disappear for a very long time. Heaving in deep breaths through restricting lungs, I try to look around at the personnel accompanying the seats near the ring and exits. There’s security everywhere, but that’s not what I’m searching for, it’s the undercover mafia men, crime lords and in particular the Ferraro men I need to locate. I can’t see anyone who resembles them yet, I need to get closer to the action.
With a dry mouth, I stand and straighten my shoulders. “Right, lead the way…”
“Jax. The name’s Jax.”
“Excellent. Thanks Jax. Again for your help tonight.”
He starts to walk and I follow, my eyes darting around but I try to keep my head still, hiding my anxiety. Although the trembling arms and legs could be a dead giveaway.
“Your seat.” He motions to the end of the row, next to a tall, classically beautiful woman and a man with graying dark hair. “I’m sure you will enjoy it. The first fights always the best.”
“Thank you again.” Jax looks to the couple and acknowledges them with a head nod then leaves.
My eyes pop out of my head looking at how close I’m standing to the action. The crowd is loud, and the seats are filling fast. My legs wobble on my heels, second guessing myself wearing them now. Wanting to wear joggers to make a swift getaway, there’s no way it could happen wearing this spectacular dress. Lucky I’m used to wearing heels almost every day.
“You must be Caroline?” The lady next to me catches my attention using my name. Dressed in a black long dress with small gold embellishments fitted close to her body, she is stunning. Her dark hair floats down around her shoulders, but it’s her eyes capturing my attention. They’re honey-colored, like Chuck’s.
Schnookerdookies…
I’d been mentally preparing myself to meet his mother and the man whose father kidnapped me, amongst everything else over the past few days and in the car ride over. Now I think I should have been more aware of where I actually parked the car so I could make a quick getaway. This lady looked poised and refined, calm and friendly. I doubt she posed a threat to me at all.
“I am.”
“You look stunning in that dress, and your earrings match perfectly.” Pleased with how the outfit came together and impressed by Chuck’s knowledge of women’s clothes sizes, the best part to it is underneath for only Chuck to see.
“Gosh, you’re so nice. These earrings were given to me by my father.” My stomach plummets and I take in a huge breath of oxygen to right myself. “This dress was a gift from Chuck. Who must be your son? Your eyes are identical.”
I scan my eyes over him and even in his charcoal suit, the resemblance to Chuck is there. Looking at his face, the structure of his mouth and nose are similar to my man’s. But his gray eyes draw me in. Searching for harshness and evil, I see nothing resembling it, only kind, tired eyes. My heart starts beating again and I breathe.
“Hi.” He smiles wider at me, putting me at ease.
“Chuck told us to expect you tonight, is this your first fight?”
“Yes.”
“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” Fiorella takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “The first real fight I saw Chuck fight, I left queasy and vowed never to return. But Chuck got in my ear and now I wouldn’t miss a fight. I will always be there to support my son.”
I smile at her candidness.
“He has a commanding way about him, doesn’t he?”
“Gets it from his father.”
Tomme raises his eyebrows and smirks. Fuck, it’s so similar to Chuck’s as well.
I sit down and try to relax. “Have you seen Chuck today? How is he?”
“He’s Chuck. Determined, loud, demanding as ever, but calm. He looked good and ready.”
I let out another breath and try to continue breathing normally. Looking across the seats again, scanning for any known enemies or problems I may have getting out, I spot Dexter around the corner a bit from us and wave. He waves back with a steely look. His men will be around undercover watching out for me.
“Chuck told me what my family did to you, and I apologize for their atrocities.”
My head swings back to Tomme.
“Please know, we protect Chuck, he needs to be safe and you as well. Our family will not let anything happen.”
Tomme sounds so certain. Like he knows nothing can penetrate the Basilio family. I guess when you have money, power, and the prestige of being the head of New York City crime, you’re probably pretty sure of yourself.
“Good to know. And thank you.” My eyes peer into his, showing him how grateful I am.
The lights dim and the crowd erupts.
“Here we go, Caroline. Hang on for the ride of your life,” Fiorella yells over the top of the crowd and I watch in awe.
Flashing lights, people clapping and cheering both names, waving signs and memorabilia, all on their feet expectantly waiting for the fighters.
Darkness falls upon us, and the crowd quiets until over the speakers, Trapts “Headstrong” blasts and a strong beam of light points at the exit where I see the two guys who were with Chuck the first night I met him, enter. They move slowly down the aisle and Chuck appears surrounded by his team and security. They wear black with gold trim too. My arms wave frantically and I yell, but I know he can’t hear me. Eyes dead ahead, his face mean and strong, he pumps his gloves together and bounces his steps to the ring. Casting my eyes up to the huge screen, I catch a closeup of his deadly face. There’s no mistaking Chuck is ready to become World Champion. The announcer bellows his name and the fans scream and boo. The small hairs on the back of my neck spike. It’s crazy in here.
Next his opponent steps out of his entry and again the music blares. My heart pounds under my rib cage, my hands are sweaty and the fight hasn’t even started.
I can’t take my focus off Chuck as he keeps himself mentally intact as Roy Wilders enters. If I didn’t know Chuck had a softer side to him, I’d be freaking out the way his eyes pierce the crowd and his team. I look to his eyes and there’s a glare thrown my way. He knows exactly where we are sitting and he found me. I blow him a kiss and I am surprised by his beautiful smirk fired at me. My pussy blazes with heat and floods. Christ, this man is gorgeous.
Fiorella touches my arm to get my attention and points to the big screen. An instant replay of me looking back at Chuck lights it up. Crap… my look gives everything away. It’s the look of pure want, need, and love. And now the Ferraro family know I’m here and dressed in a glitzy gold dress and will be easy to see from a mile away. Damn.
The lights brighten and the announcer speaks into the microphone and rattles off stats as Chuck and Roy dance around the ring, death staring each other and talking obscenities. My mind’s too frazzled to understand what the man is saying. I’m still standing even though I should be passed out the way my heart is erratically racing. The two men come together and jolt fists and Chuck returns to his corner, sitting.
Joining my hands, I send up a silent prayer. For Chuck to come out of this in one piece, although I have faith he will make his mark in the boxing world tonight, but more importantly for me. Divine intervention is needed if I’m going to come out of this alive.
Chuck
My knuckles wrapped tight in bandages, covered in padded gloves, and my inner smile couldn’t be any wider. World Heavyweight Boxing title fight, the day I dreamed about and worked my way toward since… well… forever.
Mouthguard in place, Nizo kneeling in front of me pumping me up, I’m deaf to everything and focused on the slight movements across from me made by Wilders. Being in this chair hundreds of times and the speech Nizo gives me is the same. I know it word for word and tonight’s will be no different. Clear, calm, and fixated on the tiniest of details could win me the fight.
The bell dings and I bound up. Fire burns in my gut and I move quickly around the ring, jabbing a few times before getting my eye in. Wilders does the same and we both hover around, dancing and ducking, trying to understand each other’s rhythm. He throws a series of cross punches and I try to move back, counter punching with some of my own. He gets a clean punch to my chin and my head throws back. I recover instantly, but the fire explodes and roars. Steaming back toward him, I launch in, throwing blow after blow to his ribs, not giving him a chance to recover. His arms come around my body and he leans in, hugging me. Trying to give himself air already.
Good. First round and I already have him wishing he was anywhere else.
The ding blasts, I shove him from me.
“Boring, Wilders.” I keep walking to the corner and sit.
“You look hard to beat out there Chuck, but be careful. He has some questionable moves. He’s not above playing dirty.” Nizo takes out my guard, handing me water. Andre checks my cheek where the bastard landed a good blow, putting some more Vaseline on it.
Nodding, I breathe in deeply, trying to get as much air in the lungs as I can. “I know his moves.” My hands rest on my bouncing knees.
“Go hard but be smart.” He shoves the mouthpiece back in and the bell dings. Pounding my hands together, I stand and move toward Roy. My hands and feet move together in unison and I throw my entire weight at him. Left, right. Again and then again until he gives me an upper cut into my stomach. Doubling over, I bound back and steady myself, but he leaps at me and continues pummeling me. My arms throw around his waist and I try to embrace him until I gain some air. The ref pulls us apart and I focus on using skills I know inside out instead of using the rage billowing inside me.
Watching like a hawk, we both land more and my hands ricochet off his body, ready to propel back toward him. I strike him in the face and his head flies back with blood following it. Wilders rights himself and he comes back hard and fast. Sweats starting to drip off me and my mouth’s dry but I block and dodge his assault.
Wham…
From his left hand, he fires at my face and my head snaps back, my body free falls until I connect with the ground.
Fuck…
My vision swirls, and my breathing rapidly pumps out but I stay there for a few counts. My eyes finding a glow in the audience.
Caroline.
There’s a frightened expression on her face, her hands wrapped around herself. I’ve caused that anguish, but I’ll right it. The referee continues his count and I smirk at Blossom, getting to my feet just as the bell sounds on count eight.
“You alright, Sansone?”
Nodding
, I walk back to the corner, knowing I’ve walked straight into Wilders’ game. I’ve studied his fights, I know the moves and what comes when, and yet I let him pound me to the ground in round two.
“What are you doing out there?” Nizo does his routine.
“Not thinking. But it won’t happen again.”
“Get that ugly head of yours in the game. You’ve got this fight.”
“I’m here to win. I will win.” My voice barks at the team and I spit out the excess saliva.
Round three starts and I move like I normally do. I won’t be dictated to by anyone. Both our bodies take the blows hammered out. Nothing’s off limits, jaw, nose, ribs, solar plexus. I cop one in the kidney and he’s immediately pulled up giving me time to steady my breaths. Rounds four and five are close and no doubt our points are even.
“You’re doing good out there.”
Washing my mouth out, I lean over the bucket and spit. My arms and legs still feel strong, there’s a cut above my eye Andre is wiping and my calmness I walked into the ring with is back. I can do this. I am the world champion, I just have to show it, do what I’ve been doing and knock this asshole out. His run is about to come to an end.
I take a small sip of the water and stand, waiting for the bell. It’s then I hear the crowds of people chanting my name. They know it too. I’m their champion, I will flatten Roy Wilders and prove it beyond doubt to me and to the world.
Ding…Ding…Ding…
My eyes track Wilders. My shoulders move up and down as I loosen them, gliding across the floor, dancing to my own beat. Hot liquid surges through my arms and legs and I strike, like a snake on its prey. Poisonous and deadly, I land blows around his stomach, mixing it up with jabs to the face. My arms move fast and Wilders is unable to block them successfully. He lands on me, giving me a few small blows to the side as he regains his breath. The referee pulls him off and steadies him, looking in his eyes for any sign of a problem. “You okay?”
