by Robin Huber
“Listen to me,” Tristan shouts, crouching down in front of me, while I sprawl my tired arms and legs in the corner of the ring. “You’ve got to make him miss. He can’t get a straight left hook on you. Don’t let him hit right. Keep making him use that left hand, okay?”
“I’m trying. He’s fucking fast.”
“So are you.” He wipes my forehead with a towel. “Slow him down, he’s getting tired.”
“I am too.”
“Just watch his right, that’s where his strength is. Keep on him, tire him out, stay on his right side. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” I shrug off Mikey, who’s trying to give me water. “I’m good,” I say to him, barely able to hear myself over the crowd.
“Look at me, Sam,” Tristan shouts, grabbing my attention again. “This is your night. He’s not going to take it from you. We’re not going to let him. We got you,” he says, patting his heart. “It’s your night. Now go take it.”
He jumps down out of the ring and I stand up on my tired legs, forcing my heavy feet to carry me to the center of the mat.
Both fighters looking tired as we enter the eleventh round…While Sam appears to have won most of the earlier rounds, it looks like the last few went to Carey…It’s going to be a close fight to the finish.
Carey stands across from me, holding his gloves up, but I see his arms swaying a little. I’m not that tired. I drop my head from side to side and wait for the bell. When it rings, I throw a left hook without hesitating that takes him by surprise.
“Use your speed, Sam, use your speed!” Tristan shouts from beside the ring.
I throw another left hook and a right hook that connects with Carey’s face, but he swings his arm around me to keep from stumbling back. “Get off me!” I growl over my mouth guard, punching his shoulder with my right glove, but he pushes me across the mat into the corner.
“That’s holding!” Tristan and Miles shout in unison. “He’s holding!” Tris yells again.
Carey punches me several times, hitting my shoulder and neck and jaw, so I go to body shots, hitting his ribs a few times, before the referee pulls us apart.
“Get off, get off.” The ref pushes Carey across the mat and I follow him back to the center of the ring. “You good?” he asks me, and I nod.
I take my stance in front of Carey and square my tense shoulders.
“He’s no champ!” Miles shouts, and Carey smiles over his mouth guard. He takes a swing, but I dodge it.
“There you go,” Tris says, circling the outside of the ring with me. “Keep moving those feet, keep moving, Sam! Move your head.” Carey punches left and I miss it. “Good!”
He dodges my right hook, but I inch closer and throw a hard left hook that smacks the side of his face and resonates through my arm all the way up to my shoulder. Carey stumbles back, but I stay on him.
“Apply that pressure, Sam! Apply the pressure,” Tris shouts at me, and I feel the energy from the crowd behind him buzzing through the arena. But Carey comes back with a fast right hook that connects with my face, and it pauses the world around me for a second. I blink as the arena comes rushing back into my ears, but Carey’s glove connects with my face again.
“Come on, Sam! Watch his right!”
I move my feet and watch him circle me.
“You can’t beat me!” he screams through the blood and sweat pouring down his face.
The bell rings in my ears over my pounding heart.
I don’t believe it! I don’t think anyone thought we’d see twelve rounds tonight…Both fighters look tired…Carey Valentine definitely looks worse off with that cut over his eye, but I don’t think he’s ready to give up yet…Can you blame him? He’s got a lot to prove…So does Sam. A whole career and a much talked about retirement. He is not going to go quietly into the night…Maybe Carey was a little too confident agreeing to this match.
Tristan climbs into my corner and crouches in front of me while Mikey gives me water. “You’ve got to punch and get out of the way, Sam. Just keep moving.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all night?”
“Yeah, well, just keep doing it. Stay focused. This is the last one, okay? This is it. This is your moment. Now you get back up and you take it. Don’t let him steal it from you, you take it! Take it for me and Lucy and your baby. Take it for Joe.”
Sam, Eight Months Earlier
“Sam, what’s eatin’ ya?” Joe asks, watching me hit the speed bag.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’ve said three words all morning. You’re not fine.” He sips his coffee from a paper cup. “Did I do something?”
I stop hitting the bag and look at him. “No, Joe, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“So I noticed.” He raises his thick eyebrows and asks, “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
I drop my head and catch my breath for a few seconds. “Lucy’s pregnant.”
His eyes widen a little, but he does his best to hide his shock. “She’s pregnant?”
I bring my gloves up and begin hitting the speed bag again. “Yeah. She found out last week.”
He nods and sips his coffee again. “Well, that’s…a surprise.”
“Yep.” I keep hitting the bag.
“Is it a good surprise?” he asks carefully, and I drop my gloves again.
“Yeah…it is.”
The corners of his mouth turn down and he gives me a concerned look. “But you’re worried.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m happy about it, I really am,” I say, smiling over the worry that’s consumed my every thought I’ve had since I found out. “I’ve always wanted kids with her. But now that it’s happening, I’m just, freaking out a little. I don’t know anything about being a father. I guess I’m just worried that I’ll mess it up somehow.”
He walks over to a chair and sits down. “You remember your first match?”
“My first amateur match?” I ask, sitting next to him.
“Yeah, what was his name? Pritchett something?”
“Danny Pritchett.” I nod over a small frown. “I hated that kid.”
“You were scared of that kid,” he clarifies.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I was.”
“You were scared of him because he was good. He was really good.”
“Yeah, way to take it easy on me for my first match.”
“I put you up against him, because I knew you were better than he was. You just didn’t know it yet.”
“I won that match.”
“Yeah, and almost every other one after it.” He holds his head back and turns his palms up. “Now look at you.”
“So what are you saying? I was scared for no reason?”
“No, you had good reason. Everyone was scared of that kid.” He laughs. “Just like every parent is afraid of screwing up. It’s normal to have doubts about becoming a father, Sam, but…I think this kid is pretty damn lucky.”
“You do?”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “You’re going to be a great father, Sam.”
I smile and hold my glove out. “Well, I’ve had a pretty great role model.”
He smiles and hits my glove with his fist. “Come on, Rocky, we’ve got work to do.”
* * *
“Protect yourself, Sam! Keep those hands up,” Tristan shouts from beside the ring.
I bring my shoulder up to my ear and block a punch that Carey throws at me.
Look at that defense. I’ll tell you, this is the work of Sam’s longtime trainer—and coach tonight—Tristan Kelley, who worked alongside Joe Maloney for years.
“Good! Good!” Tristan shouts.
Carey punches me again and I fire back with a strong right hook.
“Protect yourself!”
“Finish him, Sam, finish him!” Miles screams.
I throw a left hook and uppercut to his ribs, pushing Carey back against the ropes, but he pivots and gets around me,
pushing me against them instead.
“Get off the rope! Get off the rope!”
He punches me hard and the arena goes quiet again.
Come on, Sam, Joe growls in my ear, show him the lion inside you.
I push off the ropes with a loud roar. “Ahhhh,” I yell, hitting Carey hard.
It’s a fight to the finish…Sam Cole is firing away.
“Yeah, baby,” Miles screams. “Show him who the real champ is!”
“Southpaw, Sam, southpaw!” Tristan screams, and I pull my left arm back, releasing it with all the power I’ve got left.
Southpaw uppercut and Valentine goes down!
The mat shakes under my feet and the ref runs over and begins counting over Carey. One…two…three…four…
He is not getting up. This might be it, ladies and gentlemen. Carey Valentine is not getting up.
Carey pulls his knees under him and falls over again.
Seven…eight…
“He’s done, he’s done!” Miles shouts, charging the ring.
Ten! the referee shouts, and the arena goes crazy, flooding my ears with screams and cheers.
The fight is over and Sam Cole has regained his title as the light-heavyweight champion of the world!
I close my eyes and drop my head, feeling Miles and Tristan’s arms around me. “You did it, baby! You did it!”
I lift my heavy arms and hug Tristan. “This was you, it was all you.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the announcer says over the arena speakers, from Madison Square Garden in New York City, at three minutes and two seconds into the final round, your winner by knockout, the light-heavyweight champion of the world…Sam.…Cole!
Everyone shouts and crowds into the ring around me. Miles holds my arm up, and I put my gloves in the air as Mikey and Leon wrap the heavy belt around my waist. The cameras move in, getting close-ups of me, and I can only think of one thing. Lucy.
“Call Lucy,” I say to Miles over the noisy crowd and the pounding inside my chest. “Call Lucy!”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and makes a concerned face when he looks at it. He looks up at me and Tristan. “Come on, let’s get to the dressing room. Move,” he shouts to the people around us. “Sam, come on,” he says, leading me and the rest of the team down out of the ring.
I hold my gloves up and smile for the cameras that follow us through the arena, until we’re alone in the dressing room.
Miles closes the door behind us.
“What is it, Miles?”
“Hold on,” he says, holding his phone to his ear. “I couldn’t hear out there. I got a message from Sebastian.” He listens with the same concerned look on his face.
Tristan grabs my sore shoulder and squeezes it. “They probably couldn’t wait to congratulate you.”
Miles lowers the phone and gives me a panicked look. “Lucy’s in labor.”
I blink at him a few times and shake my pounding head. “What? No, that’s not right. She can’t be.”
He puts the phone on speaker and plays the message again.
Miles, it’s Sebastian. When the fight’s over, I need you to have Sam call me. Lucy’s in labor. We’re on our way to the hospital now…
Not until the fight’s over, Lucy says in the background, and my drained heart races inside my aching chest.
After the fight, have him call me, Sebastian reiterates.
“Get these fucking gloves off me now,” I shout to anyone within reaching distance. “Come on!” I shout, holding my gloves out. Tristan quickly begins to unlace them. “Call him back now,” I say to Miles. “Put it on speaker.”
Miles calls him and holds the phone out in front of me while it rings. “Miles?” Sebastian answers.
“Sebastian, its Sam. What’s happening? Where’s Lucy?”
“Sam, thank God. You need to come home. Get a flight as soon as you can. I think she’s going to have this baby tonight.”
“How long has she been in labor?” I ask, shocked.
“Since before the fight. Her water broke during the fourth or fifth round. I can’t remember, it’s all running together.”
“Her water broke?” I ask, panicked.
“Yes! We’re on our way to the hospital now. She’s been having really strong contractions.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“Hold on.”
“Sam?” Lucy cries into the phone.
“Hi, baby. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she says unconvincingly.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. If I had known—”
“You won.” I hear the smile in her voice, which resonates deep inside my aching chest. “You did it, Sam. I’m so proud of you.”
I close my eyes over the conflicting feelings of joy and angst. “I’m coming home, Luc, just try to hold on for me. I want to be there so bad.”
“I know. I want you here too.” Her voiced trembles.
Tristan tugs my gloves off, and I take the phone in my wrapped hand and hold it up to my ear. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Just try to hurry.” She stifles a cry. “I need you.”
I swallow the guilt that’s choking me. “I will. I love you, Lamb.”
There’s silence.
“Lucy?”
Ahhhh, I hear her cry away from the phone.
“Lucy?”
“She’s having another contraction,” Sebastian says, and my heart pounds inside my chest.
“Sebastian…”
“I know. Just…hurry, okay?”
“Okay.”
I hang up the phone and hand it back to Miles. “You have to find us a flight now. We have to leave.”
“Yeah, okay.” He makes another call.
I look at Tristan, who’s as shocked as everyone else in the room. “We have to go now, where’s my bag?”
Miles holds his phone away from his mouth and says, “This is going to take a few minutes, go get a shower.”
“I don’t care about a shower!”
“Go take a shower.” He nods toward the bathroom. “You can’t meet your baby girl looking like that.”
I exhale a frustrated breath and hold my hands up in front of Tristan. “Cut the tape off.”
He pulls me over to a chair and sits me down, then he works to get the tape off. “You’ve got to get checked by the doctor before we go. It’s regulation.”
“Well, where the hell is he?”
“I’ll go get him.” He finishes cutting the tape off my hands and then goes to get him.
I open and close my sore fingers a few times, eyeing my red knuckles.
Leon grabs my face and turns it from side to side. “Your cheeks are a little red, but your face looks okay. I don’t see any swelling.”
Tristan returns with the doctor, who steps beside Leon and says, “Why don’t you let me take a look?”
“Hey, doc, I feel fine,” I say, eager to get in the shower, but he takes his time with the examination. He looks in my eyes and ears, he checks my reflexes, he feels my ribs. Finally he looks at Tristan, who’s watching intently, and says, “All clear, he looks good.”
“Thanks, doc,” Tristan says, shaking his hand.
“Much better than last time,” he says to me, giving me a slanted look.
“You should have seen the other guy,” I groan, getting up.
“I did.”
I roll my eyes and head for the shower.
“You need any help?” Tristan asks.
“No, I’m good. I’m tired, but I feel okay.” Besides the sudden burst of adrenaline and anxiety that’s still pulsing through my veins.
“All right, I’ll get you some ibuprofen and some water. I’ll put it on the counter. Take it when you get out.”
“Okay.” I take off my shorts and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is wet with sweat and there are red marks on my face and chest, but no blood or cuts. I close my eyes and inhale a slow breath. This is not how I wanted to meet my daughter. I open
my eyes and turn on the water. When it’s barely warm, I step in.
I shower in record time, trying to keep my thoughts off Lucy, but it’s impossible. I struggle between the guilt of not being there, the fear of something going wrong, and the sadness I’ll never be able to erase if I miss our daughter’s first breath. I get out and dry off, eyeing the bag that’s hanging on the back of the door, which is holding my suit for the press conference.
“Miles,” I shout, and he comes into the bathroom. “You’re crazy if you think I’m doing the conference.”
He shakes his head. “Obviously you’re not doing the conference. Relax. But what the hell else are you going to wear?”
“I’ve got his bags,” Mikey shouts, carrying my duffle bag into the bathroom. “I called the hotel and had them bring everything over.” He smiles. “You’re lucky the hotel is only a few blocks away.”
“Thanks, Mikey.” I open it and search for my joggers and a T-shirt. When I find them I get dressed and find my sneakers.
Miles walks back into the bathroom. “Sam, I couldn’t get a flight in the next hour.”
“Then keep looking.”
“So I chartered a private jet.”
“Oh…you did?”
“Yeah, it’s ready to go when we are. We just have to get to Teterboro.” He looks at his watch. “Traffic shouldn’t be too bad at this hour. Get your shoes on.”
“How long is the flight?”
“About two hours.”
I close my eyes and exhale a worried breath. “What am I going to do if I miss it, Miles?”
“You’re not gonna miss it. I’m not gonna let that happen, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, knowing he has no more control over the situation than I do.
“But hurry your ass up. You ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Let’s go!”
Chapter 24
Lucy
I lay my head back against the seat rest in Sebastian’s car and close my watery eyes, but tears roll down my cheeks.
“He’ll make it, Lucy, don’t worry,” Sebastian says, driving much too fast.
