by Lily Zante
Lou turns to me and lowers the sound. “You’re not ready.”
“I’m ready. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“No. You’re. Not.” He turns the TV off, as if to indicate that the conversation is over.
It’s not. This is a chance. Any chance. I’ll take it. A long shot maybe. A to-the-moon-and-back long shot, but if you don’t try you don’t get.
“I fought Perez two years ago and I almost had him.”
“Almost isn’t good enough,” Lou says, swivelling around on his chair and facing me across his messy desk.
“He won on points,” I snarl. A technicality, but most people think I won.
“He won,” Lou insists.
“But he had a shot at fighting Garrison,” I protest. If Perez, whom I consider to not be as great a fighter as me, had a chance to fight the heavyweight champion, and now he's had to drop out because he made a mistake, that's on him. Failing a drug test? The guy is a bigger idiot than I thought. I don't go near any of that shit.
It's a golden opportunity, and it should be mine.
“Try me.” I don't beg, but, fuck me, if this is what it’s going to take... “Put me forward. What have you got to lose?”
“You, Eli. I don't want you to take the battering.”
My gut hardens. “Who said anything about taking a battering? I can win. I can. At least give me a chance.”
This sucks. Lou sucks. I love this guy, but as time goes on, I'm starting to wonder if I need to move.
I've had a few managers call me ever since I beat Koshkin. I'm not going to tell Lou, yet. I wasn't interested, but now I'm beginning to wonder if I need to move on.
I've been in worse positions before. As a child. I've had people give up on me. I know what it's like to have people look at me and see a loser.
Lou tries to pacify me with his usual line. “A few more fights, and then we’ll start putting you against the—”
“This is bullshit.”
His face clouds over. “What did you say?” It’s only when Ernesto drops the screwdriver that I realize how out of line I am. I hadn't even heard him come in.
I bite my tongue, try to open my fisted hands but I’ve clenched them too tightly. “Sorry,” I mumble.
Lou cups a hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear you, what was that?”
“Sorry,” I mumble again, but I keep my attention on Ernesto who bends down, rather slowly, to pick up his dropped tool. The guy is way too old to be doing this handyman stuff, especially in the crumbling, falling-to-pieces shithole that is this gym.
“I didn’t hear you,” croaks Lou, loud enough that even the guys fighting in the ring by the corner can probably hear him.
“So—rry,” I growl, as loudly as I can.
He jabs a finger at me. “That,” he spits the word out with venom, “is the goddamned reason you’re not ready. Your temper.”
I bite down on my teeth again. I’m one of the best boxers in Chicago and I’ve been with Lou long enough, yet he treats me with kid gloves. He thinks I won’t be able to handle it.
The muscles along the right side of my jaw flex.
Lou holds up his hands in a boxing stance. “This, yes. You’ve got this.” Then he points to his head. “Here, not so much.” Ernesto chuckles softly in the corner, then coughs when he turns around and gets my dirty look. I don’t need to stand here and listen to this shit. I’m better than that. “You’re too angry, Eli. Too out of control. Too impatient.”
“If I’m out of control it’s because I’m sick and tired of this bullshit.”
“Yeah?” Lou sneers. He’s getting as pissed off with me as I am with him. “You go into the ring with one of the real heavyweights, a real contender, and you’ll wind up dead or so badly injured you won’t be able to fight again.”
I shake my head. I’m fed up with people putting me down. I’m aware that Lou’s doing this on purpose, that it’s his way of beating me down so that I’ll claw my way up. That’s a metaphor for my life. I don’t need that now, when I’m hungry for a shot at something big.
I keep my lips firmly pressed together because protesting is pointless. Lou jabs another crooked finger at me. “Impatient, volatile, and rash. You. Don’t. Think.” He taps a finger to his head again, which really pisses me off because he thinks I don’t get it and so he needs to say it over and over again, to drum the message home.
I’ve seen the way people judge me, put me in a pigeonhole. I’m used to people thinking I’m stupid. They look at me, at my muscles and tattoos, and think I probably don’t have any brains. Surviving, the way I have, means having more smarts and guts than anyone I know.
Apart from Nina.
She hasn’t suffered like me, but neither of us have known a happy, easy life. I hate the people who have.
“All done,” says Ernesto, moving to the side to show Lou his handiwork. “Sorry to interrupt.” He moves the door handle which no longer looks like it’s going to fall off.
“Great. Shoulda been fixed months ago.” Lou waves him away and Ernesto shuffles out of the room.
“Shouldn’t he be retiring?” I ask Lou. Ernesto is like a piece of the furniture here, but watching him just now, I see how old and frail he really is.
“He needs this job. I don’t need him, he needs this place.” Lou sits back down and heaves out a loud breath, as if he’s just set down a heavy weight. My confrontations always wear him down, but I’m sick of having easy fights. No big fighter is going to see me as a worthy opponent if I’m stuck in this shitty little gym, playing small.
I turn around and get the hell out.
Chapter Six
ELI
* * *
When all else fails, I head to Frankie’s Kitchen. It’s one of my favorite places in Chicago, which might be because my sister works there and I get to hang out there and chill.
It’s not quite lunchtime and the place isn’t too busy yet. Nina is serving a table full of guys. I deliberately go over and sit at the table next to them, as the protective brother vibe consumes me. Nina looks up, sees me, and smiles. I observe the three guys. College students, it looks like, judging by their sweatshirts and knapsacks.
“Hey, champ.” Frankie, the owner, comes over and bends down to give me a hug. It’s kind of awkward as I’m sitting down. I try to get up but she motions for me to stay put. “Congrats, Eli. You make this city proud.”
“Thank you.” At least I make someone proud; you wouldn’t think so looking at Lou.
“I heard it was a great fight.”
“She still didn’t watch, huh?” I jerk my head towards Nina.
“Does she ever?” Frankie snorts, giving me the once over. “You’re not cut up too bad this time.”
“You should see the other guy.”
“I can imagine. Poor sucker.” She pulls out a pencil. “What can I get you today?” I open up the menu even though I know what to order.
“I’m not sure.”
“I guess I ought to give Nina a break so the two of you can catch up?”
“Would be good, thanks, Frankie.”
“Thank you,” she says, pointing her pencil at me. “This place is definitely getting busier these days. You should buy shares in this place seeing that you spend so much time here.”
“If there were shares, I would.” I spend most of my life in the gym, and the rest of the time here. Occasionally I’ll go over to Athena’s place for some relief.
Nina sashays over, and Frankie disappears. I stand up, see the way Nina looks me over, as if she’s examining every inch of my face for scars and wounds. I hug her before she looks too deeply. “You won,” she whispers as we pull apart, her hands clasped together as if she’s thanking God that I’m all in one piece.
“I won.”
“That’s good.” She glances at the other tables that need waiting on then slides into the booth opposite me.
“Frankie said you could take your lunchbreak now, so you don’t have to keep worrying about yo
ur customers.”
She looks at me sheepishly. “I was hoping to catch up on my homework.”
I slap my hand to my forehead. “You’re always doing homework.”
“I have to. This one counts towards the final result.” She tugs at the cuffs of her sleeves.
“But I can get it done later,” she says quickly, her eyes taking in more than my surface level façade. “What’s up?”
Nina knows me so well, enough to know that something is up even though I thought I was doing a good job hiding my disappointment.
“The guy who was supposed to fight Garrison isn’t fighting him anymore. He failed a drugs test.”
“And?”
“And?” Not her as well. Isn’t it obvious? Why does no one else see this? “I was hoping that Lou might think about putting me forward.”
“Elias.” Her brown eyes grow large, and all scaredy looking. I never understand why people get scared for me, when I’m the one stepping into the ring, not them.
“I want a shot. Just one.”
“But, Garrison? Isn’t he the guy they call ‘The Tank’?”
I nod. “So, you also don’t think I have what it takes?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Who says I’m going to get hurt?”
I wish she had more faith in me. Out of everyone, she always has. I get it, she’s scared for me. She’s had to clean me up more times than I can count, especially when we were broke and I needed the money from the illegal fights in the fight club. Nina has cleaned up my blood more times than I can remember. It was a lot to ask, but I’ve never had anyone to rely on. We need each other.
“I won’t get hurt.”
“But it’s a big fight, Elias.” She gives me the type of look a concerned mother would give a child. Except that Nina and I never really knew our parents.
I will get hurt. Fact. No one steps into the ring with a champion and expects to walk away unscathed. Even I know that. But I can take the punches. I can take the hits. I can take my face being smashed, my ribs being broken. I can take my skin tearing, the flesh bruising.
I can take it all.
“Hey, Eli.” Nina’s tarty waitress friend comes over. “That was an awesome fight.” She raises her hand to high five me, and even though I don’t want to raise my hand, I do because it means I can get rid of her quicker. Her eyes are all lit up and I can see that she wants to give me a celebratory hug but I stay seated and fold my arms. It doesn’t stop her from resting her hand directly on my bicep, though. “You were so good, Eli.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, failing to lift my lips into a smile.
“You knocked him out. The guy just fell to the floor.”
“I know. I was there.” My voice is flat and dull and weighed down with sarcasm.
She swats me on my arm. “You’re so funny.”
“I’m really not trying to be.” The deadpan face is lost on her.
“It’s getting busy again,” she says to Nina.
My sister doesn’t respond except to toss her head in the direction of a few other servers standing over by the counter. “Ask them. I’m talking to my brother.”
“Uh—uh—” Barbie doesn’t know how to react to that. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asks me again. I can’t stand her, but she seems to have a thing for me. It bugs the heck out of Nina, and it bugs the heck out of me. It’s not that she’s ugly or anything—she isn’t. She’s just too eager to please. She has no finesse. She seems easy. Like Athena. That’s not the type of girl I want.
“No. No, and no.”
She takes the hint and gets lost. Nina leans forward with her arms folded on the table. “You were so rude!”
“She’s a flirt.”
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” Nina protests. Despite all that we’ve been through, it never stops amazing me how soft my sister is. She would see the goodness in a murderer. She thinks the world is a good place, full of nice people. She should know better.
I shrug. I don’t have time for airheads.
“You can’t fight that guy, Elias. You can’t.”
We’re back to talking about Trent Garrison. “You and Lou are the same.” Him I can take, but Nina, not so much. She’s being overly protective, just as I am with her, but what’s the point of being a boxer if you’re not going to aim high? I don’t consider this to be a side hustle. This is my main job. My career. The reason I was put here.
“Don’t worry,” I say, sinking back against the thick backrest. “I’m not in any danger of getting a decent fight anytime soon. Definitely not with someone like Trent.”
Her lips curve upwards, and she sits back, as if a huge bag of worries has lifted from her shoulders. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m a boxer. It’s in the job description.”
“Hang on.” She tosses a glance around the diner. It’s starting to get busy now. “I’ll be back.” She rushes over to take an order. I stare out of the window and watch a group of people who look as if they’re trying to decide whether to come in or not.
I could quit.
It’s the first time such a thought has entered my mind, but I have felt something bubbling in the undercurrent of my thoughts. Chaos adrift, my thoughts in disarray. Me questioning my ability. Something has shifted. I feel edgy. Uneasy. Unhappy.
Lou has been good, but I need more than good. I need someone to believe in me the way I believe in myself.
The way I used to believe in myself.
As time goes on, I’m more aware of the seeds of doubt each win plants. Instead of moving ahead, I seem to stagnate. Maybe I’m not as good as I think I am.
“What’s really going on?” Nina asks, sliding back into her seat again. Her voice is sharp, like it is sometimes when she gets pissy, as if this is an extra thing to take on, as if we haven’t already had enough crap to deal with in the past. “Elias?”
I look up at her, lost in my thoughts.
“Come over tonight and I’ll make something you like,” Nina offers. “Unless you’re seeing Athena tonight.”
I appreciate Nina wanting to make something for me to cheer me up, but food isn’t going to plug the hole in my soul. I feel like I’ve hit the midlife crisis about thirty years too early.
I shake my head. I have no plans to see Athena again so soon, even though she’s left a few messages on my phone. Yeah, something is definitely off in my life if I’m not even up for a booty call. “No.”
“No, what?” Then, “Elias!” Nina kicks me gently under the table. “What is wrong with you?”
“I just want a shot at something worthwhile. I just want someone to believe in me.”
“I believe in you.”
“You’re my sister. You’re meant to.”
She giggles and then her face sobers as Frankie walks past. “I’m supposed to be working.”
“Frankie said you could take your lunch break now.” Frankie would let my sister get away with murder, but Nina isn’t the type to do anything wild or crazy. She works at the diner most of the time and in the evenings she goes to night school. “Let me guess, you’re still thinking about your homework.”
She winces at my accurate assessment. I should let her go back to work, so that she can use her break to catch up on her homework. This is what Nina lives for: studying all the courses at the local night school. Just like getting into the ring and beating a guy is the sick thing that I live for.
Nina looks after me, and I look after her. It’s always been that way. From the home from hell, to the children’s home, through various foster homes. We’ve been lucky in that we’ve managed to stay together. When she turned eighteen and got out of the system, that was our path to a better life. A childhood like ours leaves scars, but I reckon we’ve managed to hide ours well. Mine are under these tattoos and toned body. And Nina? I’m not sure. She’s quiet, yet feisty when she needs to be, polite and thoughtful. A little introverted, some would say. I just want her to b
e happy and safe and I do what I can to make it be so.
“No night school today?” I’ve lost count of the number of courses she’s taken.
She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m taking a break.”
I tilt my head. This is interesting news, coming from Nina. She doesn’t take a break. She doesn’t have a huge circle of friends. She’s not got a boyfriend, hasn’t had one for a long time. It strikes me as odd, but it would be even odder for me to ask her about it.
I usually end up giving dirty looks to guys who seem as if they’re interested in her. I’ve been here many times and seen it for myself. Given the number of times she gets hit on, I’m really surprised, now that I find myself thinking about it, about her single status.
“Taking a break from what?” Maybe we’re both going through this same malaise and restlessness.
“I’m evaluating my future.”
I sit up, paying close attention. That’s exactly how I’m feeling. We’re not twins, but sometimes, we think so alike it surprises me. “Yeah? And what have you decided?”
But she’s not even looking at me, she has her hand in the pocket of her apron, ready to pull out a pen. A large group of customers has walked in and are settling into a table a few tables away from us. “I have to go.” Taking orders, that’s all she’s got on her mind.
I pick up the menu, but I’m not hungry, so I get up and leave. This is another sign that I’m feeling out of sorts, because I’ve never walked into Frankie’s and left empty handed.
Chapter Seven
ELI
* * *
Weeks pass.
I’m back in my normal routine. Lou hasn't lined up any fights for me, not even a mediocre fight with a just above average fighter.
I focus on my training. Set my sights on the big players, know I have to prove myself to Lou even more. Hope I get lucky, though luck never really helped me before. Prayers, and hugs, and thoughts never worked. I don’t believe in that shit anymore. That stuff got kicked the hell out of me when I was five.
