That next day at evening Sam sat with Stan and Mel, all three of them at Fred’s. Mel had decided to blast himself, having tomorrow off, and Claudia was given the keys. Sam took a single beer, as was his custom, and Stan decided not to have any.
“I’m trying to get into shape,” Stan tried to explain this to Sam, who raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, Kelly’s getting in shape and all…it just seems like a good idea right now.”
Mel just made fun of him for it. Sam supported it, on the other hand. “Come with us next time Kelly’s training; it’s mostly boxing and stuff, but there’s some conditioning you can do.”
Stan looked tempted, but then he waved it off. “Nah. I’ll just find a gym.”
“Sure, Stan,” Mel elbowed him. “Tomorrow night you’ll be back here like a man dyin’ of thirst.”
Claudia ignored them both and asked Sam, “How’s Kelly doing?”
“His training’s great. He’s been pushing himself.” Sam shrugged. “Had a little trouble with some guy that Bob found off of the street, but besides that, Kelly’s been doing well.”
“What do you mean, ‘had trouble?’” Stan looked at Sam quizzically. “There’s bums at this training thing of yours?”
Sam shook his head, trying to deny it. “Look, it was just one guy. He left anyway.”
“Right, and before you know it he’ll be back…” Sam’s attention left Stan pretty quickly the moment the door to Fred’s opened, and Tara Fields came in.
She spotted them and came to sit down next to Claudia, who she exchanged hi’s with. “So where’s Kelly tonight?” She asked Sam, drilling him with her eyes.
“I think he’s,” Mel looked confused. “I think he’s working, ain’t he?” he glanced at Stan for confirmation. “Is he?”
“Yeah. It sucks he’s part time now,” Stan sighed. “Who am I gonna pass the time with now? Everyone else that works now is boring, or stuck up.”
“Since when’s that stopped you before? You were doing fine before Kelly got the job.” Sam said.
“Well, you see, back then I had a girl that was working there, and-” Stan suddenly made a face and stopped talking. “You know what? Forget I said anything about that. Personal business that still hasn’t been cleaned up yet.”
“How so?” Sam asked.
Stan ignored the question. “How so?” Tara asked this time.
Stan reluctantly gave in. “She’s pregnant. Claim’s it’s my kid. But I doubt that’s the case.” His good humor had vanished without a trace, and he had himself another beer.
No one said anything for a moment. Mel paid his tab and stood up. “See you all later,” He made sure Claudia had the keys to their car and everyone said goodbye.
Stan hunched over miserably as he stared down the barrel of his beer, as if the answer to his problem lay at the bottom. He knew it wasn’t the case. It never was. Sam leaned closer to him.
“So why haven’t you taken care of it?” he asked.
“Abortion?” Stan shrugged. “She wants it.”
“What?” Tara glared at him. “You don’t? Why wouldn’t you? It’s your child; you should be happy!”
Stan returned her glare fiercely. “I think I just said that I’m not sure if it’s mine.” He snorted. “She got drunk one night and ended up in bed with some cheap ******.”
Before Sam could even react, Tara slapped Stan hard. Several people looked their way after that, just waiting for something to happen.
Nothing did. Stan stood up abruptly and walked out. “Hey!” Fred hollered after him. “Get back here and pay your bill, Stan!” Sam touched his sleeve.
“I’ll pay it.” He assured him. “Here,” He put down several bills on the table, and rushed out the door. He saw Stan walking down the block, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his back to Sam.
“Stan!” Sam ran to catch up with him. “Hey, man, come here.”
Stan didn’t stop. “Come on,” Sam shouted. “Let’s talk about this.”
Stan still didn’t stop.
Sam finally caught up with him, matched his pace, and tried to get him to look Sam in the eye. Stan just stared straight ahead.
“Are we just gonna keep walking here?” Sam wondered aloud.
“You don’t have to.” Stan said. “I do. Got stuff to think about.” He spit viciously on the sidewalk. “Did you see her? Thinks just ‘cause she’s a Christian or whatever she can dictate how conversation goes or do whatever she wants.” He cursed. “Go back to her, man. She’s all yours. I don’t wanna go back with her in there.”
Sam gripped his jacket, forcing him to stop. “Take it easy.” He let go, and Stan remained where he was. “I paid your bill. You can go if you. But you should probably remember that the apartment is back that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.
Stan looked surprised. He took stock of where he was standing. “Great.” He muttered. “Look, it’s not that I want the kid dead. It’s not that I’m a cold-blooded killer or whatever that girl back there thinks. It’s just…” Stan appeared lost in his own thoughts for a moment. “I don’t know what to do man. She moved out of the city months ago. She’s probably with that ni-” he almost said it again, but caught himself. “She’s probably with that guy still. What do I do with that?”
Sam digested this. And then, “You do what you think is right.” He said. “You said she’s keeping it?”
“Yeah,” Stan nodded. “Yeah.”
Sam nodded. He put a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you what to do. It’s your problem. You’re just gonna have to fix it yourself.” He took his hand away. “The training I was talking about; Kelly’s training. My offer’s still on the table. Come on down and train with us. You don’t have to fight. You can get in shape, help Kelly out, and,” Sam held up a finger. “You get in free to any fight card Kelly’s on. That sound good to you?”
Stan’s eyes changed then. An eagerness overtook them, and grinned. “That sounds great, man. Why would you do that for me?”
“Because that’s what friends do,” Sam guided him back the way they came. “C’mon. I’d better go straighten things out with Fred. You gonna come back with me?”
“No,” Stan’s eyes reverted to anger. “Not while Tara’s in there, no. Once she clears, out, maybe.”
Sam pulled him into an embrace. “It’s fine, bro. I’ll see you later.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Sam sat back down on the stool he’d left ten minutes before. Fred’s had gone back to its usual business, and everyone had forgotten about Stan’s outburst.
Tara sat on her stool lightly. Her eyes were cast down, and she refused to look Sam in the eyes for a little while. Sam ignored this as he sat there for twenty minutes, neither of them saying anything. Sam just stared straight ahead as if he was looking at the future at a long, far distance.
Finally, as if she couldn’t handle it anymore, Tara burst out, “I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have done that to him.”
Sam agreed. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”
“Did he go home?”
“Yeah.”
Tara’s cheeks darkened. For a moment, Sam thought he saw a visible tremor run through Tara. He felt bad then, and put a hand on hers. “He’s fine,” he said. “He just needs to think things over. He’ll straighten things out himself.”
“I hope so,” Tara said. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I…I just can’t believe he used that kind of language without even feeling regret about it. Doesn’t he care? Maybe his girlfriend made a mistake.”
Sam shook his head. “No, no mistake. I told him from the start that she was trouble. Stan didn’t listen.” He smiled humorlessly. “Now you’ve seen Stan for who he really is. He’s no different from me or Kelly.”
Tara was taken aback by his admittance. “What do you mean, you? You always seem like you’ve got it together when the other guys never do.”
“True enough,” Fred put a receipt down in front of Sam as they spoke. Sam laid down his payment, and stood up. “Let’s walk,” She got up and followed him quietly out the door.
He continued to speak when they were outside. “You know about me. I came from a hard place too. I just don’t talk about it much.”
“But it never seems like it. You’re always in a good mood, Sam,” She inched closer to him. “I don’t think you’ve noticed it.”
He looked at her quizzically. “Noticed what?” he asked coolly.
“Kelly,” Tara said. “You’re like the guy’s hero. Haven’t you noticed how he responds to you compared to the others? He treats you like you’re an older brother or something,” She paused, as if an afterthought occurred to her. “How did you meet him, anyway?”
Sam laughed a short bark. “I met him through the Organization of course. I was there for an amateur fight. I had just won when I saw him get in the ring to fight.” Sam chuckled as the memory came back to him. “I had the same locker room he had. He didn’t have anyone with him except Bob Seamon.”
“Bob Seamon?” Tara had a puzzled look on her face.
“His dad’s wrestling coach,” Sam laughed again, heartily. “You heard me right; Bob’s old. Real old. In a way, he’s Kelly’s guardian. Once Kelly’s dad passed away, Bob raised him until he got out of high school.”
“And Kelly told you all of this?” They came to Tara’s car. They paused outside of it.
“No; Bob did. Kelly doesn’t like talking about his past. The only thing he’s told me is that he loved his dad very, very much.” Sam shrugged. “So I met him that night. We both won our fights. I remember seeing his fight; he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how to throw a punch correctly. He didn’t know how to do anything; he just went in there throwing punches.” Sam started to laugh very hard. He was almost completely out of breath as he informed Tara, “He waded in there hitting the guy, knocking him backwards, but because he didn’t know anything but punching, the guy hit him with a knee that made Kelly fall over. He got back up, but the ref stopped the fight.” He composed himself then. “Kelly’s a soldier. I told you all of this because he and I, we’re not that much different from each other. Apart from the looks and personalities, we’re essentially the same man. Just lost souls floating down the river.”
Tara opened her door, her eyes meeting his for the first time since Stan’s outburst. “You don’t have to be a lost soul, Sam.”
Sam ushered her into the car. They hugged. “Yeah,” Sam said. “I’ve heard this before. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re wrong. But we’ll find out, won’t we?”
She was about to protest when he held a hand to her lips. “No, I’m not going to argue about it. It’s just me, Tara. You can’t change that.” He patted her leg. “I appreciate your care and concern, but if there’s a God, then he’ll do what he will with me. That’s just how it is.”
She drove off after that. Sam sauntered home by himself, feeling very much like a man who had taken a long journey only to come home and find his life in havoc.
“We gotta do something more often, instead of wasting our time.” Kelly sat next to Mel in the kitchen, the lights off, and quietly, somewhere in the background, a CD of Kelly’s – sounded like Bob Dylan – seeped forth with a gentle melody.
Mel was smoking, and Kelly held in his hands a bottle of water. Claudia was taking her sweet time coming home. The duo had been waiting for over an hour to surprise her. It was evening, and the sky light outside was beautiful. Claudia’s cake was on the counter, two feet away from Kelly. It was a white one, with pink frosting and red frosted roses. Claudia hadn’t an idea that Mel planned anything but a romantic dinner. Mel had more in mind, apparently.
Once the cake was presented, however, Kelly had promised to scram, and let them savor their night.
“So what are you gonna do toni-tonight?” Kelly tried to avoid sitting too close to Mel’s hands, which went to his lips to insert the cigarette back in for another round.
“Nothing you’ll get to see, that’s for sure. I’ve got three acts ready for her.” Mel spit smoke out in a quick burst. Kelly wrinkled his nose in disgust, unnoticed by Mel. Kelly hated cigarettes, but had gotten used to Mel’s smoking habit.
“What do you mean by acts?” Kelly put the bottle to his lips, mimicking Mel.
“By acts, I mean acts,” Mel said impatiently. “Boy, don’t you know what that means? Three parts of the party. Here, I’ll give you a hint. The cake. The wine. The pants. And then the desert comes after that.”
“After the pants? That-that-that-” Kelly rode it out while pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on the horizon. “That’s illogical.”
“What? No, it’s not!” Mel stood up. “Man, when you get a girl, you’ll start to understand things better. The abstract won’t be abstract no more.”
“Abstract?”
“Yeah, man,” Mel said. “Passion. Sex. All of the things that’s supposed to make ‘love’ into somethin’ more, and all of that. That’s a concept you don’t know jack about right now, boy. You need to find out. Soon. Real soon. Otherwise, I don’t know how you gonna survive.” He sat back down next to Kelly, further away now. He pitched his cigarette out the window, and it landed on the empty street below.
Kelly didn’t argue with that.
They sat there for a few moments, and then Mel hit him in the shoulder. The shoulder was sore after Mark had put Kelly in an armbar earlier that day. Kelly felt a blaze of annoyance flare up after the fire rose up in his shoulder from Mel’s punch; but he let it go. “What?”
“What are you doing here?” Mel got indignant. “Get out of here, man. Go find Tara or something. My night’s gonna get started soon; yours ain’t even begun yet. Go!” He hit Kelly again, and Kelly had had enough. Kelly went at him, and Mel tripped him neatly. Kelly was startled by this.
“When did you learn how to wrestle?” he gasped for air as Mel dropped knees-first onto his chest.
“My dad was All American, kid,” He slapped Kelly’s cheek twice, and Kelly swung. Mel ducked under it, and slapped him again. “I was a state runner up once.” He got up. “Now seriously. Quit wastin’ time and go do something man!”
The door opened slowly then. Kelly scrambled to his feet, and Mel leapt in front of the cake. Kelly followed, and they both hit heads as they blocked it off from sight of the doorway. They both glared sourly at each other, with Kelly rubbing his head with a hand.
“Uh, guys?” Claudia stood there, groceries in her hands. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was half-smiling. Sort of.
“Aw, we was just waitin’ for ya.” Mel grinned wide. Wider than Kelly had ever seen. It made him realize then that perhaps Mel was truly sincere in how deeply he cared about Claudia.
“Here,” Mel stepped back. Kelly followed suit. “Happy birthday, girl.” Mel said.
Claudia squealed in delight. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful! Oh, baby, thank you so much!” they embraced, leaving a very confused Kelly to stand off to the side to watch and learn.
Mel really did love her. Kelly didn’t know why he thought otherwise, but there was truly something between these two. As he stared at them, arms around each other, Mel’s hands ran up and down her back smoothly. Claudia repeated the pattern on Mel’s back. Kelly found himself fascinated…
Until Mel’s eye caught his. And then Kelly knew it was time to book. He tipped his head to his friend, and took off out the door.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
An hour later, Kelly found himself sitting with Tara Fields out on the pier that halted right at the edge of Chicago.
Looming over the pier was Lake Michigan, cold, lapping up against the pier gently. The breeze was cool; winter was dying slowly in Chicago, fading away until the next cycle of seasons passed through. The breeze wasn’t freezing cold, but uncomfortable enough for Kelly and Tara both to be wearing jackets. Even then, Tara shivered and pulled closer to Kelly. They didn’t touch, however.
The sun was down already; they had missed a while ago. But Kelly found staring at the lake in the dark spoke volumes louder than seeing a sunset. A sunset was bright; it revealed everything to you in a single flash. In the darkness of night, a man had to search with more than just his eyesight to find what he was looking for. A man had to feel his way through it all. Just like life, in fact. A feeling-out process that could take your whole life and leave you with nothing if you weren’t careful.
For his whole life, Kelly had been careful to read the signs in the night, and in the daylight look for clues. He had no idea where he was going; had no desire to do anything extraordinary. He didn’t want to be rich. He didn’t want to be famous. He didn’t want anything to do with television or the society it broadcast. Kelly was happy with what he already had.
He had fighting, and fighting had him. Intertwined, they needed each other more so than anything else. Kelly had a lot of anger in him. Fighting had a need for flesh to face flesh in combat. And so, man and fighting were perfect companions.
What was there besides this that satisfied Kelly? He honestly didn’t know. As Tara sighed contentedly, Kelly realized instantly that he had never been this close to a girl in his life. He had almost forgotten she was sitting there. So peaceful, so soft, so wonderful; Kelly wanted to hold her, but his arms remained planted into the wooden deck of the pier, while his and Tara’s legs dangled off of the pier.
“It’s so great, how the world works,” Tara said this, and Kelly didn’t know what to say. What do you say to that? Kelly wasn’t exactly sure.
“Yeah.” There you go. That was Kelly for you. Improvisation a must for the man who had to think quickly on his feet.
Tara looked at him. He couldn’t see her eyes too well, but he could feel her gaze burning a hole through his shell. This bothered him, and he looked away casually.
“So who are you, Justin?” She said it in such a smooth tone, Kelly wondered if she’d been practicing in case she had the chance to ask him.
Yet nevertheless, he answered thus, “Don’t call me that.”
“Call you what, Justin?” She broke out into a grin. “But that’s your name. What’s wrong with it? I like it.”
“I don’t.” he hunched over. “Kelly’s my name. Everyone calls me Kelly. You’re the only person I’ve met who doesn’t call me that. How come?”
“Because that’s not your first name. Your first name should tell more about yourself than your last name should.” She shifted closer, and Kelly’s head felt the waters had just been muddied.
“If you’re upset by that, I’m sorry,” She was speaking again. “But it seems to me that you’re hiding yourself away. Hiding behind Stan, Mel, and definitely Sam. I can see it. You try to hang out with them so that you don’t like you’re alone.”
“I t-thought-thought we’ve been over this,” he started stuttering; an uncontrollable difficulty when he was aggravated. “I am alone.”
“Then what is this?” She put her hand on his. Kelly’s hands were freezing; hers were warm, and slightly sweaty. She’d been keeping them in her pockets.
Kelly wanted to tear his hands away, but they remained planted, due to sheer will power if nothing else. God knew how Kelly was keeping together. He didn’t come here to answer her questions, nor did her come here to be pitied. He almost stood up, if it weren’t for the fact that her hand was still pressing down his own. She hadn’t moved it yet.
“Justin,” She said. “I haven’t known you for that long. But don’t you think that maybe talking could make you feel more comfortable?” She reiterated her original question. “Who are you?”
And so, he was ready to respond. “I’m a fighter. My dad was an alcoholic who was killed in a car crash down in the south. My mother just left me, and anyone else who was given me got rid of me as fast as they could. I’m a curse that can’t be broken. I’m just a black cat.”
Tara shook her head in the darkness. “And you honestly believe that?” She reached out to touch his face. Despite seeing that soft hand come near his face, Kelly kept himself like a stone sculpture. The hand dipped and touched his neck. “Where did these come from?” she was fingering one of the many grooves that ran down from his neck to chest. There were many more, on the back of his neck, on his arms, on his legs, stomach. They covered him, like a massive infection.
“They came from me.” He heard himself say calmly.
She didn’t respond right away, and Kelly pondered the fact that she was scared of him. She was going to get up and leave him here. She wanted nothing to do with a cutter; even if Kelly hadn’t cut himself in years.
And then he made it worse. He hadn’t intended to say anymore, but he did anyway. “It’s like taking a punch. There’s something to it that I can’t describe. But that’s why I fight; it kept me from doing it anymore. I lost a lot less blood fighting. And in the end, fighting might be the only thing that’s keeping me alive right now.”
She asked only one question in the dark, and it lingered in the air. If words had the power to conjure anything, the question would’ve hung over them, lit up like a street light or a WE’RE OPEN! sign in front of a shop.
“Why?”
Kelly had no comeback. No grandstanding answer that could satisfy her whim. He wanted to say that he was a warrior, like Sam was. He wanted to say that fighting made him a true person, but that wasn’t it either. But in the end, it boiled down to the answer that had always lay grounded in his stomach, like rancid meat in a ditch being attacked by a swarm of flies.
“B-because I’m alone.”
It became silent again, and this time Kelly was absolutely sure she was going to get up and leave him. He wouldn’t have blamed her; she wouldn’t have been the first to do so. And she probably wouldn’t be the last.
Kelly sat there for a full two minutes in dark agony, the suspense killing him. And then Tara stood up. Kelly stood up as well. “Maybe we’d better g-get you back.” Kelly said only to break the tension.
“No,” He expected the next words to hurt. Tara wiped her eyes. Took a deep breath. “You’re running away from me again; can’t you see that? That’s why you just said all of that. You’re afraid of me.”
The bomb exploded in his chest, and he laughed it off. “It’s just me.” He said.
“No, it’s not. It’s a shadow covering your heart, that’s what it is.” Tara started to walk to the car. Kelly followed like a puppy behind its master.
“Face it Justin. You’re scared because you’ve never really gone further than you already have. It’s like,” She pointed out towards the lake. “It’s like the pier. You want to go swimming one day with the guys. They all jump in the water. You’re about to go in when you realize that you’ve never swam before in your life. So you just stand on the pier, shouting out to them, trying to communicate from the pier, because you think that’s all the satisfaction you’re ever going to get.”
A slap to the face. Kelly stood there, wondering maybe if he should just get in the car and leave her.
“Kelly, why do you think I’m out here?” She held out her arms in a plea, almost.
Kelly shrugged. “Because you’re feeling sorry for me? Because you can’t turn down Mr. Stutterbox without hurting his feelings?”
“No,” She shook her head. “No, Justin. I’m here because I like you. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. You remind me of Sam, back in high school, when he was lost. He’s found himself since then; I have all the confidence in the world that you can find yourself to.” She opened the passenger seat and got in the car. Kelly went around to the other side, got in, and put his seatbelt on. Turned the car on as she spoke once more. “And you want to know something? Sam used to stutter too. He had it way worse than you did.”
Kelly just drove.
What else was there to do?
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Bob Seamon stood amongst the training group, pacing back and forth as they all stretched out, getting ready for the hardships they would have to endure that day. Bob was wearing a Bears jacket and a hat that was drooped down almost past his eyes. He was in a good mood that day. Bob was always happy when Fight Day was so close.
“Today’s a good day,” he started with a grand, beaming smile. “You know why that is? Because we’re gonna work hard. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a day of nothin’ but sweat. That’s a good day. If you ain’t sweatin’ or bleedin’ before you leave here today, don’t come back.”
Stan was giving Kelly frequent, worried glances, as if asking silently, is he for real? Kelly bit his lip to keep from laughing. Stan definitely looked out of place among the others. He was the only one without Cauliflower ears, or a crooked nose, or anything resembling that of a training fighter. A pretty boy straight from the higher levels of the city. But appearances aside, Kelly was happy to see him.
“I can’t stand the man who can’t stand to work,” Bob was still going on. “And I won’t have any slackers in here. That goes especially for you, rook.” He pointed a finger at Stan as he passed by.
“I only work here man.” Stan muttered. Kelly grinned.
“Get going!” Kelly and Sam went at it for sparring. Since Castillo had left Bob had paired Sam and Kelly off pretty much for everything. Sam was still faster. He was still more sound in technique than Kelly.
But with every day that passed, Kelly’s technique was getting better. Instead of getting lured into overthrowing, Kelly was now stalking Sam, forcing Sam to find an opening and not the other way around.
Sam walked into Kelly’s flurries twice, and went down once during Kelly’s fury. Bob had to tell Kelly to take it easy twice. Kelly still went at it furiously.
“Time! Kelly and the Rook get the bags. Sam and Mark are sparring.” Kelly and Stan both went over to the punching bags in the opposite corner of the sparring corner. Stan was dying; his breathing was labored, and he was resting his hands on his knees before he reached the bags. Kelly started banging away. Stan didn’t join him until thirty seconds later. He fired off a jab and a right straight repeatedly, the only two punches he knew.
Kelly was hitting the bag high and low, never ceasing, and never pausing for a moment. In front of him was no bag; in front of him was Axe, the champ, waiting for him to throw first. Hooks, bombs, haymakers, uppercuts, Kelly threw it all before Bob shouted “Time!”
Eventually, after technique hour was finished, it was time for cardio. That meant sprints. Block Sprints, timed burpees, all of the things that made training painful yet sweet.
Kelly was lined up next to Sam on an empty block. Bob cracked his neck. “Run out and then back twice.” He waited until Kelly and Sam were both ready, and then, “Go!”
Sprints hurt after hitting bags and bodies. Kelly’s chest felt raw and weak. His throat became filled with a thirst that was unquenchable. His heart was trying to inform him that it couldn’t take any more. But Kelly had endured this hell many times before, and he was not going to let Sam beat him.
It was even for the most part, with Sam slightly ahead of him. And then, on the final sprint, they were nose to nose. Both gave it all they got, and Sam ended up barely ahead at the finish.
“Next!” Bob shoved Stan and Brady forward. Their sprint was slightly slower. Mark had no partner, and Kelly’s fight was soon, so Kelly had the honor of going again.
“Go!” Mark wasn’t as fast as Sam was, but he had the endurance and the will to keep up with Kelly.
“How far are you willing to go to win?” Bob shouted at Kelly as he returned to the group. “Two minutes, two rounds? You’d better be ready to go twelve rounds.”
“All right guys, back into the gym. We’re goin’ to do some burpees.”
Back inside the gym, they all spaced out, not wanting to hit each other. Sam quickly showed Stan what a burpee was. “It’s like this. You drop down in to pushup form, and then do a pushup, and then jump back up…” Kelly shut his hearing off; he waited for Bob’s signal. Bob was looking him right in the eye, holding the stopwatch. He cleared his throat. Kelly took a deep breath and released it quickly.
“Go!” up and down up and down. Kelly’s body became a machine in a factory, automatically going through the steps while his mind was off. Literally off, as if a switch had been thrown, and Kelly wasn’t really living or even breathing; it was just a part of the machine just squeaking or beeping…
Pretty soon, cardio was over, and so was training. Everyone was bushed, but Stan by far was the worst. He barely got up off his knees after the burpees. Bob whistled when he noticed Stan.
“Looks like the pretty boy managed to stick around a few rounds. You still breathin’ boy?”
Stan didn’t even answer. He nodded erratically instead. Bob chuckled. “Guess I didn’t do a good job after all then.”
Everyone laughed, and Sam punched Stan in the arm lightly. “All right then,” Bob smiled. “The day’s yours, guys. Be ready. Fight Night is soon.” Everyone broke off. Bob grabbed Kelly before he could hit the showers.
“I want a word with you,” The old man said. Kelly followed him over to the mat. Bob started to clean up, getting the mop and broom ready for the mats. “Here,” he handed the broom to Kelly. “You get started.”
Kelly did what he was told. Bob started to speak while he brushed the whole mat. “You’ve been getting better, kid. I’ve been involved in this fighting stuff for years. Wrestled at the tender age of six. Took up boxing in college, and joined the US Special Forces during my prime.” He took his hat off. Underneath lay hair as white as a piece of unlined paper. At a close glance, his skin was pale and shriveled. Yet what lay underneath even those physical shells was the fire that Kelly held in his own heart. The desire to fight.
“I’ve seen a lot of talent in my years, but you’re different, kid. I’m not gonna say you’re better than everyone else I’ve seen, because that’s not true. But you know what?” He smiled briefly. “You’ve got the greatest heart I’ve ever seen In my life.” He paused as he put the mop flat on a clean part of the mat and began mopping. He seemed hesitant to speak as Kelly finished sweeping. But finally, he stopped mopping and took hold of Kelly’s eyes with his own.
“If your father knew what you were going to become…” Bob let it hang in the air. He went back to mopping. “Go on, boy. Go enjoy the day. But don’t forget the time.”
Kelly nodded. “Thanks, Bob. See you around.” He left the old man to finish the job, and went to shower. After that, he went back to find that Bob had left, the cleaning tools placed neatly in the corner. Kelly shook his head and smiled.
What a unique old man. And what a lucky person Kelly was to have Bob in his corner.
Kelly glanced at the clock. Weigh-ins were that night. He was going to be ready for it. The next day? Another war was to be waged. And Kelly couldn’t wait.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Lights of blue, red, blue, red switching back and forth. Strobe lights were flung out, stunning the crowd even more, followed by loud hark rock music blaring from the speakers.
It was a good night; the kind where the seats were all taken up. It was a night of thunder, hell and brimstone.
Sam sat next to Tara Fields once again, this time, closer to the ring, with a better view than last. Sam had been able to work things out with Black for such a case. Tara was still looking uncomfortable in the crowd. It would take her some time before she would get used to it. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she stared dead ahead at the ring, refusing to look anywhere else. Sam glanced at her, and then took a glance at the ring girls, who were sitting nearby, waving hello to fans and blowing kisses to others. The ring girls were good looking girls.
But none of the ring girls had anything on Tara Fields; most of the fans knew this; Sam heard more than one obscene comment spat their way, admiring Tara’s looks. He didn’t like it. Besides the fight with Chalkline, he had not fought a man in more than a year.
And he would not fight while Tara was present. He just couldn’t bring himself to do that to her. She already was nervous enough seeing Kelly fight. Sam put a comforting hand on her leg, and she jumped. “Relax.” Sam called to her through the crowd’s roars. “He’ll be fine. He was fine last time, and that time he had only four days to get ready. This time he’s prepared.”
Tara didn’t say anything. She was paying no attention to him. Either that, or she was deep in thought. About Kelly, perhaps? Sam could only wonder. He hoped for Kelly’s sake that Kelly was on Tara’s mind. He was proud of his younger friend for trying to work up the courage to speak more with Tara.
And yet, despite how long they’d been talking, apparently, Sam hadn’t heard a word of results yet. Kelly hadn’t said anything about any progress made with Tara. Kelly couldn’t help but wonder.
“Can he win?” Sam blinked away from daydreaming and concentrated on Tara’s question. She repeated herself. “Can he beat this guy?”
Sam nodded. “Without question. This guy’s good, maybe just as good as Cage was. But Kelly’s better. He’s been getting faster and stronger during training. You’ll see the difference when he fights tonight.”
The card began twenty minutes later, and Tara was still getting used to the raw, naked violence that occurred in the ring. Men having to be carried out by friends, others, knocked out for countless minutes. It was a brutal sport, but one, according to Sam, was more about the glory of combat and endurance, rather than the blood running down from a man’s face or the look of pain on his face when he got hit.
“Anyone who’s in the sport to hurt people should just switch over to pro wrestling. This ain’t the sport for that.” Sam said while clapping as another match ended, this one by decision; the first of the night.
Tara started to rub her head, trying to get rid of the headache that was starting up.
And then the lights went out, and everyone started screaming again. The main event was coming, and so was Justin Kelly, followed by his crew.
Kelly removed his hoodie and pants before entering the ring, giving his clothes to Stan to hold on to, while Bob handed him his mouthpiece. One of the refs put Vaseline on his face, and Bob slapped him on the back when that was done. “Get in there and whip this guy.” He shouted in Kelly’s ear.
Standing in the opposite corner, a lean-cut man clean of tattoos and any hair on his head or chin warmed up calmly, staring back at Kelly. This man was Chino. That was all Kelly knew besides the fact that this guy was a kick boxer.
Next thing he knew, the ref was shouting “Fight!” and Chino had Kelly trapped in the corner. Instantly, training came to mind, and Kelly managed to avoid taking too much punishment while getting out of the corner.
Chino’s limbs were long and skinny, like an octopus. He lashed out with a vicious kick, which Kelly ducked. He felt the screeching wind as Chino’s leg went soaring over his head. He charged forward as Chino’s momentum carried him backwards.
Kelly threw several hooks, trying to get him while his back was turned, but to no avail. Chino got facing the right direction and sent a few jabs his way to keep distance. The jabs hit hard, like a boulder to the face. Kelly stepped back.
The next four minutes was spent tossing jabs back and forth, with Kelly occasionally getting on the inside, and would hammer away at his body, but Chino was a statue that ignored his blows and would push him away. Bob was hollering at Kelly to do something, anything, and Kelly couldn’t find an opening besides the body. Chino seemed calculative, as if he was planning on going to a decision with the least amount of damage possible on his body.
Kelly wasn’t going to have that. He came forward, throwing hooks, hearing Bob shouting at him, “That’s not what we do! That’s not what we do!” and ignored him. Chino hit him as many times as he hit Chino.
But excluding this last exchange, the crowd booed when the round came to an end. Kelly didn’t bother sitting down in his corner; he was too disgusted by his performance. Ten minutes and only a few well placed shots was pathetic.
“Hey!” Bob slapped his cheek lightly. “You’ve got five minutes to look like a contender. Fight like one!”
Kelly didn’t like being slapped. Everyone knew that. The bell rang. Kelly let Bob push past him, and kept his eye on Chino, who was standing with his mouthpiece slightly out of his mouth. Whether that was a sign of fatigue or not Kelly would not guess.
The ref shouted “Fight!” And Kelly came forward once again, only to eat jabs once more.
“Kelly, do something else!” Bob could be heard throughout the entire arena, despite the noise. “He’s using his reach. Disrupt the reach!”
Kelly came forward, and this time crouched low to the ground, his head landing softly against Chino’s belly. Chino tied up with him, hitting his side with shots here and there to look busy. Kelly yanked himself out of it.
The leg came up and at his head again. Kelly ducked, but this time it clipped him, sending him off balance to scatter backwards with Chino chasing him. Chino threw several punches, none of which touched him.
Kelly knew he was going to hit the ropes and threw as many punches as he could get. The moment his back hit the plastic ropes, a right hand of his connected perfectly with Chino’s jaw, rocking the man so hard, Chino’s mouthpiece flew out of the ring entirely.
Chino’s hands dropped, but he did not. Kelly saw the ref looking at Chino to see if his mouthpiece was still in, and Kelly waited no longer. Two more punches and Chino was on the mat, still.
It didn’t matter if the tencount came, because Chino’s cornerman threw in the towel anyways. Smalls by TKO.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
A few hours after the fight was over, Stan, Kelly and Sam were sitting at Fred’s, despite the fact that the place was going to close soon.
Stan was doing most of the celebrating, but Kelly shocked everyone present when he asked Fred for a beer. Fred stared at him, Stan stared at him, and Sam stared at him. Everything was quiet for a moment.
Kelly followed the silence up with a question. “What?” he said. “I can’t-can’t-have a beer every now and then?”
“He’s become a man!” Stan declared loudly. “There is a God!” He hugged his buddy. Kelly grinned, embarrassed. Sam just laughed.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I’ll pay. It’s on me tonight. Take a good look at this man, Fred. You’re looking at a future champion.”
“Nice.” Fred didn’t care so long as someone supplied him with a bill. He put the beer down in front of Kelly. “Don’t rush it, kid. That’s the worst thing someone like you could do.”
Kelly sat back while Sam and Stan gushed on happily about the Organization, and what they were going to do when Kelly was champion. Kelly paid them no heed, opting instead to enjoy his beer. Sour-tasting it might’ve been, Kelly found that it was harmless enough to have. But one was enough. He would have no more after this one.
Everyone in Fred’s was speaking their mind aloud; Kelly couldn’t hear himself over the din of at least fifty people in the place, all jabbering over things that really didn’t matter that much. Sam and Stan had become talking machines, and the only thing that existed humanly besides Kelly was the girl that was gunning for him, coming up from the back of the place.
Fred’s daughter Kayla sauntered over to the bar where Kelly was. Her whole manner was flirtatious, the way she carried on, flirting shamelessly with him as if they’d been old friends for a long time. Kelly chose to answer in monosyllables and nod his head. Sam and Stan took part in the conversation as well.
“So Kelly, when did you start fighting?” Kayla said. “You look good right now.”
Kelly mumbled something while putting the beer to his lips. Stan answered for him. “You should see the workouts this guy does. It almost killed me.”
“Then again, you’re outta shape,” Sam elbowed him. “But they are good workouts. I do them with him every day.”
“Yeah,” Kayla was staring hard at Kelly now, and he started to shift uncomfortably on the bar stool. “I can definitely tell a difference. Keep it up, sugar.” She walked off, leaving a hand to brush up on Kelly’s leg.
“Don’t worry, Kelly, You’re safe.” Fred said as he passed by them. “If that had been Stan she touched, then Stan would be out on the street right now, lying on his back.”
Stan laughed nervously. “Hey man…I can’t help it if she’s the one coming on to me…”
Everyone laughed, and Kelly felt good. Real good. “It can only get better from here on,” he said quietly to Sam.
“Uh-huh,” Sam patted him on the shoulder. “You’re not too sore, right? Sorry.” He took his hand off immediately.
“Dude, my left side hurts the most. That kick barely did anything.”
“Then why’d you fall over, huh?” Stan was trying to instigate and argument, and he succeeded as Kelly responded.
“I didn’t f-fall over, Stan,” Kelly glared at him. “I lost my balance.”
“Oh! Oh, I see, I see,” Stan taunted him. “Sure, Kelly. Sure. You fell over, and you know it.”
“How’d I-how’d I knock him out if I was on the ground?”
Sam rolled his eyes as they continued to bicker. “Because the ref didn’t pull out a tencount on you, which he should’ve done.” Stan said smugly.
“You-you-you-you haven’t even been a fan of MMA that long!” Kelly said, exasperated.
“I know. I’m just screwing with your head.” Stan winked at him, and Kelly cursed him then. All in good fun.
“Kelly, you’re not going to like this,” Sam’s mood changed instantly. “But I have to tell you what happened when I sat down with Black again.”
Stan and Kelly both leaned forward, eager for news. “What’d he say?” Kelly spoke clearly.
“He’s not giving you the next title shot,kid.” Sam regretted saying it the moment the happiness fell from Kelly’s eyes. Stan blinked twice, as if expecting Sam to admit to a bad joke.
But Sam did not. “I’m sorry, man,” he said to Kelly. “He doesn’t feel you’re ready yet. Instead, he’s going to give you a number one contendership bout.”
Kelly nodded, taking this in slowly. “One more f-fight.” He said.
“Yeah,” Sam said empathetically. “One more fight.”
“Well, hey, why didn’t ya say that earlier before we came in here?” Stan looked ready to spit on the bar. “You got his hopes up an’ everything, and now look what you did!”
“Would you have preferred to ruin the moment earlier after he’d won?” Sam’s eyes took up fire, and he held a glare with Stan. Stan wavered, and gave in eventually. Sam sighed.
“I am sorry,” he said to Kelly. “I know it sucks. But look at it this way; one more fight, and there’s no doubt that you’ll have fought the best contenders out there. Then, if you beat Axe, you’ll know that you really are the best there is here in the Midwest.”
Kelly nodded, but Stan was still glowering. Sam stood up abruptly. “If you’re gonna be sullen over this, I think I’ll take my leave then.” He put down his tab and told Fred, “This is for Kelly’s beer as well.”
“Thanks,” Fred said. “Have a good one.”
Stan and Kelly both sat in silence for a few minutes after Sam’s departure. Finally, as if he could take no more, Stan spoke out of the blue. “Look, man, He had no right to do that to you.”
Kelly said nothing.
Stan tried anyway. “I’ve never seen somebody fight like you before. I mean, I honestly haven’t seen a ton of fights in my life anyways, but that’s not the point. What you’ve got isn’t that you hit harder than the next guy. It isn’t that you have better technique, or that you’re faster, or that you’ve got great willpower. It’s in here,” Stan slapped his own jaw. “I’ve never seen anyone take a punch like you can, man. That’s incredible. I know that if I was this champion guy, what’s his name? Axe? Yeah-” Stan’s eyes took on a glimmer as he nodded his head to some inner thought. “If I was Axe, I would be scared of you. If you can’t knock a man out, the best you can do is throw enough punches to keep him away from you. Besides that, there’s no way a man his hands of iron can stop a guy with a jaw of steel.”
Kelly nodded, but his mind really wasn’t on the conversation. Stan nudged him. “Don’t give up hope. Keep winning like you are and Axe’ll be knockin’ on your door soon.”
They stood up together, and said good bye to Fred. Kayla waved to Kelly, but Kelly acted like he didn’t see it.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Stan and Kelly were lucky four days later when they would get the same shift at night, regardless of the rainy weather Chicago was suffering. Starbuck’s at night was a silent and ominous procession of would-be writers and shady civilians wanting drinks. Kelly and Stan had both learned to just ignored these creepy or strange characters, and focus on lighter-hearted matters.
Stan got a good song stuck in his head, and started singing it quietly enough. But as the song drew on, Stan’s drama increased, and his tone got louder and louder. So bored was Kelly, he joined in with Stan.
“Hey! Knock it off!” Rich of course cut through the song from the comfort of his office. “Quit screwing around, guys! I need some real focus right now!” His door shut quietly, as Stan’s singing quieted down as well.
“I think I know what I’m going to do,” he said so suddenly, he startled Kelly. Stan winked at him, and stood up and went for the door. “Cover for me, Kelly. This is a great idea. You won’t wanna miss this.”
“Stan!” Kelly hissed. “Get-get b-b-back here!”
Stan didn’t come back. Several customers were staring at Kelly strangely, but none of them said a word. Kelly went back to work.
Just then, in burst Mel and Claudia. Mel carried an umbrella, and Claudia was giggling over something or rather. Mel dipped his head in respect to Kelly.
“So how’s the life, friend?” He asked Kelly.
Kelly shrugged. “Good.”
“Great to hear it. Claudia, what do ya want?”
Kelly got their drinks, wondering for the whole time where Stan was. If Rich came out of the office and found Kelly standing there by himself, and found Stan nowhere in sight, Stan was going to be fired. Kelly was sure of it.
Stan slipped back into the Starbuck’s an evil little smile on his face. He took his place behind the register again. “Just you wait,” He said to Kelly. “There’s gonna be fireworks.”
“Hey, boy, how come you leave Kelly to do all the work?” Mel shouted carelessly from his table with Claudia. Stan gave him a mock salute. Mel laughed aloud.
“What did you do?” Kelly whispered loudly.
Stan just smiled. “You’ll see. His ride’s never gonna be the same again.”
That indication left some unpleasant images. Kelly didn’t pursue it any more. He didn’t want to know what Stan had done; he only hoped that whatever the prank had been, Rich would take it with good humor. Though, given the way Rich was prone to fits over the slightest detail out of place, the chances of Stan getting off lightly were slim, if there was any chance at all.
Stan was whistling merrily as if nothing had happened. Time passed quickly, and soon, it was time to close. Mel had told Kelly he would see him back at the house. Kelly waved goodbye to him and Claudia. Stan had his foot planted on a stool, with his hands resting on his waist as he beamed proudly at nothing.
“Dude, this is going to make my week. Whether I get fired or not, this is gonna be awesome.” Stan said.
“If you get fired, Sam’s not-not gonna be happy.” Kelly informed him.
“Sometimes the consequences are worth it. I’ve worked here for the past year and a half. I’m tired of taking this douchebag’s sack of crap.” Stan got down off of the stool and went to the door. “All right then. I guess it’s time to pack it in.”
Rich came out, looking to be in a better mood than he had been hours ago. He looked from Kelly to Stan. “You guys got it?” he asked.
“Yeah, we got it.” Stan cracked his neck. “You’ve got a nice ride, dude. I wouldn’t trade that for anything else.”
Kelly knew that Rich’s car was merely a piece of trash Civic. What Stan’s game was, Kelly didn’t want to know. He just wanted to wrap things up and leave. Fast. Before Stan’s fireworks took off. But the chances were looking bleak.
Rich nodded. “Thank you.” He went out the door. Stan started to hoot and laugh, hitting his fists against the wall several times.
“I didn’t think he’d fall for it.” Stan said. “Wow. Boy, he’s gonna get it.”
Kelly and Stan hadn’t been standing there for more than a minute when Rich came hurling back through the doors, screaming oaths and swearing vengeance. “Which one of you did it?” he roared. “Who!”
Stan and Kelly both glanced at each other. If looks could kill, Kelly would’ve dropped Stan in a heartbeat. But unfortunately, looks never got the job done. Perks of being an average, everyday citizen of the United States of America.
“I’m looking at you, Kelly!” Rich’s voice struck like thunder, vacuuming up any slighter sounds in the room, and raising his to a level of extremity. Kelly winced. Stan kept his eyes raised, as if looking up to God for a favor.
“Answer me, Kelly! Did you do it or not!” Rich was now standing two feet away, easily quick enough to snatch a handful of Kelly’s shirt/apron, or his hair.
Stan’s face kept looking to the heavens while Kelly remained silent. But now Kelly’s eyes were fixed on Rich. They did not flinch. They held a trace of anger, something Rich had never seen before in the young man.
But Rich’s rationality was gone. He just wanted vengeance. He shook his head in disgust. “Is that the way you want to play it? Fine,” he waved Kelly away wearily. “You’re fired. Get the hell outta here, Kelly. I don’t want to see you come back here again.”
Kelly removed his apron and put it on a nearby table. He glanced at Stan, who still looked upwards, and then took a good look as he passed through the door.
He never looked back.
He never would.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Sam watched as Kelly hit the pads harder than anything he’d seen before. It had been two weeks since Kelly had been fired. The kid had hardly spoken to anyone about it.
Stan was there training as well. He hadn’t met Kelly’s eye once; every time Kelly glanced his way, Stan looked in a different direction. But when Kelly’s back was turned, Stan would look at the kid with a look of sadness on his face.
“It’s my fault,” he explained to same later. “I didn’t think he’d fire Kelly. I told him I did it two minutes after he’d fired Kelly, and he wouldn’t even listen.”
Sam sighed. “Great. He’s got a fight coming up real soon here. A week from now. Any chance you can patch things up with your boss?”
“I doubt it. The freakin’ Canadian thinks he’s better than anyone alive. He never admits when he’s made a mistake.” Stan wiped sweat off of his face. His shaven head gleamed with the stuff. And more of it just kept coming. “I didn’t mean to get Kelly fired, man. It was just for fun.”
“Maybe you’d better talk with him, you know, get through this together?” Sam motioned at Kelly, who was charging Brady into a corner during their sparring session. Brady covered up, but Kelly didn’t let up until Bob called “Time!” Brady looked more than just a little grateful to be alive.
Kelly sat down, and Bob announced that today was a break from cardio. “Get some in tonight.” He told Kelly. Kelly nodded his head, but it was obvious he wasn’t really listening to Bob.
Sam urged Stan on, and Stan went over to Kelly and sat down next to him. “How you holdin’ up over the job?”
Kelly shrugged, still breathing hard. “All right, I guess.” He said.
“You sure about that man? I mean, I’ve tried to get Rich to understand that it was my fault, but he wouldn’t listen to a word I said.”
“Yeah,” Kelly said absent-mindedly. “I know. Rich is just like that.”
“No hard feelings man. I’ll see if maybe I can talk him into letting you come back, but honestly? I’ve known the guy a lot longer than you have; I’ve put up with him for a long time. Truth is, he’ll probably remember how great you were and call you later wanting you back.” Stan glanced at Sam. Sam’s back was to the both of them, acting as if he wasn’t even listening.
Kelly grunted. “I don’t want the job.”
Stan thought for a moment that he had gone deaf. “What did you say, dude?” he asked carefully.
Kelly repeated himself. “I said I don’t want the job. I’m done with Starbuck’s. It’s fine; it was messing with my head having to work there anyways.”
Stan licked his lips, unsure of what to say after that. He finally ended up saying, while putting a hand on Kelly’s shoulder as they both got up, “Well, whatever you decided, don’t dwell on it too hard. I am sorry.”
“I know,” Kelly held out a hand, surprising Stan. “It’s-it’s nothing personal.”
They shook hands, and Stan felt a large wave of relief roll into him. He smiled at Sam, who just nodded.
“Hey, Kelly, you wanna do cardio together tonight?” Sam asked Kelly as he was passing by.
Kelly shook his head. “N-no thanks. Tonight I’ll do it on my own.”
“All right. See you later then.” Sam slapped him on the shoulder. He waited until Kelly left for the showers, and then grabbed Stan. “Well?” he said.
“Well, he seems fine.” Stan shrugged. “Don’t know what else to say. Looks like he’s not bothered by it.”
“Good,” Sam released Sam. “Good. This came at the worst possible time. Dude, please don’t do anything that’s gonna get him unfocused again, all right? Please?” he begged Stan with his eyes. “He needs the focus right now. I don’t know how else to emphasize it; he’s having a number one contender match real soon here. He can’t afford to be distracted right now. If he loses this, I have no idea how far it could set him back.”
“Okay, okay!” Stan snorted. “Don’t need to tear my head off. It was my fault, I know. It was a joke.”
“Somehow, your jokes always go sour,” Sam said. “Next time use your head before you do something stupid like that. You could’ve been fired too. We got bills to pay, and I’m not gonna be the only guy with a job in the apartment.”
“Dude,” Stan was starting to get defensive, which meant he would get belligerent. “Rich takes things too seriously. And I still have a job, last time I looked. Back off.”
They were toe to toe, for a moment. Sam was shorter than Stan, but the fire was still there. The intensity in their bodies was on two different levels, with Stan’s level being inferior to Sam’s by quite a bit. Eventually, it was Stan who backed down. “Look,” he said. “I’m not gonna keep apologizing to everybody. It happened. Kelly lost his job. He’s not pissed off or crying about it. He’s as unconcerned as you can get. Will you just leave it be? Seriously, man, why do you care so much for how he does anyway?”
Sam wasn’t going to answer, and Stan knew that. But as Sam headed for the locker room, Stan pestered his quarry. “I mean, we both know you’re a better fighter than Kelly. You could be a fighter too! Why haven’t you done anything since your amateur stuff, huh?”
Sam whipped around so fast it looked like he was readying to throw a punch. Stan certainly thought so; he put up his fists in defense.
But Sam didn’t throw. He just looked at his friend sadly. “Do you really think I’m better than Kelly is?”
“Yeah, man. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kelly’s awesome, but you’re way better than he is. It’s obvious when you two spar who’s better. Why can’t you just admit it? He’s just got power. That’s it.”
“If you think I’m better,” Sam said after a moment. “Then you haven’t been watching Kelly lately. He’s getting better; and he’s only going to improve. I’m faster, yeah. Maybe more technical as well. But Kelly’s learning to utilize his power and his style of charging into somebody correctly. Didn’t you see how he had me cornered in there?” Sam pointed towards the corner where he and Kelly had been sparring.
Stan was at a loss for words.
Sam took this as a sign. “Dude. As grateful as I am that you would compliment me as a fighter, I care about Kelly because he’s way better than me. And it’s not just that; this is what makes him happy. You’ve seen him outside of the ring. Maybe sometimes he’s happy, but not most of the time, am I right?” Sam knew he was. “Fighting makes him happy. It makes him feel like a warrior.”
Stan nodded. “Thanks for the support,” Sam said. “But help me give Kelly support. Maybe someday, I will fight again. But not while Kelly’s not champion. After that? Well,” Sam paused, thoughtful. “We’ll see.” He said.
“I hear you. Let’s hope he wins this next fight quick, then.” Stan grunted.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
In the darkness, Kelly was sprinting between the blocks, dodging street lights and the occasional civilian walking down the street.
In the dark, everything seemed closer, more outlined. Kelly could count the cracks in the sidewalk. He could see the city extend onwards and ever onwards. He could breathe in the cold air and feel truly alive.
No matter how bad the pain was in his chest, no matter how hard it was to breathe, Kelly never stopped. He wanted to sprint to the end of the block, and see Axe standing on the corner, waiting for him, so that they could fight.
But even Kelly knew that he couldn’t last forever. He knew that he had overdone it when he was limping home, and his knees were screaming, and the rest of his legs felt like chunks of lead. Kelly gasped for air like he was being strangled. People passing by stared at him strangely, freaked out, perhaps. Kelly was dressed in sweats, and his sweats were covered with sweat. He could barely see anything; the sweat got into his eyes every single moment he opened them.
He wiped his face several times, trying to control his breathing, and get back to the apartment without passing out. Every time he put down his right foot, a flame within burned his muscles. He winced. It hurt to overwork, but the pain would be worth it.
Hopefully.
He arrived finally at the apartment, and hour later. He hadn’t realized how far away he’d been running, or how far his sprints from block to block would take him. He let out a pent-up laugh, and limped his way up to the door, only to notice an extra car parked outside of the building. One he recognized.
It was a red Miata. Tara Fields was in the house. Kelly felt a simple little seed open wide in his heart as he made his way up the long stairs, to the fourth floor, where his home was. As he slowly made the journey, the seed within started to sprout, and the nervousness poured forth. He hadn’t spoken to her since they had been on the pier. That had been a few weeks ago.
The door opened easily enough, and laughter came from the inside, as if Kelly was being beckoned. He entered timidly, looking around, trying to see if he had a clear run to his room where he could take a shower and at least attempt to look civil.
But there was no such luck as he spotted Claudia and Tara both sitting on the couch in the living room. So much for the plan. Kelly smiled politely as Claudia hailed him.
“Hey, look who’s home!” She waved him over.
Kelly was still looking around the apartment as he said “Where’s M-Mel at?”
“He’s out for the night. Which means it’s girl’s night in.” Claudia said. “What’s the matter? You look horrible.”
Kelly supposed then that given the way his legs were rubber and shaking, and his hands were trembling and he was covered in sweats which were covered in sweat and he looked physically exhausted, it was no surprise she commented on his looks. “I was working out.” He said simply enough. Give the people what they want.
“Cool. How’s training going?” This was Tara asking now. Kelly directed his attention to her, although his seed was begging for him to just dive into the room and get in the shower. He had to look ugly to her at the moment.
“G-good en-enough.” He said. “How are you?”
“I’m great, thank you,” those eyes sparkled, and Kelly felt whatever negativity within wither away very quickly then. It was impossible to feel ugly or rejected with Tara’s eyes giving him that look, oh so tender, so beautiful. And while he glanced down, to avoid those eyes, to hide his embarrassment, he noticed the scars on his forearms. A finger of his ran across his neck, feeling a carelessly done scar done out of rage years ago.
And then he said, “I’d better get in the shower. Will you excuse me?” he hardly dared to believe it that he hadn’t stuttered through the speech.
The shower was brutal; the drops from the spigot pounded his skin, giving him no comfort at all. He ran a bar of soap over his pale body, trying not to think about the multitudes of memories that ran across his skin, shrines to his pain and anger, and his loss. He didn’t want Tara to see them. Ever. But he knew that was unavoidable, seeing as that they were on his neck, and one was on the lower-left part of his jaw.
He ran out of stalling time and finally got out after twenty minutes had passed. Putting on a collared shirt, he debated popping the collars to shield his neck. He pulled out the sleeves, effectively covering his arms. He forwent shaving, having no care about how rugged he looked. At least it drew attention away from that little spot on his jaw.
He came out like a jack in the box done in, completely lackluster. Kelly sat down on the couch just as Claudia said she was getting up to take a shower of her own, and then apparently she and Tara would depart for whatever they were planning on doing.
Tara was still drilling him with her stare. Kelly didn’t look. Almost turned on the television, but couldn’t find the remote to do so. He cursed inwardly. “See something you like?” he asked it very casually, but it took him a full moment to realize what he had said without stuttering. He then felt something punch him in the stomach internally, and he cursed inside again.
“What?” Tara burst out laughing, surprised. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to put you off. Here.” She turned to look at something else. “You don’t have to keep the collars up. That’s all I was going to say. It looks funny on you.”
Kelly wanted then to tell her what looked funny on her. But a single glance at her beauty reminded him that there was no flaw with this one unless it was the flaw of humanity, the sinful inward core of a soul.
She sat there for a minute, and then, as if she couldn’t handle it anymore, she reached over. “Here,” she said again, and without Kelly’s permission yanked the collars down forcibly. Kelly had no time to react, and was startled when she did it. The scars showed themselves easily in the light.
Tara said nothing about them. She chose to talk about his being fired, and if he was planning on finding another job or something. Kelly told her no, that he wasn’t planning on it. He was going to focus on training.
“That’s impressive that you’re committing to this,” She said. “Not even Sam can do what you’ve done. He’s admitted to me already that you’re a hero in his eyes.”
“He’s just trying to-to make me sound better.” Kelly found that often Tara saw Sam, and he didn’t know what to think. Was Kelly intruding on something personal? Was he getting mixed signals, or was it his own fault, like usual?
“You know, you need to stop shooting yourself down,” Tara was looking at him this time, and she was looking at him with a pocketful of intensity. Kelly could endure the stare for only so long before he escaped her clutches by standing up and sitting by the table.
He didn’t expect Tara to join him at the table then. “What is it about me that makes you so uncomfortable?” It was a quiet one, and it hurt far worse than if she had screamed it. Kelly didn’t meet her eyes.
“Why do you find me so fascin-fasc-fasc-” he halted abruptly, and tried again. “So fascinating?”
“It’s not that I feel sorry for you.” Tara said. “I like you. You’re a good guy. You’re nice. You’re respectful. And I can see it in you; you’re passionate. It may not seem like it to the others, but on the inside you’re almost an artist in disguise, trying to mask it behind the fighting.”
Ouch. She’d hit another mark. Score was dos-nil.
“What do you want!” Kelly’s voice rose, and he realized he’d gone too far. Claudia came into the room, having heard as well.
“Everything okay in here?” She asked casually.
“We’re fine,” Tara said in a voice filled with complete calm. Kelly was baffled at her apparent demeanor.
“Great, great. Listen, I’ll go get the car started. Meet you out there?” Claudia came over and hugged Kelly. “See you later tonight. If Mel comes home before we do, let him know we’re at the movies, all right?”
“Will d-do.” The final goal scored against Justin Kelly that night was in, and the crowd went wild in Kelly’s head. Tara gloated, teasing him with her eyes as the door shut.
“Haven’t been hugged like that in a while, huh?”
She had no idea. “I think you’d better go.” Kelly stood up, going to the couch. “I’m gonna get some sleep.”
“On the couch? What’s wrong with your room?” Tara laughed.
Truth was, Kelly just didn’t want her needling him anymore. She knew him too well, and was dissecting him far too quickly.
“My bed’s made. I’m just taking a nap.” He didn’t care if she figured it out for herself or what. He just wanted peace and time to himself.
“Okay,” Tara smiled sweetly. “See you around, Justin.”
The door shut, and Kelly never thought that he would hear such a wonderful tone in his life at the moment. He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Phone rang. Kelly picked it up. “Hello?”
“We got your opponent,” Black’s voice came over the line. “He’s an undefeated guy, pretty fresh. His name’s Castillo.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Bob stood next to Sam as they watched the weigh-ins for the Light-Heavyweight contender matchup that would be happening that very next day.
Castillo was large; larger than Kelly by far. Although most of Kelly’s opponents were bigger, none of them could compare to Castillo, who looked like he’d had to cut at least forty pounds to make the weight. It was a startling contrast to the Castillo they had seen in the gym trying to tear Kelly’s head off a month ago.
“Look at him,” Sam exclaimed. “How’s he managing to make the weight?”
“Some guys happen to be really good at cutting the weight properly.” Bob said. “Either that, or hopfully, he’s gonna be as weak as a kitten just born when he gets in the ring with Smalls.”
The doctor performing the weigh-ins called out Castillo’s weight. “Two hundred five and a half!” the crowd erupted as Castillo’s arms went up in triumph, and he smirked for the crowd. He went over to the far side of the room.
“C’mon,” Bob nudged Sam. He went to tap Kelly on the shoulder, who was listening to an Ipod, trying to block everything out. “Smalls,” Bob said to get his attention. “Time to hit the scale.”
Smalls went before them all as he was announced to the crowd. Crowd favorite by very little, however. The crowd was eating this Castillo guy up. Castillo had personally announced in a press conference two days ago that he was predicting a first round knockout. “He’s never been stopped. I’m going to put him out of commission for good.” Castillo’s promises were going to be like sand going through the sieve when Kelly landed a true punch on him
“Two hundred five!” Smalls didn’t bring up a pose or anything when the doctor called his weight out. The crowd cheered, but his mind was not on them.
Castillo was standing at the edge of the room, waiting. Just waiting. Smalls obliged him, not even waiting to put his clothes back on. Their foreheads butted as they faced off, much to the delight of the crowds and the Organization’s president Mr. Black, who was standing nearby, ready to break them apart should something happen.
But nothing did. Castillo, despite his trash talk, was a real competitor at heart at least. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed Kelly’s eyes with his own. Smalls said nothing either; they just wanted to battle it out in the ring, where the real field of battle lay.
“Okay, that’s good.” Black got between them, and Castillo blew a kiss to Smalls.
Smalls ignored it. Sam put and arm around him. “Let’s get you eating. You gotta get some rest tonight.”
But for that night, there was no rest for Kelly. He remained awake, always contemplating what he was going to do to Castillo in the ring. It took both Bob and Sam to calm him down and force him into the bed.
Fight Night.
That wonderful gathering that happened every now and then, that drew men away from their jobs, and high schoolers with cash or balls to sneak in away from their education. That glorious war that went on for three whole hours, and never stopped. It was a movement in the hearts of those gathered to watch, and it sizzled in the air like electricity.
Tara Fields sat once again with Sam, this time next to the judges table. Sam was trembling slightly. Tara noticed this. “You nervous for him?” she asked.
“Of course. This is huge. I can’t wait to see him walk in there, knock this guy out, and then walk out.”
Tara knew there was more to it than that. She could see it in Sam’s eyes, the way he was acting. He was worried all right, and not bothering to think about it. His confidence in Kelly had nothing to do with it.
Smalls and Castillo were both in the ring, and the announcer was going through the details of the fighters’ profiles: Smalls, twenty-six wins, nine losses. Castillo, eight wins, no losses. Castillo was shouting something across the ring. Smalls took no note of it.
It was in this moment, in a sudden panic and worry for the friend she knew, Tara reached out for comfort. That comfort was Sam’s hand, warm and sweaty. Sam didn’t act like he cared. He was far too concentrated on the fight that was going to unfold in front of him.
“He’s just a boxer, okay? Just like you!” Bob was shouting to Kelly. “He’s nothing more! He’s a rookie, and you should put him down like one!”
The ref stepped into the middle. “You ready?” he pointed at both fighters. “Go!” Kelly took the center of the ring, like always.
Castillo went to bounce around him, a spring in his step, and a jab faster than lightning came several times at Kelly, hitting him easily. The jab did not hurt, but Kelly could sense that Castillo wasn’t throwing power just yet.
Neither would Kelly. Kelly let Castillo lead him around the ring for a minute, trading jabs and straights back and forth, until Kelly caught him in the corner. Castillo tried to dance out, but Kelly clinched, effectively blocking him.
Castillo tried to outmuscle him, then. And it worked; Kelly’s strength was nothing compared to Castillo’s. After Kelly landed a few knees Castillo had escaped the corner, and was dancing around again, throwing a low kick to Kelly’s knee every now and then, just to keep him on his toes.
Kelly abandoned his plan then; he went right at Castillo, throwing hooks like it was his last day on earth. Castillo dodged most of them, but landed an uppercut on Kelly’s chin, sending Kelly backwards, stunned.
Tara almost leapt up, still hand-in-hand with Sam. Sam did get up, and shouted with his free hand. “Smalls! Don’t fall for it! Don’t let him play you like that!” but it was obvious Kelly wasn’t listening at all. He wanted to hurt this guy, but wasn’t going at it the way he should have been doing.
Castillo landed several more hard blows on Kelly’s chin, testing him. The crowd was wild, unbelieving that a rookie was handing Smalls so much punishment. But Small was a warrior, and they had to recognize Kelly’s talent to remain strong.
Kelly threw a jab, which caught Castillo momentarily, and Kelly dived in, trying to finish him off. Castillo’s knee came out of nowhere, and landed perfectly on the chin, as if in a movie.
The White Light came, and Kelly was rocked. Worse than the last time, in fact. Castillo threw twice more, but Kelly hit him as well, rocking Castillo. Both stood in the center in the ring, trading punches, trying to kill each other, and the whole arena ate it up, loving every moment of it.
Until a blow struck Kelly between the eyes, and He staggered backwards. He saw Castillo throw a high kick, towards Kelly’s waist. He brought his arms up to block the kick, only to realize that it wasn’t aiming for his side, but for his head.
The world detached itself as soon as the kick hit, and nothing made sense to Kelly. And then all went black.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
When it happened, Sam and Tara were both on their feet in a flash. Tara screamed, and put her hand to her mouth, smothering it.
Stan swore viciously, standing next to Bob. Bob’s eyes squeezed shut tightly, no doubt knowing what was going to happen.
Kelly did not move. Even when the tencount was done, he was still. The moment the ref hit ten, he reached over and grabbed Castillo’s hand and declared him the winner.
Castillo’s corner went wild. They surrounded him with cheers and hoisted him on their shoulders, while the man of the hour himself was still screaming hoarsely. What he said, Sam couldn’t hear, and didn’t want to hear. His eyes were still on his friend, who lay motionless on the ground.
Bob and Stan burst into the ring, followed by the ringside doctor. After a few moments, Sam couldn’t bear it. He let go of Tara’s hand. “I’ll be back.” He promised as he leapt over the guardrail, heading towards the ring. But he didn’t make it. Security stopped him short, forcing him to return to his seat. “I’m his manager!” Sam tried to argue. “That’s my friend in there!”
“You’ll have to wait.” The guard said stubbornly. “Get back in your seat, sir.”
For the first time in years, Tara head Sam drop the F bomb. He hung his head in despair as he climbed his way back to his seat, wading through dissenters cursing him as well.
Tara’s eyes remained on Kelly. Suddenly, on instinct, she shut her eyes, bowed her head, and Sam heard her say “Jesus, please let him be all right…please bless him, Lord, and help him recover quickly, in Jesus’ name.”
Sam bit his lip so hard it started to bleed.
Stan was cursing again and again, beating himself up. “Oh my God. Sweet Jesus, how can a guy take a hit like that? He can’t. He just can’t. What can we do? What’re you gonna do doc?” so panicked was he, Bob sent him away, told him to go sit down.
Bob turned just in time back to Kelly to find his young friend’s eyes pop open. They were glazed, but they weren’t twitching. Kelly’s eyes moved steadily around in a circle, as if taking note of everything. His hand moved swiftly, pushing down on the canvas, propping himself up, forcing himself to sit up. The doctor immediately told him to take it easy. Kelly ignored him. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention to the doctor, who was asking him what the date was. Kelly’s eyes were on Bob as he asked Bob the one question you never ask if you want the doctor to leave you alone.
“What just happened?”
So relieved was he to see Kelly awake, Bob pulled him into a light hug. “You got knocked out.” He said softly. “I’m sorry. Here, the doctor’s trying to speak to you.”
Kelly glanced at the doctor, and then without a word, got up to his feet. The doctor followed, still desperate for Kelly’s attention. “Son, please, answer me.”
Kelly pushed him away. “Leave me be.” He shouted. “I’m fine.”
The doctor persisted, and Kelly hustled out of ring, ignoring everyone around him. Bob pursued him along with the doctor. The crowd was cheering Castillo’s name.
It was more than Kelly could bear at the time. He tried not to listen, and he refused to believe that he’d been knocked out. But he knew it was truth. And the truth hurt the most.
Sam finally managed to convince the guard to let him through, and he grabbed Kelly’s arm. “C’mon kid,” he said. “Let’s get you into the locker room-”
Kelly shoved him as well. “Go away.”
Sam stood dumbfounded. Bob touched his back. “Let him be for now. He’s upset. This has never happened to him before. This is how it is when a man gets knocked out for his first time.” Bob was gritting his teeth. Sam felt the same.
Stan joined them and the doctor as they made a small procession of gloom towards the locker room. Castillo was still in the ring, being interviewed. Sam halted to hear what the man was saying.
“Ain’t nobody here got a chin that can’t be broken,” Castillo was saying in a high, raspy voice. “And this kid is no different from all the other bums I’ve fought. Where you at, Axe? I’m waitin’ for you!” the crowd screamed their support, and Sam cursed Castillo again.
The night ahead was going to be painful. Sam could only imagine how Kelly was taking it.
Kelly, the man who once prided himself on being Smalls, felt no longer like Smalls.
It was a subtle change, and after the doctor finally left, and the others let him finally take a shower, it sunk into him like the pellets of water did, running down his body, that he was no longer Smalls. Smalls was invincible, more of a myth rather than a fighter. Smalls was the man who couldn’t be knocked out. The man who brought it every time he fought. The man who represented the Rocky Marciano of MMA.
And in one fight, in a matter of moments, Smalls was killed. Kelly had killed Smalls off, with some assistance from Castillo.
As soon as it entered his sore and weary body, he lost it. Completely for the first time in years, Kelly broke down. He was alone in the locker room, and so he let the tears run unchecked down his face. He shook miserably, and his gasps became sobs eventually.
For a whole ten minutes, he just let the grief hold him like a cradle. So close. So close to achieving success. So close to winning something for a change. Not just a fight. A championship. A post as the best of the best.
And with a single blow, it was all gone. Kelly couldn’t believe it. He stood up and hit the walls with his fists. He yelled. Yelled loudly without a care for who heard and who didn’t. He hit the wall until his hands were raw and pulsing with pain, similar to the way his head hurt after the kick.
Finally exhausted, Kelly dropped to his knees, his emotion swallowing him whole. He wanted to die. What was the point? He lost. Again, he had lost. But this was no mere loss. This was it. His one opportunity at achieving true stature and he had blown it. He hadn’t gone in there with the heart necessary to win, and lost because of it.
And now, with Smalls dead and Kelly wanting to be dead, he sunk to the ground, wanting no part of an afterparty or friends comforting him. He just wanted to be alone. Alone like he had been before, before Sam had met him. Those days he had never had expectations, and he had never cared.
And now look at what had happened to him.
The door opened, and Bob came in alone. Kelly didn’t even bother to get up and attempt to look like he wasn’t distressed. Bob sat down across from his swooned position, saying nothing at first. Kelly spoke when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“I shouldn’t have traded,” he said. “I shoulda just l-let him come to me. Could’ve countered him all night long.”
“He knew that you were the type to come out and swing.” Bob agreed. “But it’s over now. The past is the past. You were knocked out. This is a risk that comes with fighting, Kelly. You have to accept that.”
Kelly sat up, his face still swollen and the tears still evident. He didn’t care if Bob saw them now. “So what now? What do we do?”
“You are going to go home and get some rest,” Bob stood up, holding out a hand to help him up. Kelly obliged, and Bob pulled him into another hug. “And then you’re going to get back into title contention. This was just a bump in the map. When your father lost his first wrestling match, he cried too. But look at what he did that very next year; he took sixth in the state. And then the next two years he was state champion. Nothing comes easy the first time, Kelly.”
Kelly agreed, but as he and Bob left the locker room, he gave one last parting shot to the only man left of what Kelly considered to be his family.
“I’m not my father,” he said gloomily. “I’m not even Smalls anymore.”
Bob smiled. “Then you’re Justin Kelly. Justin Kelly gets up after he falls, every time. Smalls never could.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
A full month passed after that fateful night Castillo cast Smalls down. Kelly had recovered fully, and hit training like he had never hit it before. Sam couldn’t even withstand him for more than a full round in sparring anymore. Kelly’s tenacity was unstoppable, just like his image as he attacked whatever was in front of him. He was a lion awakened.
Stan had been coming in regularly for training, and even he was pushing himself then. Everyone in the group had improved drastically since Kelly’s loss. Sam even went far enough to claim that the loss had been the best thing to happen to Kelly. Kelly did not share in his unyielding belief, but did agree that he was now hungry again. Hungry enough to tear through whoever was going to be facing him sometime soon.
One day, during training, Bob decided to declare a day full of sparring for extended periods of time. Kelly went at it, facing everyone from Brady to Sam easily.
The timer was set for three whole minutes per round, and Brady, Sam, and Mark switched out for each other so that Kelly always had a fresh partner. Each time one of them came at him, he remained focused, calm and in control, firing at will from the pocket, forcing the other man he was facing to make a mistake and receive a punch in return for it. Eventually, Bob realized that none of the other guys could handle Kelly anymore, and Bob called in a professional, low-time kickboxer to aid Kelly. A man by the name of Andre Berst, a taller, stronger version of Sam. But all Kelly could see in his eyes was Castillo, and that made the job easier.
At first, Berst did not make the job easy; he fired away using range and distance to keep Kelly at bay. But after a few rounds of this, Kelly refused to play his game and clinched with a fury so powerful it sent both men tumbling against the ground, with Kelly on top.
“Time! Get up and start over!” Bob commanded.
They did so, and Kelly blitzed Berst once again. Andre did his best and made Kelly pay for it, but Kelly hardly felt the punches and slammed into Berst again. This time, they struck the wall, and Kelly his head.
The next few seconds, Kelly’s vision was blury. The doctor had told him to rest for a few months, but Kelly hadn’t paid him any heed. The knockout was still lingering in his head like a bad dream, but now it had no true effect on him. He just wanted Castillo again. A rematch in which Kelly would not be afraid of size or strength.
Andre set out to throw kicks. An image of Castillo flashed into Kelly’s head, and Kelly caught Berst’s leg and flung him to the ground, earning a rebuke from Bob.
“Kelly, this ain’t wrestling!”
Andre got back up only to have Kelly tackle him again, and they hit the wall, knocking the breath out of Andre, who gasped loudly, surprised at Kelly’s fury.
“Time!” Andre Berst looked relieved. Kelly looked frustrated. He removed his wraps, and flung them off towards a wall, and went to the showers without a word.
“You think he’s gonna be all right?” Sam inquired.
Bob nodded. “Yeah, he looks fine. Looks like a killer.”
“That’s not necessarily a great thing.” Stan sat down on a bench.
Bob shook his head when he heard Stan speak. “This is coming from the rook, who didn’t know about mixed martial arts not too long ago. Speak only when spoken to, rook.”
“Thanks, sarge. I’ll remember to do that.” Stan was being sarcastic, and nobody paid him any attention. Sam smiled a little.
“I wonder who they’ll put in front of Kelly now, another contender, you think?”
Bob shook his head again. “Nah. I don’t know what they’ll do. He was just a quick sensation, and I doubt that they’d honor him that greatly.”
Sam sighed. “Well let’s hope God has mercy and pits him against somebody everyone knows then. That’s all we can hope for.”
Bob agreed to that, and Stan just laughed aloud. “Man, if God’s on our side, then maybe I’ll win the lottery someday.”
Sam frowned. “Why don’t you first concentrate on that girl of yours instead, huh?” this shut Stan up, and Sam received a glare for it.
“Don’t rag on God, boy,” Bob assisted. “He’s far greater than you could understand. It’s not our place to complain about anything that happens to us. It sure ain’t God’s fault.”
“Whose fault is it then?” Stan challenged.
Bob smirked. “Luck. Pure and simple luck.”
“Right, Bob. Right.”
“Believe me or not,” Bob said. “But you’d be surprised otherwise.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Tara Fields met Kelly once again, this time opting to go for a walk downtown during the afternoon. Since Tara had no class for the day, and Kelly was unemployed, the idea seemed like a good one.
Spring had come, and both were dressed for the occasion, with Kelly in dark shorts, and Tara wearing jeans and a casual tee shirt. Her hair was tied back. Kelly hadn’t shaved in weeks, and his face with a beard was an astonishing contrast to the soft look he had without the beard. It was funny to Tara. She called him a mountain man.
Being with Tara felt good for Kelly. It took his mind off of the loss, and made him feel normal again. Although ‘normal’ for Kelly was subject to translation, Kelly felt like he was in a decent mood with her at the time, and Tara was her usual, happy self. She always seemed to be happy.
They spent all day ambling through Chicago’s downtown scene, going into shops Tara liked. Kelly was uncomfortable at first, and bored, but Tara made the experience fun with comments like, “Does this look good on me?”
And then, when it was his turn to pick a place to go to, Kelly chose to go to into a sports store and look at MMA gear. MMA had blown up over the last couple of years; Kelly usually felt proud to inform people that he was a fighter, if they asked about it.
But after Castillo, Kelly really didn’t want to talk about it. Even when a kid in the sports store approached him, Kelly didn’t want to talk. But the kid was there, and Tara nudged him into talking.
“You’re Smalls, aren’t you?” The kid began. His eyes widened considerably when Kelly nodded.
“Oh man, I knew it!” He began to jabber quickly. “I saw you fight Cage, man. You destroyed that guy. Why haven’t you been given a title shot yet?”
That last question left a smear on the conversation, and a smoldering look in Kelly’s eyes. “I just lost.” Kelly said blankly.
“Really? Man, that’s a shame. Don’t give up, man. I can’t wait to see you come back and take the title from Axe!” The kid paused for a moment, deliberating. “Hey, do you mind if I get an-”
“I don’t mind.” Kelly cut him off, and stepped towards him. “What did you w-want, autograph or picture?”
“Just and autograph.” The kid motioned to the shirt he was wearing. It proudly stated the Organization on it, ‘Warrior Championship.’
Kelly signed the shirt, and the kid thanked him several times. “Can’t wait ‘til I’m eighteen. I’ll be old enough to compete. I train in jiu-jitsu and stuff. Don’t you do that? I mean, you aren’t gonna just do stand up fighting forever are you?”
Kelly confessed he hadn’t really thought about it. Meanwhile, Tara was watching the entire time with a wide smile on her face.
“That was fun,” Tara said later. “Didn’t know you had a following of fans.”
“I didn’t know either,” Kelly said. “Smalls is a hero to the fans, I guess. I didn’t think they would recognize me outside of the Organization though.”
Tara smirked playfully. “Guess you were wrong, huh?”
“Guess I was.”
The evening was starting to hail, and the sky had turned a pleasant orange, with a touch of deft red. The cloudless sky appealed to Kelly and Tara both, and they stood on a sidewalk that was not crowded near Tara’s car, admiring the view. Kelly wasn’t just admiring the sky; he was stealing glances of Tara whenever he could, without her seeing him. At least that was what he thought. He just couldn’t help himself. She was standing so close, and yet they weren’t touching at all…
It was almost as if there was a layer of ice between them. Or glass. Or something that was harder than Kelly’s fists.
Tara finally caught him staring. She arched an eyebrow. “See something you like?”
Ouch. She was mimicking him; Kelly was aware of that. He blushed and went back to the sky. His lips tightened, and his breathing became short. His heart started to pounded. It was difficult to say anything, but Kelly managed to finally say in a soft tone, “Y-yes…”
Tara beamed at him. But she didn’t say anything about it. Kelly felt relieved almost. He honestly hadn’t known what she would say. Better that things were left unsaid.
Or were they? Kelly felt an urge then, to put his arm around her. He didn’t; deadened the limbs attached to his body so that they wouldn’t listen to the urges from his brain.
Tara was turning to leave. “I’d better get going. It was nice seeing you again, Kelly.” She turned back though, as if an afterthought occurred to her. She then said “I’m happy to see that you’re doing a lot better. It’s good to see that you’re all right. I was praying that you’d come through all right.”
She didn’t really know that Kelly wasn’t all right. He’d lost. That was never okay. But it was all right for the moment; if Kelly could just unloosen the limbs and let his brain and his heart take over for him, he could be happy. He could hold her, and maybe kiss her. He had never thought of that before; the idea excited him.
Tara was just starting to open the car door when Kelly’s mind snapped up and away from his nerves. He reached out, and his hands gently caught her at the waist, stopping her motion, and he pulled her towards him. Tara was startled as he did so, and she looked ready to demand an explanation.
But Kelly gave her no chance. He hadn’t ever kissed a girl before, unless one considered kissing your sister-in-law’s cheek counted. Kelly tried anyways. Her lips were warm and soft, and he wasn’t so sure where to go from there, but he followed his heart, hoping that his instincts were right for a change.
Once he had pulled back, Tara’s face held a trace of shock. Kelly tried again, and this time, Tara blocked him, putting a hand on his chest, and separating them entirely.
Uh-oh. Now he’d done it. Kelly didn’t even know what to say. He felt awkward, a little kid caught red-handed trying to steal the cookies from the jar. He moved his lips, but nothing came out.
Uh-oh. Oh no, indeed, this was no good.
Tara didn’t look pissed. But she wasn’t exactly delighted. “Justin,” she said after a full moment of staring in between them. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
What could he say? He loved her? That would’ve been a start, if Kelly could speak. Which he couldn’t. He shrugged helplessly.
Tara smiled sadly. “I don’t know.” She said honestly. “I don’t know you that well, kiddo. I think you’re just troubled right now. You need to get some things off of your chest. And I think you’re looking in the wrong places for consolation.” She tapped herself for emphasis. “It’s not me you want.”
What? Kelly hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this was not it. This was not how he envisioned it at all. “What are you talking about?” his voice came back strong, clear, without a stutter to it. The Kelly of old, the rejected one, the angry one, was arising for the first time in years. Tara had never seen Angry Kelly before. She was in for a treat.
“You’re lost, Justin.” She came forward, but not the way he thought she would. She put a hand on his chest. “You’re lacking God. I don’t know how you were raised, but I can tell you have scars from the past that are unresolved.”
“What tipped you off, my skin?” He yanked his shirt off in a manner of desperation. “Look at me!” his voice boomed across the street, and several bystanders watched with interest.
Tara didn’t look. She was looking at his eyes, her eyes getting sadder by the moment. Kelly didn’t care; he was in anger mode, and nothing could stop him now.
“I’m a walking pincushion! You think I haven’t seen the way people look at me? I’m a freakshow, and I know that!” he hissed. “But I’ve gotten over that. Yeah, t-that’s right. I’ve gotten over that a long t-time ago. And now, all I’ve wanted was be with you, and you just wanna push me away? After all the t-times I’ve respected you and t-treated you right?”
“It’s not like that…” she tried to avoid the onslaught. A nice attempt, but if failed.
“Then what is it like, Tara? Help me out here!” He didn’t realize how loud he was being until he saw people staring their way. He lowered his voice. “Truth is, I’ve wanted you since I first met you,” he said. “T-there. I’ve said my piece. You can go now.”
“Justin…” He didn’t listen, he didn’t want to. Rejection was the one thing that Kelly always felt push a button in his soul. Anger was the only way to deal with.
“Justin, please, understand, I like you!” She said. “But you completely misunderstood! I need time to think about all of this, okay? I need to pray about it.”
“Fine,” Kelly shrugged it off. “You go ahead and pray about it. Fine God you’ve got, Tara. Too bad He doesn’t care about the little people in the world, the misfits like me, who need help the most. He’s cool with people who are successful and rich.”
“How can you say that, when He’s blessed you?” Tara was now in tears. “I have to go; I need to pray about this. I suggest you think about what you’ve said.”
She drove off then, and Kelly let her go. He flung his shirt to the ground and left it as he stormed along, not sure of what he had said that had done him in, but knowing very well that whatever he had said, it had just ruined whatever friendship he had with Tara Fields entirely.
“Born alone, stand alone, die alone,” he muttered his mantra as he walked.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Hours later, he would be at Fred’s alone, by himself for the first time ever. Fred didn’t believe it when Kelly requested a beer. Fred even laughed at first, until Kelly glared at him fiercely. Humbled by his glare, Fred asked him what he wanted.
“Surprise me. I don’t know anything about beer; just give me your hard stuff.” Kelly sighed.
Fred handed him a Jack Daniels. Kelly drank it down quickly. Demanded another. And then another…
Having hardly ever drank in his life previously, it came to no surprise when Kelly found himself slurring, reeking of Jack Daniels, and sitting by himself at the bar because no one wanted to be near him. No one liked an obnoxious drunk.
Kelly speech slurred more often, and his stutters were filled with greater rifts and pauses, and even some hesitation on Kelly’s part. His face would lock up, as if trying to figure out a huge math problem that he just didn’t get.
“Hey, barkeep!” He shouted loudly. “Let’s ‘ave another one of these, eh?”
Fred told him no. “What? Aw, I ain’t drunk. Swear!”
“Forget it, kid. Pay up, and let’s get you a cab or something.” Fred motioned to Kayla to attend to Kelly. Kelly made a show of searching for his wallet, which mysteriously appeared on the counter in front of him. Kelly was astounded. Fred had seen the kid put it there a few moments ago; he was not so astounded.
“C’mon, Kelly,” Kayla ushered him off the stool and towards the door. “Let’s get a cab. You tell me where you live, all right?”
“Yeah, sure whatever.” Kelly was hardly paying attention. But then a spark lit up his eyes. “Hey, you wanna come up to my apa’tment with me? Could use the comp’ny.”
Kayla had never heard Kelly drunk before; no one who knew Kelly had either. They all stared sadly at the pathetic sight as Kayla slowly came to the door.
It opened from the other way, and an angry man blitzed through, halting abruptly right in front of Kayla and Kelly. He looked offended. “Excuse me?” He said after a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Kayla apologized. “Here, you first.” She made to step aside, but Kelly didn’t budge. She tried to budge him twice, and then looked at him in frustration. “Kelly, let the man in.” even as she finished the sentence, she saw his eyes. They were alight as if gasoline had been poured on them, and doused with fire. They were twisted with anger.
“I know you, man,” Kelly reached out and grabbed the man by the shirt.
The man was furious, until he looked Kelly in the eye. And then his pupils widened. His lips opened as if to say something, but no sounds came out. He was a business guy of sorts, dressed like one, hair gelled, and intensity buzzing about him. A true, white-collared gentleman.
Kelly knew this man, though. Even through his drunken stupor, he recognized the angry features, the same that belonged to the man that had humiliated Kelly at the Starbuck’s months ago. The image of the man screaming, demanding, and the final insult, throwing the cup of coffee into Kelly’s face – the image became a sledgehammer on Kelly’s thoughts, and he refused to move as Kayla tried to separate them.
“I remember you, prick!” Kelly shouted again, and this time Fred came from around the bar, annoyance on his face. Kayla tried to wave him away, but Fred was coming anyways.
“What’s going on here?” Fred demanded.
But the man in the business suit had had enough. He broke Kelly’s grip and took off in the opposite direction. He was running for his life.
“Hey! Hey!” Kelly screamed. “Get back ‘ere, bastard!” Kelly tore away from Kayla and Fred and sprinted in an uncoordinated way after the man.
Kelly’s quarry was fast, and he was sober. But neither of these was a match for Kelly, who had been sprinting these blocks for months now, a cardio machine that was unstoppable, and could outlast any mere businessman. Kelly finally caught him, shoving him hard to the ground.
“Down!” Kelly dropped on top of him. The man was shaking. There was no doubt he feared for his very life. He thought Kelly was going to kill him. Oh no, no, my friend; Kelly wanted vengeance, not murder.
Kelly brought his arm back, and whipped it around with a force he had never used before. The slap could be heard for blocks. Kelly’s poor victim screamed, and shouted for help.
“Scream, boy! What’choo gon do now, eh?” Kelly hissed in his face. “Remember me? Remember! Eh? Eh!”
He slapped the man again. Kayla had finally caught up, with Fred in her wake. It was Fred himself who wrapped his arms around Kelly’s waist, lifting him bodily into the air, while the man trapped under Kelly was up and running again.
“Hey!” Kelly shouted after him. “Run, piggy! Run!”
“Enough!” Fred forced Kelly up against the wall. “Kayla,” He said to his daughter. “Get somebody here to get this kid home before he hurts someone else.”
Kayla would never forget the sight of Kelly’s rage, his contorted face beyond description, a demon in the place of a human being, switched out so that the demon could spend time in the flesh.
Justin Kelly was not a nice boy after all.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Sam leaned against the couch in Mel and Kelly’s apartment, thinking quietly. Claudia was washing dishes leftover from breakfast, humming a tune softly. Mel came over and sat down on the couch casually, though his attitude was anything but casual.
“Can you believe the kid?” he asked Sam. “Gets drunk and tries to tear the head off of some fool no one even knows. This is not good, man. We need to do something about it.”
Sam looked up. “Do what exactly? Tell Kelly that we’ll kill him if we find out that he’s been drinking again?”
Mel shrugged helplessly. “Man, you want this guy healthy for whatever fight he’s got, well, I’m just throwin’ suggestions out.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sam scratched his head. “Tonight the champ is defending his title against the guy that just beat Kelly. I think it would be best if Kelly stays here today, huh?” He jabbed finger into the couch to emphasize his point. “No leaving; he just needs to sit here and get whatever poison is in his system out.”
“I hear that,” Mel said. “I just can’t believe it. Who would’ve thought the kid would do something like this? Did he tell you why he did it?”
Sam’s eyebrows shifted downwards as he bit his lip, concentrating on Mel’s words. “No, he didn’t.” he paused, still thinking. “Why, did he tell you?”
“Nah, man. But I have my hunch.” Mel stood up. “Here, lemme help.” He started to help Claudia wash the dishes while Sam sat on the couch, still thinking. He had been sleeping when Stan had woken him up to let him know what had happened to Kelly.
Easily put, Sam was pissed. Kelly couldn’t afford to shirk training like this; especially if he wanted to be champion someday. And drinking, Sam had learned the hard way, never ever took the pain of failure or loss away. Nor did it ever offer any answers to a problem.
“I’m going to talk with him,” Sam went over to Kelly’s room, and knocked twice. There was no response, just a quiet from within. Sam rolled his eyes. “Is he still sleeping?”
“Probably.” Mel said. “He got in late last night.”
Sam opened the door anyway, and shut it quietly after he had entered. Kelly wasn’t in the bed in the corner; but the light was on in the bathroom. Sam went over to the door to find Kelly shaving.
Kelly’s eyes were bloodshot, and his frown spoke volumes. His hair was ragged and unkempt. The only thing clean about his appearance was his face after splashing water on it, removing the shaving cream in the process.
Kelly dried his face on a towel, and then went over to the door, brushed past Sam as he went to the bed. “I don’t remember anything.” He said.
“No kidding? Of anything last night, or what?” Sam said quizzically.
Kelly grunted. “Just after I started on t-the Jack Daniels.”
Sam felt a flicker of anger start to rise up in his chest. It soared rapidly, until it left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Kelly!” He kicked the bed post in frustration. “Kid, are you stupid? Why did you do it?”
Kelly wasn’t even looking at him. Just the darkened blue carpet. “I…” Kelly had something on his mind, but he refused to get it out into the open. “I was troubled.” He answered.
“That’s no excuse.” Sam crouched down to eye-level with him. “Look at me, Kelly.”
Kelly didn’t.
“Tonight, Castillo is challenging Axe for the title. You lost the fight. Whatever is left in you, if it’s disappointment or what, just drop it. It’s behind you. You need to look to the future.” Sam got back up. “Seriously, kid. A loss is a loss. I heard a quote once, I forget who said it: ‘If you don’t lose, you ain’t fighting the best.’ So what does that say about you?”
Kelly shrugged. “That I c-can’t win?”
“Get over it, Kelly!” Sam bellowed. He seized Kelly’s chin and tilted it up so that Kelly looked him in the eye. “You’re being a little bitch right now.” Sam hissed.
Kelly’s eyes narrowed. Sam could feel Kelly’s jaw tighten up. Sam had hit the mark.
“Now you have to ask yourself, what kind of a man do you want to be remembered as?” he went on. “The man who lost a few and went on to win the championship anyway? Or do you wanna be remembered as the guy everyone loved, only when he lost, he quit, because he just couldn’t handle it if things didn’t go his way?”
Sam was startled as Kelly knocked his hand away and stood up like a raging lion. Toe to toe, Kelly was intimidating. His teeth were bared, and while those eyes weren’t in full anger mode, they were knocking on the door. Kelly turned his back on Sam.
“I just want to be alone right now, all right?” And then, the switch was made. Kelly’s voice was filled with a sentiment that Sam hadn’t detected before. It wasn’t the fight that was bothering Kelly. Sam felt that in his gut then.
He went to the door with this gut check, but stopped when his hand rested on the cool, brass knob of the door. He looked back at Kelly, his friend, as Kelly sat on the bed again, hunched over, agonizing over something. Something that Sam knew in his gut.
“This has to do with Tara, doesn’t it?”
Kelly tried not to, but the wince could be seen on the shape of his shoulders. Sam nodded. He debated. And then he made a choice.
He went back to the bed and sat down next to Kelly. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that.”
“L-lit-literally nothing.” Kelly said. He used a wrist to wipe his nose. “She wants nothing to do with me now.”
“Why? What’d you do?” Sam was getting a bad vibe.
“I kissed…kissed her.” Kelly was blushing viciously and no doubt wanting to be dead.
Sam couldn’t help himself, however. He burst out laughing. “Kid, be glad that’s the worst of it.” he patted Kelly on the back. “All right, I’ll leave you be. Take today off, man. Go do something fun with Stan or Mel or somebody.”
He got up and smiled at his friend one last time. “And remember something for me bro.”
Kelly cleared his throat. “What?”
“There’s plenty of girls around here, man.”
He left Kelly then, and Kelly felt somewhat better. Still stupid and embarrassed, but better.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sam? It’s Lindsey, remember me?”
Sam was about to turn his car on when he received the call. He couldn’t believe the warm voice on the other line.
“Lindsey? Wow,” he instantly recalled a friendly kid back in high school. Somewhat shy at first, Lindsey hadn’t made many friends by her senior year, but whoever was her friend, including Sam, she was the sweetest person to. Sam then remembered that she had moved out to Indiana two years ago. This call was out of the blue, and very interesting because of it.
“So what, you just felt like calling outta nowhere?” Sam teased.
“What? Nah,” She laughed. “I’m in Chicago. Are you busy right now?”
Sam pondered. “Nope. Not really.” Hell with it; if Kelly was skipping training today, Sam would as well. “Where are you right now?”
“Tell you what,” She said. “Let’s meet up.”
“Sure, where at?” Sam started the car up.
“How about downtown? I’ll give you call when I’m in the area.”
They agreed, and Sam hung up. He chuckled at his stroke of fortune. Today was going to be an interesting day.
Sam was in the California Pizza restaurant when he saw Lindsey enter. He felt his jaw drop as he drank up her image.
She had gotten even prettier, if that was possible. She had always been cute, in a punky kind of way. Shorter hair than usually, darkened and somewhat spiky. Her eyes were magnified behind spectacles, and they shone in the light. The eyes behind those specs were a beautiful dark brown, and appeared very much alive. She was wearing a sweater Sam had gotten her for Christmas, so many years ago. Sam laughed when he saw it.
“Wow.” She sat down across from him, grinning as well. “Can’t believe you’ve still hung on to that.”
“It was a nice sweater,” She said slowly. “I’m not gonna get rid of it just because it’s old.”
“True enough,” Sam leaned back. “So how ya doing lately? Or better yet, what are you doing here, even? Aren’t you still enrolled at Purdue?”
Lindsey shook her head. “I’m finished. I woke up a few months ago and realized I just didn’t wanna do it anymore.”
This shocked Sam, who always had taken Lindsey as the kind to set goals and achieve them, regardless of the cost. “So what, you’re transferring somewhere or are you completely done?”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet,” She must’ve seen the look in his eyes, because she reassured him. “No, I’m just transferring to a community college not too far away from here.”
“Really?” Sam blinked. “So you’re back?”
“For good.” She confirmed. “Besides, I missed the gang. Where is everybody?”
Sam smiled. “Well, Stan’s still here, if that’s what you’re wondering. Rachel went out to Iowa. Or Kansas City, I have no idea. One of the two. And Jacob’s off somewhere doing something. He and I haven’t really spoken since graduation though.”
“Really?” Lindsey whistled slowly. “Nice. So that’s it then? Tell me you’re not just by yourself everyday then. You haven’t made any new friends?”
“Have you?” Sam bounced back.
“Of course I have. But if I recall, I directed the question towards you,” she kicked him underneath the table. “Quit stalling, man.”
“Fine fine,” he rolled his eyes as she laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got friends. Stan’s still hanging around, like I’ve said-”
“Stan? Oh god. What’s the guy up to now?” she said.
“Not much. Has a job at a Starbuck’s maybe a couple of blocks from here.” Sam tipped his hands.
“Ah, jeez, that kid reminds of the good days.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I know how you feel. I’m a manager for a fighter, too.”
“Oh, so you’re still into that fighting crap?” She waved her hands to wave away a protest. “Relax, I’m just asking. You know I have no idea what that stuff is about.”
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I’m a manager. I don’t really fight anymore.”
“Why not?” she asked. Sam wondered the same thing.
“I’ve got a harder time trying to help my boy become the Midwestern champ as it is.”
“Whoa, so he’s a big-timer? When do I get to meet this champ?”
“He’s not a champion yet,” Sam smiled as he thought about Kelly. “You’d like him. He’s a good kid. Really pure at heart.”
“Cool,” Lindsey said. “Cool. So that’s all you’re doing right now, training somebody to fight?”
Sam nodded.
“Well, at least it looks like you’ve got a hobby goin’ or something.” Lindsey sighed. “Okay, what are you getting for lunch?”
“Well, it’s a pizza shop…” Sam started.
“Somehow, I knew you were gonna say that.” They both laughed. Sam felt good as he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three in the afternoon. He wondered what Bob was going to say when he found out that only Stan, Mark and Brady were showing up for training.
It wasn’t going to be good, Sam knew that.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sam? It’s Lindsey, remember me?”
Sam was about to turn his car on when he received the call. He couldn’t believe the warm voice on the other line.
“Lindsey? Wow,” he instantly recalled a friendly kid back in high school. Somewhat shy at first, Lindsey hadn’t made many friends by her senior year, but whoever was her friend, including Sam, she was the sweetest person to. Sam then remembered that she had moved out to Indiana two years ago. This call was out of the blue, and very interesting because of it.
“So what, you just felt like calling outta nowhere?” Sam teased.
“What? Nah,” She laughed. “I’m in Chicago. Are you busy right now?”
Sam pondered. “Nope. Not really.” Hell with it; if Kelly was skipping training today, Sam would as well. “Where are you right now?”
“Tell you what,” She said. “Let’s meet up.”
“Sure, where at?” Sam started the car up.
“How about downtown? I’ll give you call when I’m in the area.”
They agreed, and Sam hung up. He chuckled at his stroke of fortune. Today was going to be an interesting day.
Sam was in the California Pizza restaurant when he saw Lindsey enter. He felt his jaw drop as he drank up her image.
She had gotten even prettier, if that was possible. She had always been cute, in a punky kind of way. Shorter hair than usually, darkened and somewhat spiky. Her eyes were magnified behind spectacles, and they shone in the light. The eyes behind those specs were a beautiful dark brown, and appeared very much alive. She was wearing a sweater Sam had gotten her for Christmas, so many years ago. Sam laughed when he saw it.
“Wow.” She sat down across from him, grinning as well. “Can’t believe you’ve still hung on to that.”
“It was a nice sweater,” She said slowly. “I’m not gonna get rid of it just because it’s old.”
“True enough,” Sam leaned back. “So how ya doing lately? Or better yet, what are you doing here, even? Aren’t you still enrolled at Purdue?”
Lindsey shook her head. “I’m finished. I woke up a few months ago and realized I just didn’t wanna do it anymore.”
This shocked Sam, who always had taken Lindsey as the kind to set goals and achieve them, regardless of the cost. “So what, you’re transferring somewhere or are you completely done?”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet,” She must’ve seen the look in his eyes, because she reassured him. “No, I’m just transferring to a community college not too far away from here.”
“Really?” Sam blinked. “So you’re back?”
“For good.” She confirmed. “Besides, I missed the gang. Where is everybody?”
Sam smiled. “Well, Stan’s still here, if that’s what you’re wondering. Rachel went out to Iowa. Or Kansas City, I have no idea. One of the two. And Jacob’s off somewhere doing something. He and I haven’t really spoken since graduation though.”
“Really?” Lindsey whistled slowly. “Nice. So that’s it then? Tell me you’re not just by yourself everyday then. You haven’t made any new friends?”
“Have you?” Sam bounced back.
“Of course I have. But if I recall, I directed the question towards you,” she kicked him underneath the table. “Quit stalling, man.”
“Fine fine,” he rolled his eyes as she laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got friends. Stan’s still hanging around, like I’ve said-”
“Stan? Oh god. What’s the guy up to now?” she said.
“Not much. Has a job at a Starbuck’s maybe a couple of blocks from here.” Sam tipped his hands.
“Ah, jeez, that kid reminds of the good days.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I know how you feel. I’m a manager for a fighter, too.”
“Oh, so you’re still into that fighting crap?” She waved her hands to wave away a protest. “Relax, I’m just asking. You know I have no idea what that stuff is about.”
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I’m a manager. I don’t really fight anymore.”
“Why not?” she asked. Sam wondered the same thing.
“I’ve got a harder time trying to help my boy become the Midwestern champ as it is.”
“Whoa, so he’s a big-timer? When do I get to meet this champ?”
“He’s not a champion yet,” Sam smiled as he thought about Kelly. “You’d like him. He’s a good kid. Really pure at heart.”
“Cool,” Lindsey said. “Cool. So that’s all you’re doing right now, training somebody to fight?”
Sam nodded.
“Well, at least it looks like you’ve got a hobby goin’ or something.” Lindsey sighed. “Okay, what are you getting for lunch?”
“Well, it’s a pizza shop…” Sam started.
“Somehow, I knew you were gonna say that.” They both laughed. Sam felt good as he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three in the afternoon. He wondered what Bob was going to say when he found out that only Stan, Mark and Brady were showing up for training.
It wasn’t going to be good, Sam knew that.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Kelly was sitting on his bed, trying not to think about the night, trying to enjoy himself while he still had time. His head had been killing him for most of the day. He’d heard of hangovers, but he hadn’t ever really considered that in the near future that he would have been a possible victim of it. And now here he was, wincing and cursing under his breath.
He had spent the whole day restlessly in the house. Fight Night was in the making, and Kelly didn’t want to go. Bob and Sam had obviously known Kelly’s hidden desires; they had gone without him.
Mel was out on the job, and Kelly was bored without him. Stan was working as well and that left Kelly with no one. But hey, that was all right, wasn’t it? Being alone. Kelly was familiar with the sensation. Even before he had met Sam, he had never really felt like he was walking among normal, everyday people. He felt like he was drifting, high, afloat, amongst the world of flesh as the bodies around him ignored him entirely. He felt like a ghost.
But hey, that was all right too, wasn’t it? Being a ghost had its advantages. It meant no outstanding expectations of you, people weren’t demanding a great and enthusiastic work ethic from you every day of your life. It meant that you could be invisible. It meant that you could do what you wanted an no one would care.
But Kelly had no interest in being a ghost. He wanted to make waves. But the fear of what would come after always would crawl up on him, fawning on his skin, giving him goose bumps. He often recalled his first day fighting; his first day of taking a step towards becoming a true man.
Kelly tipped his body backwards, lying prone on the cot, his mind wandering back into the past…
(The man standing in front of Smalls meant nothing to Smalls at all. The crowd was screaming for the man to take Smalls out; this guy was a hero, after all. He’d had over forty fights. He was hailing from a good camp in New York. Smalls knew nothing. His punches came from his shoulders, not from his whole body moving as one. The shoulder punches would land on his opponent, but the man was shaking them off pretty well, laughing, even, at Smalls’ technique.
Smalls went down after a kick the neck stunned him. He hadn’t felt such a pain since momma in the early days, when he was eight. But unfortunately for Smalls opponent, the pain was a familiar sensation; one Smalls had been gliding on for his whole life, surfing it, bathing in it and drinking it wholly. It was a far better thing to hang onto than loneliness and abandonment, and the pain gave Smalls something no powerful punch could give in the world.
It gave him rage like nothing else. And through the rage, Smalls would carry out his work. He would get up before the ref even counted to four, and after assuring the ref he was fine, Smalls charged his man, and dropped him. Even though his opponent rose up quickly, there was now terror in his eyes.
And those eyes would remain the same as Smalls decimated him, forcing the ref to tear Smalls away from the man in the corner before Smalls truly crippled him.
And once that match was, the new sensations came rushing through the painful scars and lacerations on Smalls’ body. The sensations of accomplishment, dominance, and yes, a power trip, they all made Smalls drunk. He would leap on the corner and make a slashing gesture on his throat, screaming at the crowd, daring them to throw him another fighter. He screamed because he wanted the pain. He wanted it, and then he wanted to share it with another man in the ring. He wanted to show what a true fighter went through to win. He wanted…
It would take months, many months and two more victories and a loss between them for Justin “Smalls” Kelly to realize what he truly wanted from fighting. The power to shed the form of his ghost demeanor, to step forward. To rise above the common man.
To feel invincible, even if it was just for a moment, hushed, all by himself, if it needed be. He would treasure that moment, no matter how long it lasted, and no matter whether or not he had someone to share it with. Kelly wanted what Smalls had. The respect of his opponents, and the fear of his power, his strength, his unbeatable chin, and his warrior’s heart and his lion-like rage.
Oh, how long ago it seemed. How so much had changed.)
Kelly knew it did not matter if he thought all the time about his past. He knew it was pointless.
And it wouldn’t give him the title-shot back. It wouldn’t make his climb back into the ring any easier. Kelly just wished that he hadn’t been a fool when fighting Castillo. Sam, Bob, they both thought Kelly had just abandoned the game plan. No, Kelly had had the perfect game plan for Castillo; it wasn’t that which fell apart in the fight.
It was because Kelly had been afraid. He hadn’t been scared before, but Castillo was huge, and he had been far stronger in the fight. When Kelly clinched with him, it felt like clinching with a three-hundred pound gorilla. Kelly had lost control shortly after that, letting his fists go where they would, and not letting his rage and his heart carry him like they always did…
And here he was now. The phone rang. Kelly rushed to pick it up. “Hello?” He answered.
“It’s Bob,” Bob cleared his throat.
“What happened?” Kelly’s mouth went dry.
“It didn’t go past the first round,” Bob sighed sadly. “Castillo dropped Axe, and Axe didn’t get up. Castillo’s champ now.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Kelly sat in a slump.
What he should’ve done was thank Bob for the information given to him. Instead he hung up on his former guardian, and hurled the phone towards the couch.
He missed it entirely, hitting the wall. Kelly was shocked that the phone, despite its loud crack when it hit, did not break into several pieces. He instantly dashed forward and scooped it up. He started pushing buttons to make sure it still worked. Every button he pushed lit up on the screen. For the first time in his life, Kelly was grateful for the fact that phones were much tougher than their predecessors of the old ages.
He found himself slumped over on the couch later, agonizing. It should have been him going home that night with the title around his waist. But he was stuck at home, living the dream life of a bum, wishing that he could be the champ for a change.
Finally, Kelly gave up. He gave up on his despair, and he gave up on his anger. He sat on the couch, folding into memories of the good times that had filled in the blanks of misery in his life. There were good times, yes. They were just rarities.
The door opened and Claudia came in, looking fresh and content. Kelly had no idea where she had been, or what she had been doing, but she blinked when she saw him on the couch. Startled or not, Kelly didn’t care. He no longer cared what any girl thought of him. They all thought the same thing anyways.
“You okay?” Claudia asked as she put her keys up and away, and took her shoes off. She plopped down in a chair adjacent to Kelly.
Kelly was silent for a second before finally responding. “The ch-champ lost tonight. I could’ve been the one that beat him.”
“Yeah ,well, wishing for changes in the past won’t do much good, will it?” Claudia shrugged. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
Kelly didn’t even bother saying yes. He just nodded.
Claudia understood. “Look, kid, you never know what could happen. For all you know, this new champ could get injured for life, and you might be asked to step up and take his place; or maybe even fight for his title. It’s not like you’ll never get the chance again to fight him again, after all.”
“How do you know that? Life’s not predictable.”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “And here you are, being so pessimistic it’d make even the biggest skeptic look happy and sincere. Kelly, you keep shoving down hope when there’s always a chance for redemption.”
“Redemption?” Kelly snorted. “W-when is redemption ever guaranteed?”
“It’s always there,” She moved over to the couch, forcing Kelly to scoot over and give her some room. She studied him for a full minute, as if trying to find a hole in his game. “Look,” she said after a bit of this. “My mom was a huge Baptist, okay? She always stressed repentance and all that great stuff. She owned a little shop in the middle of nowhere.” Claudia smoothed her hair back. “It didn’t make much money, and when it did, it kept us alive, me and mom. But she never gave up that little shop, even when she got offers from big, rich people to sell the shop. She remained firm and kept the shop.
“And you know what happened to that shop, Kelly? It blew up. One day, we went from sitting maybe twelve to thirty people a day to almost two hundred. It still wasn’t great money, but we were doing even better than we had before. And you know what? It was all because she ignored the bad days when there was little money to be had, and she kept on having faith that one day, one day, everything would work out.” Claudia nudged Kelly, who was staring off in the distance, as if he was seeing something that wasn’t there. “Do you get it? There’s more to faith than just church, or God, or whatever. Faith is having confidence, and faith is about doing what you do because you love it, and you want to get better at it no matter what. Faith is about trying again and again. And eventually, faith in the end will always triumph.”
Silence reigned over the apartment. Kelly’s eyes were glued to the ground, and Claudia’s eyes were glued to Kelly, waiting for his response.
Kelly scratched his arm, the look on his face changing from utter despair to something better; a determination to try anyways.
“Do you think I can fight and win the title someday?” He asked without stuttering.
Claudia rested a hand on his leg for a moment. “I have no doubt that you’ll win it. Sooner than you think, too.”
Kelly nodded, and Claudia swore she saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes as he thanked her.
“What you say I cook a good dinner,” Claudia stood up. “Just for the two of us?”
“S-sounds swell.” Kelly wiped an arm across his face, and sat there for a moment longer before retiring to his room. Claudia got out the tools she would need for dinner.
When she finally finished, thirty minutes later, she fixed for Kelly a plate of steak, mashed potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. They ate in silence for the most part, except for when Claudia would mention something interesting about her day, or a funny tale that would come up from the reminiscing. Kelly listened for the most part, but did tell a story or two of his own. Claudia listened easily, giving no sign of being bored.
Kelly couldn’t recall last when he had been at dinner with a girl who listened to what he had to say and seemed to enjoy listening to it. Claudia was hanging on his every word, and Kelly didn’t know how to feel about it.
Finally, Mel came in the door, when dinner was finished, and he couldn’t help but comment on Kelly’s helping Claudia cleaning up. “Did I miss something here? Any party for two?”
“You could say that,” Claudia said with more than a sparkle in her eye. Mel just grinned.
“You takin’ care of my girl, Kelly?” he inquired.
“Yeah, more or l-less.” Kelly assured him.
Mel nodded, as if satisfied. “Well, that’s good then. As long as it wasn’t consensual.” Claudia flicked a dishrag at him for that offhand, teasing remark.
Mel and Claudia sat down later, watching the television. Kelly decided to join them when the phone rang. Mel snatched it up first, but handed it to Kelly after listening to a moment. “It’s for you,” Mel mouthed. “Sounds important.” He had a look in his eye that Kelly couldn’t place. It looked like excitement.
“Hello?” Kelly said in as polite a voice as he could manage.
“Justin Kelly, It’s Black, president of Warrior Championships.” Kelly recognized the voice of the boss of the Organization. He straightened up as he spoke clearly.
“Is there something I can do f-for you, sir?”
“Just lettin’ you know what’s up, kid, that’s all,” Black cleared his throat. “Did you hear the results of tonight’s card?”
“Yes I did.”
“Good. I have been speaking with your manager, Sam Young, and we’ve agreed that you’re too good of a fighter to let a loss that was to the current champ cast you into the shadows.” Black continued. “So we figured that a big fight would be good for you. One that would give you automatic number-one-contendership status if you win, and if you lose, it wouldn’t be a horrible loss, because it’s to a great opponent.”
“Who’s the man I’m f-fighting, sir?” Kelly’s heart was pounding as he contemplated the possibilities. A rematch with Cage?
“Axe just lost the title. A win or two would make him the man to fight for the title again,” Black said. “So, he heard about you losing to Castillo as well, and he thought a fight with you would be great. He said he’d be honored.” Black paused for a moment. “The question is, would you be willing to fight the man?”
“Tell me where to sign up.” Kelly’s voice trembled, and his whole body followed suit, as he shook vigorously. He couldn’t believe it. Maybe there was something to what Claudia had said after all.
“Excellent. Don’t worry about the paperwork, Mr. Young will deal with it himself, he said,” Black sounded relieved Kelly had accepted. “Great then, kid. Get ready. You’ve got a month.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Andre Berst was in Hell again.
Kelly was throwing him around the entire room, and Berst couldn’t hit him with anything anymore. Trying to keep the distance with a jab didn’t worked, because Kelly just stepped through it, powering his way into a clinch. Just standing in the clinch no longer worked, because Kelly had learned the art of kidney punches, and would alternate between those and looping hooks to the head when the two broke apart. Andre’s face broke from a look of shock to relief when the bell rang.
“Time!” Bob shouted. “Cardio time, Kelly.”
Kelly endured the cardio, which consisted of log rolls, burpees, and sprints in the room. Cardio lasted for at least thirty minutes, as intense as marine training, and as gratifying as anything Kelly had felt in his life.
“You think he’ll win, given the way he’s going?” Stan inquired of Sam as they both sat back, watching Kelly go at it.
“Did you really just ask me that?” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Of course he’s going to win; look at him!”
“Yeah, dumb question I guess.” Stan shrugged. “Hopefully everything will go well. I mean, for all of us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam cast an eye on his friend.
Stan sighed, as if dreading something coming his way in the future. “Tomorrow, I’m going to see her.”
Sam blinked. “Really?” He asked. “Do you know how she’s doing?”
“Well, I’ll bet I’ve missed the birth of her kid.” Stan was in a mood, and it showed easily now. He wasn’t excited for the visit. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to the fact that the kid’s skins several shades darker than mine.”
“How do you know it’s not yours?” Sam said indignantly. “You’re automatically assuming that this is another guy’s kid? Stan, that’s ridiculous!”
Stan just ignored him. “Why can’t you just take some responsibility and admit that you made a mistake?” Sam said, now frustrated. “It’s your own fault if you didn’t use protection.”
“What are you, my mom?” Stan shifted uncomfortably. “Leave it alone. I’ll deal with it on my own time, not yours.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sam said. “But you’d better deal with it in the right way, man. Don’t just treat her like trash. If this is your kid, you’d better not throw it all away on bitterness alone.”
“Shut up, man. Just shut up. You ain’t exactly got a degree in this field of expertise yourself,” Stan glared at him, his breathing quickening.
“No, but I don’t have to.” They sat there for a moment as the atmosphere got awkward. Sam stared straight ahead at Kelly, and Stan stared straight down at the ground.
Kelly was grunting loudly. His breathing likened to that of hissing, and his face that of pain. But in the pain came the fire that burned forth, the fire that drove him to success no matter what. Sam couldn’t help but admire the kid’s tenacity. He wished Stan would take a lesson from Kelly’s heart and determination. Stan, however, wasn’t even paying attention.
Training finished later, and Sam caught up the Stan outside. “Hey man. Can we talk?”
“Whatever. Sure. What’s up?” Stan turned to look at him.
“Look, I’m sorry if I came down hard in there,” Sam began. “It’s just…I’m worried for you, man. You’re acting like you don’t care about your girl, and I know you do. You act like you don’t wanna see the kid, but you know you do. So why not just take it like a man? If it’s your kid, then help her raise it. If it’s not your kid, then deal with it.”
“Easy for you to say; you’re not the one who has to deal with this in the first place.” Stan snorted. “But relax, will ya? I’m going tomorrow.”
“Do you still love her?” Sam felt the need to pursue the matter as he and Stan headed for the car.
“That’s a dumb question. We’ve been together off and on for years.” Stan got in the driver’s seat. “What do you think?”
“I was just asking, sorry.”
“Yeah, will ya quit now? It’s getting annoying.” Stan swerved in and out of traffic, trying to avoid the morning rush. “God, it’s like a freakin’ nightmare trying to drive out here.”
“So how do you feel about having to raise the kid?”
“Didn’t I just say quit it? This is killing me, man.”
“But think about it!” Sam said. “What’s this gonna do for you here? You said she moved out of Chicago months ago. You might have to move out. You might have to get a job somewhere else.”
“And now you see why I’ve been trying to avoid contact with her,” Stan sighed. At a red light, he took his hand off of the wheel and rubbed his shaven head in frustration. “I don’t wanna leave Chicago, man. This is my home. I love it here. I even like my job, as much as I hate my boss. I don’t wanna leave.”
Sam nodded slowly, as if trying to grasp the situation. “Stan,” he said then. “Sometimes family is more important than living in the place of your dreams, with your friends.”
Stan cursed. And then cursed again. “I know that.”
“Then why are you dragging your feet? This is the right thing to do, and you know it.”
“Then why are we still talking about it? Dang it, Sam! Leave it alone!” Stan almost shouted it.
“Fine.” Sam nudged him anyway. “I just want you to know that we all support you, man. Me, Mel, Kelly, we got your back, man. Anything you need, be it mental support or cash, we’re here for ya.”
“And I appreciate that. I really do. But enough about it for now. Let’s get some lunch, huh? ‘Cause this jam ain’t going down, and I don’t wanna wait in traffic all day without some food in my gut.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Justin Kelly was in a good mood.
He met Mel at Fred’s to start the night. Mel had gotten off of work early, and was eager to have a good, fun night. They ordered their usual; a water for Kelly, (Fred seemed happier with this than a beer for Kelly) and a beer for Mel.
They had gotten started well. They were just waiting on Sam to arrive. Sam had said he was bringing a friend to introduce to the group.
“Do you know who it is?” Mel asked Kelly, who was watching a baseball game on the television.
“N-nope. You?” Kelly asked without taking his eyes off of the game.
“Why would I ask you if I knew?” Mel laughed aloud, finishing his beer. “Hey Fred, can we get some wings while we’re at it?”
“Sure thing,” Fred elbowed Mauricio. “Wings for Mel and Kelly over there.” Mauricio saluted Mel, who returned the favor.
“How’s life, Mauricio?” Mel called to him loudly.
“Same as usual.” They both laughed. “I’ll get you your wings quick.”
“So neither of us knows who she is?” Mel was back to speaking with Kelly. “Is she Sam’s girl or something, you think?”
Kelly shrugged. “I d-don’t know. Ask him.”
“I will; man’s keepin’ us in the dark.” Mel sat back down on his stool when Kayla came up to them, leaning against Kelly’s stool.
“Hi guys,” She smiled happily.
“How you doin’, Kayla? Your dad won’t mind if I ask you that, right?” Mel grinned.
“Probably.” She admitted. “So how are you, Kelly? How’s fighting coming along?”
Kelly’s eyes were once again on the game, but this time with a more fervent determination to remain there. “All right.” He said to Kayla.
“Cool.” She looked up at Mel. “Doesn’t talk much, does he? Not when he’s watching sports anyways. Like a lot of guys I know.”
“Some things are more important than women, Kayla.” Mel chuckled. “Kelly’s only being the sensible, intelligent man that he’s supposed to be.”
Kayla punched him in the shoulder. “Hey! Hey! I won’t tolerate that!” Mel grabbed her hands to keep her from going further. “Now go help Mauricio, and make me a sammich while you’re at it.”
She let out a pent-up sigh of exasperation and left them then, saying goodbye especially to Kelly. “Bye, Kelly. See you later.”
Kelly spoke back softly. “Bye.”
Once she was gone, Mel shook his head. “What’s this, are you on her hit list or something? Did you see the moves she was tryin’ on you, or were you really into that game?”
“I was trying to w-watch the game.” Kelly said, annoyed.
“I don’t blame you, I guess. She’s a bit too wild for ya, huh? Not like that Tara girl, I guess.” Mel didn’t notice it when Kelly wince at the mention of Tara. He kept going. “Nope. Tara’s got it all. Good looks. Really smart. Gonna be rich someday, richer than her parents, probably. You like rich girls, boy? Is that your game?” Mel tried to get his attention. “Huh?”
“N-no,” Kelly said. “Sh-shut u-up, Mel.”
“Relax, bud. I’m just messin’ with yer head.” Mel laughed hard at Kelly’s reaction. “Take it easy. You need to learn how to take a joke.”
Kelly kept his eyes on the game, his head reeling with embarrassment. He hadn’t given a thought to Tara since that fateful day he had tried to kiss her. It was best left forgotten. She hadn’t come around since. That was fine. Kelly wanted to concentrate on fighting more so than girls anyway. Girls only slowed him down.
Or did they? Kelly wanted to believe so. He didn’t want to admit that they turned him on like nothing else ever could. He liked girls. That was his problem. He was too much like a kid trying to fill in an older man’s shoes when it came to women.
“Hey, look who it is!” Mel hefted his beer in a mock-salute, the same one he’d given Mauricio, while Sam and Lindsay came through the door.
Lindsay was dressed in a simple blue skirt, and her hair was tied back. Sam was dressed in a polo shirt, and he was shaven cleanly. Grinning from ear to ear, he bearhugged Mel proudly. “That’s my man!” they both laugh aloud as Kelly wished he was elsewhere for the reunion.
“Hey guys, this is Lindsay. She and I went to school together, many years ago.” Lindsay said hello, and was introduced to Kelly and Mel in similar fashion.
As they relocated to find a table they could all sit around at, Mauricio handed Mel his wings. Mel winked at him, and Mauricio just grinned.
They sat for a while, eating wings, getting to joke around and know each other. Kelly felt annoyed that he had no game to watch, and sat at the table, uncomfortable whenever Lindsay looked at him.
“So Sam,” Lindsay finally said casually. “When do I get to meet this famous fighter that you’re managing?”
“What, Sam told you about his job?” Mel said, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, that’s the first thing he told me about,” Sam rolled his eyes as she continued. “Went on and on about this one fighter he’s training, how the guy’s got so much potential and stuff.”
“Well, hey baby,” Mel clapped Kelly on the shoulder, rocking the kid out of his daydreaming. “This is the man you’re looking for right here. This is Just Kelly. But don’t call him that. Everyone else calls him Smalls.”
“So you’re the fighter?” Lindsay whistled. “Wow. Cool. How’s that workin’ for ya?”
Kelly could’ve sworn that he heard this from Kayla not ten minutes ago. But nevertheless, he answered for Sam’s sake. “It’s pretty good. I’m fighting in a couple of weeks.”
“Nice.” Lindsay glanced at Sam. “Do you have to pay to get in?”
“If you come in with me, you won’t have to. I can bring in at least three freebies for every card Kelly fights on.”
Kelly was surprised. “Who’s gonna come besides her though?”
Sam shrugged. “You never know.” He answered.
“Yeah.” Kelly grunted. “R-right.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Everyone was departing. Mel offered to give Kelly a ride, but Kelly turned it down. “You go on and pick up Claudia. I’ll see you b-back at the apartment.” Kelly told him.
“Fine man. Whatever. Don’t die tryin’ to get there.” Mel drove off then, and Kelly went off in the direction on home. He wasn’t concerned about how long it would take to get there, nor was he concerned about getting mugged on the way home. He just wanted to be by himself for a change.
Having heard Tara’s name today in conversation bothered him. He didn’t like how Mel brought it up so casually. It was still painful to think about. Kelly cursed bitterly as he sauntered home, trying to forget it had happened.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, after all. He missed her, wished she would call him. Or maybe he should’ve called her. Kelly’s hand was in his pocket before he realized it, and he fished his phone out and was dialing numbers when he realized that he couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t bring himself to do it; to finally break off the silence between him and Tara. She was the one who had made things awkward, why did Kelly have to pay for it?
As it was, his phone went off, causing him to almost drop it. The number was one that he did not recognize. He answered. “Hello?”
“Kelly, is that you?” Kelly was startled when he realized the voice was that of Rich, Kelly’s former boss. The man sounded like he was in a pleasant mood for a change.
“Yeah, it’s m-me.”
“Great. Hey, listen. I just wanted to apologize for, uh, letting you off a while ago.”
Kelly blinked. Was the man trying to set him up? Kelly wasn’t going to fall for it.
“I should’ve realized that it was too rash an action for someone like you to get fired,” The man cleared his throat. “Besides, the car’s fine now. It was just my dignity that was hurt. So I’m sorry about what I did, man. So let me ask you; how would you feel if you came back, and we pretended that this situation never happened?”
No doubt Rich was stunned when he heard laughter on Kelly’s side of the line as Kelly’s bitter chuckles ran through the line. “Just pretend? L-like it never happened?” Kelly stopped chuckling abruptly.
“Yeah. Sure. I’m willing to put it behind me if you are, kid.” Rich said. “I mean, I’m not desperate for help or anything, so there’s no pressure here. I just feel guilty about it now.”
“Well,” Kelly said as he continued walking home. “I appreciate the apology. However, I’ve got something important I’m already doing. I don’t think work is something I’ll have time to do any more.”
“Oh,” Rich sounded distant. “So you’re still fighting, huh?”
“Yeah, Rich. But I’m fighting in a few weeks, and this time it’s important. If I lose this fight, I’m getting set back for a long while.”
“Really? Well that’s great to hear.” Rich cleared his throat again. “Tell you what, man. You take care of your business. You do well. If you ever get the urge to work again, or just need cash, you give me a call, and you can have you job back, deal?”
Kelly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You f-feeling that guilty?”
“Yeah, I am.” Rich said. “I’m not a prick, Kelly. Despite what Stan might think, I’m not a jerkoff. I just have my bad moments.”
As did everyone in the world, Kelly mused. “All right then. I’ll call you if I want the job back.”
“Excellent.” Rich sounded pleased. “And hey, feel free to stop in anytime and hang out. You don’t have to work anymore, so what’s keeping you from doing that? Besides, Tara comes in here plenty, now that schools’ done for the semester. She still talks about you, man.”
“Well, I’ve got to go,” Kelly wanted the conversation to end. “But I’ll do that, okay? Talk to you later, Rich.”
He hung up, feeling uncertain and strange. He shook head. Things were looking up.
He dialed Tara’s number again, and paused once again, when he feared he could go no further. But thinking about what had just happened, Kelly’s determination grew, and he punched in the ‘send’ button, and put the phone back up to his ear.
The phone dialed once. Kelly waited patiently.
Dialed twice. Still no answer. Kelly held his breath.
Dialed thrice. Kelly started to curse inwardly.
And then: click. “Hi, this it Tara. I’m busy at the moment, so leave a message…” click. Beep. Silence, waiting for Kelly to speak.
“It’s Jus-” Kelly paused. “It’s Kelly. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” He hung up then.
Things were still looking up, that was for sure. Kelly felt like a roaring champ at the time, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could beat down his good humor.
Not even a girl who rejected him.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
The drive to Joliet from Chicago wasn’t all that bad, but for Stan, it seemed to take forever. And forever was too long for his mind to wrap around what exactly he was doing. And he didn’t want to wrap his mind around anything.
If Stan had it his way, he wouldn’t have even been making the drive. He would have turned the car around, and headed right back to Chicago.
But Sam had demanded that the right thing be done. And so had Mel. And Kelly as well. Kelly, for God’s sake, had even suggested Stan do this. “If only for closure’s sake,” Sam had chided Stan.
But Stan didn’t care. Hadn’t cared since he’d heard that Elisa was pregnant. Stan hadn’t been that clumsy, or so he had thought. He had never been that drunk when they had made love. Stan could’ve sworn that he had used a condom, even.
And yet here this girl was, claiming that she was pregnant, not a few months since she and Stan had broken up. And that was not too long after she had admitted to him that she’d been cheating on him.
It was hard for Stan to let her go; Elisa had been the first girl Stan had really, really liked. He’d met her while working Starbuck’s, before Rich had even become the manager of the coffee shop. Back then, Stan had felt like there was nothing in the world that could stop him; life had been good, and it was only going to get greater.
And then Elisa had popped into his life. And just like that, things did get better. Stan had never been with a no-nonsense kind of girl before. Often, Stan’s buddies would joke that Elisa was the mature one of the relationship, that she ‘wore the pants.’ Stan never disagreed with the jokes; he’d been a goofy fellow, always joking around, teasing, being stupid. And Elisa always took everything in a stride.
When she had moved in, bills had always been a difficult task for Stan, and he’d been in debt. Before Sam had come along, Elisa took charge, organizing everything, making sure the bills were never an issue. And Stan always had felt better knowing that she had been in control.
And then, that other guy had come into the picture. Stan had only met him once, and back then, Stan hadn’t suspected a relationship between the man and Elisa. A big black guy, charismatic as anything, owned his own business. Stan never really cared for the details, and that was all he could remember about the man.
No, that wasn’t true. He knew now that the kid that was supposed to be Stan’s had been robbed by some black Negro that Stan wanted to kill. And then, while driving to Joliet, Stan regretted that he hadn’t brought Kelly along for the drive. Kelly could’ve knocked the man’s head off for Stan.
Stan groaned as he realized this. This was going to be a long day.
He finally found the house, half an hour later. A little rickety place, in the middle of a shady neighborhood. Stan didn’t like the look of the neighborhood. It reminded him of the poorest places in Chicago, and he feared for the worst.
He made sure his car was locked, and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed this. Just an elderly black lady across the street, tending her garden. She smiled and waved friendly. Stan smiled, but darkly.
As he made his way to the dark-green door, passing by a sorry excuse for a garden, with several dead plants, the door opened wide, and out stepped a large lady, wearing an apron and a frown.
This was not Elisa; unless she had died her hair dark and gained ninety pounds in the short time she and Stan had been apart. Stan smiled politely. “Hi there,” he said amiably. “Is Elisa home, by any chance?”
“And who might you be?” She didn’t smile, and her eyes were ice cold.
“I’m the…” Wait a second, what was he doing? Stan realized no matter what he was going to say, this woman wasn’t going to let him see Elisa. “Just tell her that Stan is here, and she’ll vouch for me.” He finished lamely.
“That didn’t answer my question. Who’s Stan?” She took a step back, as if planning on shutting the door on him.
“Look,” he said impatiently. “The the dad of her kid, okay?”
She blinked. “Oh,” She said. “So you’re the pig that left her and the kid alone?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Stan said, annoyed. “Is she home or what?”
“I don’t think it matters.” She started to shut the door on him.
“Hey!” he barked too loudly for his own good, and his forearm screamed with pain as it blocked her from shutting the door. “Listen, I know she’s home. I just wanna talk to her about the kid, okay?” She was still putting her weight against the door.
“Woman, just open the door!” Stan hissed.
The door flung wide, and Stan was thrown off balance, hitting his head against the door frame. He reeled backwards, wondering what exactly had just happened.
The big woman was walking away back deep into the house, and a new one had taken her place. A thinner one, blonde, and pretty. She was holding a baby in her arms. “You’re several months late.” Elisa informed Stan.
“Yeah.” Stan rubbed his head vigorously. He was staring at the child.
The baby’s skin was a healthy pink, glaring at Stan in the fading sunlight. He felt himself start to blush.
“Yeah, several months all right.” He said again.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Elisa and Stan sat in the kitchen at a small table while Elisa’s friend and roommate, Mary, was cleaning the little home. Stan was still staring at his baby girl. She was a beautiful little thing, just like her mother. The baby was sleeping at the moment, and Stan felt a certain amount of guilt pierce his stomach then. It ripped through his intestines, and burned his throat. He tried swallowing, and that did nothing to help.
“So what’s her name?” He asked Elisa.
Elisa smiled. “Marisa.”
“Nice,” Stan mimicked her smile. “And how’s things?”
“Fine.” She didn’t give much of an answer. “You know, not that much different from Chicago.”
“Really? That’s good.” Stan sighed. He had no idea what he had wanted to say. He hadn’t thought it out; and now he felt like he owed something, but he wasn’t sure what. Elisa sat there, as if waiting for him.
“Is there something you wanted?” She asked tentatively. “I know you’re not just here because you wanted to see the kid.”
That spurred him on. Stan didn’t like getting insulted. “Ouch. That’s pretty harsh.” He managed a smile. “Guess I deserve though. What makes you think that I didn’t come here to see you, though?”
“So you came out of the blue because you missed me?” She said. “What if I hadn’t called you about Marisa?”
“You got me there,” Stan admitted. “But look, I have to do this. Okay? I’ve waited to long, and I have some things to get off of my chest.”
Elisa nodded slowly. And then, “Well, hit me.”
“I was pissed after you and whathisname…” He cut short, seeing the look on his face. “But you didn’t deserve the way I treated you after that. It was a mistake. I’m sorry, Elisa.”
She gave him a look, daring him to continue. So he did. “It’s been a difficult time for me,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about all of it. I know you can’t raise this kid on your own. But in honesty, I thought this wasn’t my kid. I figured it was his.”
“Nice to see that you care.” She said sweetly. A little too sweetly.
Stan ignored it. “Look, I’ve been an ignorant sonofagun before, and we both know that I’ve got my flaws. But I swear, had I known, I never would’ve let you go.”
Silence. Stan hated it. Hated it even more now, sitting across from the mother of his child. Marisa. He glanced her, and then her mom, and then back to Marisa. “Is there any chance that you can forgive me, and come back home?” he felt as if he already knew the answer, but dared to ask anyway.
She didn’t answer right away. She chose to stand up and go over the window behind them. She folded her arms, just staring out the window. Stan felt a tremble run through him, and it persisted, until he truly felt on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry,” It sounded like he was about to cry as well. Stan hadn’t cried since the fourth grade, and he sure hadn’t wanted to now. It felt pathetic. “I really mean it. Please forgive me.”
No answer came. And then it felt like the whole world crashed down on him.
“I have forgiven you Stan, a long time ago,” She finally said. “But you don’t always get what you want, just because you don’t wanna suffer the consequences of your actions. I’m sorry too. But we need to take a time out. We need to figure out whether or not we’ll be able to raise Marisa together or not.”
“Why do you persist on being so damn stubborn?” No sooner had the grief run its course then anger bubbled up to the surface within Stan. “I wasn’t the one that stabbed you in the back. It was the other way around.”
“Excuse me?” She was facing him again, peeved. “Are you telling me all those times you came home drunk, acting like a complete fool was not at all a betrayal? You hit me once, Stan. I can still feel the slap on my face.”
“It was an accident!” He jumped up. “Look, I haven’t gotten drunk like that since.”
“But you’re still drinking, aren’t you?” She sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t change. That’s why I’m here, and you’re in Chicago. Go back, Stan. It’s your home, it’s where you belong. Leave me and Marisa out of your life. We’ll be better off.”
“And what, you think that some rich ****** is gonna make things better? You think he’s gonna come back and give you a big house to live in, and love you always? You’re outta your mind!”
“No Stan, you are. You should take a look in the mirror and see yourself right now. This is what I couldn’t take about you.” She turned her back on him. “Get going, Stan. It’s going to be a long time before we figure things out, I have the feeling.”
And the grief returned, sucking out all of the rage just like that. His trembled, the tears finally trickling down. “Don’t do this to me; I’m sorry.” He stepped towards her, hoping that she wouldn’t hit him for what he was about to do. “Please. I know you don’t need me. I didn’t mean that at all. I’m sorry.” He slowly put his arms around her. “I need you.” He whispered. “I need you, and I need her. Please, don’t take her away from me. Not like this.”
He felt another sigh heave through Elisa’s frail frame, and then Elisa relaxed. She hadn’t fussed about him putting his arms around her. “Stan,” She said. “Go home. We’ll talk later, when you’re calmer, okay?”
“You promise?” It sounded like a little boy trying to get his momma to get something for him.
“Yes, of course I do. But go home, Stan. You’re acting crazy.”
Stan released her. And out of a reckless impulse from his heart, he planted a kiss on her neck. “Fine. I’ll go. Talk to you later.” He said hoarsely.
He passed by the table, and was astonished to find little Marisa looking up at him, curious. Stan felt penetrated by her little, blue eyes. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead. On his way out, he paused to hold out his hand to Mary. “I…uh, I apologize about my behavior.” He said. “Hopefully, you can pretend that never happened.”
Mary didn’t shake his hand, but she grunted and nodded. “Apology accepted. Now get.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
It was time for weigh in’s, and Kelly couldn’t have been more nervous.
Bob and Sam flanked him as he was announced. He was up first. He stepped into the clearing, amid the cheers of the large crowd that had gathered. The spotlights all gathered on Kelly as the announcer said in a loud voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, weighing in first: Justin “Smalls” Kelly!”
He stripped down to his boxers, and after a moment of debate, tapped the weigh in’s doctor on the shoulder. Much to Sam and Bob’s amusement, the doctor listened as Kelly said to him, “I wanna take these off.” Motioning to his briefs.
“Sure thing.” The doctor arranged two men to hold up a towel in front of Kelly as he weigh in. Kelly hopped on the scaled, and waited patiently until the doctor announced, “Two hundred and three pounds!” the crowd erupted with cheers as Kelly held up his arms in appreciation.
Sam and Bob met him on the other side of the scale as he put his pants back on. “Well, you’re a pound lighter than I expected.” Bob chuckled. “You did a good job, kid, training as hard as you have. Now remember, don’t let this guy intimidate you. He’s not champion anymore.”
“Kelly, what’s important is-”Sam started to say as The crowd announced that Axe, also known as “Peter Ggalliano.”
Sam’s eyes widened in shock. Bob removed the Chicago Bears cap from his head as he whistled slowly. “Quite a big man you’ve got there, Kelly.” He said in awe.
“I thought Castillo was big,” Sam said. “But this guy’s bigger.”
Kelly forced himself to turn around, just as the announcer cried out, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the former unnnndisputed Warrior Champioship’s Light-Heavyweight champion oooof the wooorrrrlllld…”
The crowd ate it up hopping up and down as a man emerged from the back part of the stage.
“Peter ‘the Axe’ Ggallianooooooooo!” there was no doubt that this was a real fighter Kelly was facing. His body was chiseled, uncommon for most fighters, but this man made it work. His frame was almost six-five, barely chalking in at six-four and three quarters. His hair was twisted into dreadlocks, tied behind his head for the moment. His eyes were wild, like Kelly’s during a fight, except this man’s eyes were always wild. A vicious, dark brown, as deep and as intense as anything Kelly had ever seen.
He weighed in at two hundred and five pounds. The crowd screamed as Axe forwent celebration so that he could meet Kelly in the center of the stage. He started walking towards Kelly.
“Kelly-” Bob had started to say, too late. Kelly had moved forward, always game for a faceoff.
The roars of the crowd became deafening as the two warriors’ foreheads touched, and pressed together with a furious grinding motion. Their eyes never moved. They were two stones, daring the other to make his day.
Black, the president of the Organization, tried to separate them. “Okay, guys, that’s good. Shake hands now.”
Neither was listening. Both of them were too deep into their heated, silent war involving their eyes. Finally, A twitching smile reached up onto Axe’s face, and he grinned jovially, holding out his hand.
It was a surprising gesture, but Kelly accepted the hand with his own, only to get pulled into a rough hug by the former champ. “Can’t wait to fight you, bud.” The man said in a friendly tone.
And that was it. Axe was leaving, waving to the crowd, signing autographs while Kelly stood dumbfounded by what had just happened.
“Looks like love at first sight.” Sam was grinning even larger than Axe had. “He’s a good sport after all. That’s good for you.”
Kelly dismissed this with a shake of his head. “It won’t matter if I lose this fight. It’s all depending on what happens tomorrow night.”
“C’mon,” Bob said urgently. “Let’s get you home, and eating properly. How you feeling, now that you’ve had a brush with the real champ?”
Kelly nodded eagerly, his eyes speaking for him. “F-felt good.” He said. “Real good.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Kelly got home and was eating when Sam came bursting through the door, followed by Mel, Claudia, and Stan, who had an ashen face. Kelly hugged him first.
“How’d-how’d things go?” He inquired from Stan.
“Not good.” Stan said sadly. But then he smiled quickly. “But forget about me, man. This is your weekend. I’m not gonna take anything away from you. I’ll be there to watch it.”
“Yeah, as well as me, and Bob, we’ll be in your corner,” Sam said confidently, clapping Kelly on the shoulder. “But I’ve got a confession to make; I’ll be bringing some others to watch the fight, so that means that Stan, you’ll have to sit where I usually do.”
“Whatever,” Stan shrugged. “Who’s the freebies? Mel and Claud?” he motioned to the two lovers.
“Nah, man. Can’t make it.” Mel said. “Claudia and I are going to visit her parents.”
“What?” Stan rolled his eyes. “You never meet ‘em, never have to worry about ‘em.”
“And since when were you an expert on romance, Stan?” Kelly didn’t mean it, and it slipped out too late.
Stan clammed up then, biting his lip. “Sorry,” Kelly said. “I forgot. I didn’t-didn’t m-mean it.”
“Yeah,” Stan sighed. “I know ya didn’t, kid. Don’t worry about me. Like I said, this is your weekend, not mine.”
Sam got the attention back on him by clearing his throat. Everyone looked at him as he picked up where he left off. “Lindsay, the girl you guys just met, is one of the freebies. And also,” he turned to Kelly. “I know you’ve been a bit upset about it lately, but I told Tara it was all right if she got to come to watch the fight.”
Kelly blinked. Took a deep breath. “That’s fine.” He said. “And who’s t-the last one?”
“Oh, you guys will see; it’s a surprise.” Sam had a twinkle in his eyes. “Let’s just say it’s a person no one in here would expect to come to one of these.” He winked at Kelly. “I’ll tell you later,” he mouthed when no one was paying attention.
As the night rambled on, with everyone talking and laughing, just goofing around, Kelly pulled Sam aside. “Who’s the other freebie?” he asked.
Sam looked around, as if making sure someone was’nt around to listen in, and then pulled Kelly close. “Sam’s girl is coming,” Sam’s eyes were absolutely glowing. “When Stan came home depressed a few nights ago, I couldn’t just sit there and let this happen to him. SO I called her up and talked her into it. Mel and Claudia agreed to stay home to watch Stan’s little girl.”
“So-so Claudia and Mel are sacrificing their chance to see this just so Stan can get back with his girl?”
“Exactly,” Sam grinned. “Great plan or what? Don’t tell Stan, obviously. It’s a surprise.” He chuckled. “Now, sorry if this means that he won’t really be paying attention to you fight much…”
“Don’t worry about it;” Kelly shrugged. “I’ll be too busy to care anyway.”
“Yeah.” Sam said happily. “I’m happy for ya, kid. You’re fighting the former champ. Do you know what this means? If you can beat him, it means you’ve got what it takes. You could be champion. You’ll get a rematch with Castillo.”
Kelly needed no more goading. After a few minutes of pep talk, Sam and Kelly were hailed by Mel, who stood by the doorway, bellowing like a drunken sailor. “Hey, Kelly, someone for ya at the door! Holla!” everyone laughed as Kelly strode across the room, blushing.
The moment he was outside the door, Mel slammed it shut, and Kelly heard the clicking sound made when the door was being locked. He discovered why Mel had locked the door when he realized Tara Fields was standing in front of him.
“Hey,” He said, feeling forced to do so out of curtesy.
“Hey,” she smiled brightly. It seemed fake to Kelly, but then again, maybe he was just biased. “How are you? Did you make weight?”
“Easily.” He said. “So you’re getting in freely again. You’re pretty lucky. Don’t know how much longer Sam’s gonna do this for you.”
If she seemed startled at the fact that he was being cold and not stuttering either, she didn’t show it. “I came by to talk.” She said.
“About what, the fight?” Kelly was playing dumb, just waiting for her to get to the heart of the matter. She had rejected him first. Therefore she was going to make the first move here.
“No, about us,” She shifted to lean against the wall next to the door. “I’m sorry if I made things awkward a while ago.”
Kelly shrugged, unsure what to say. You’re welcome, maybe? No, that was too cold. Kelly just let her keep going.
“I’ve had time to think about it all, and I did pray.” She said. “I just want to help you understand some things, Justin. I’m not like you, Sam, Mel, or Stan. I’m a bit of a prude, I guess. Maybe more than I should be. But I’ve always believed in a higher power, and I’ve been raised in a very polite way, you follow me?”
Kelly said that he did follow her. “I’ve been with boys before,” she said. “But things never went far. I’m sorry if I treated you like you’re an ungodly heathen. It wasn’t right of me to do that; especially since you’ve treated me far better than any other boy I’ve been with.”
Now Kelly really didn’t know what to say. You’re welcome?
“I just wanted to let you know that if you’re still wanting to, we have two choices,” She held up a finger. “One, we can pretend this never happened and just be good friends, like Sam and I have done, or,” She held up another finger. “We can try to have a relationship that isn’t going compromise either of our morals.”
Kelly was nodding, but in reality he wasn’t sure what to say. Choice one or choice two? Both had their merits. Both were satisfy one thing while forcing another to scream and whine. He hated decisions.
“Well, seeing as you’re the one who was such a gentleman before,” Tara said gently. “I thought it would be fair if you picked one of the options.”
Kelly thought about it, staring out a window at the end of the hallway to his left. The pitch black outside gave him no comfort, nor any answers. He bit his lip. God, what to do, what to do?
What would Sam have done? Kelly wished he knew. But then, after a moment of debate, Kelly realized that he didn’t care what Sam thought. Kelly wasn’t Sam. Why did he wish he was Sam so often? Perhaps because Sam would make a smart decision?
No; Kelly was tired of being the tail, and not the head. He was tired of being in someone’s shadow. He was through with it. And it was in that moment, Kelly made a strong, firm decision for the first time in his life. Justin Kelly would no longer walk alone. He might’ve been born alone, but he would not die alone. He looked back at Tara, whose features were still as beautiful as before when he spoke, without stuttering-
“Option two,” he said. “But with conditions.”
Tara nodded. “What conditions?”
“Firstly, we can’t get hung up on simple little things, like a kiss or something,” he said. “If you wanna take things slow, then say so, and we’ll do that. If you think I’m being too pushy, or if I feel that you’re pushing your religion on me, we agree to relax. Secondly, I want you to apologize to Stan for slapping him at Fred’s. He still ain’t too happy about it.”
“I would be only too happy to apologize to Stan.” Tara smiled. They stood there for a moment, letting the agreement hanging the air. “Okay then,” She said. “I’d better get going. I’ll be watching tomorrow.”
Kelly watched her go, and he felt something come off of his shoulders. He leaned against the door and sighed. Finally, it felt good to be a real man and make a strong decision.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
He couldn’t hear a thing. The room was dark since he had switched the lights off. The locker room resembled that of a soldier’s quarters before the big battle. Eerily quiet, a few lockers popped open, containing nothing. The room was warm, with Justin Kelly warming up by himself. He had asked for Sam and Bob to wait outside until the time for the fight came.
This was it, after all. This was the big show. There was no prize for just showing up for the fight. No, the only way Kelly was going to be able to revive Smalls from his untimely death would be by winning this fight.
Kelly circled an imaginary Axe, throwing out combos, hissing as every punch hit its target dead on.
His breathing quickened as he swung faster and faster. This was it. This was it. One fight away from the opportunity of a lifetime. This was it.
As he danced around in the locker room, his head was on the people out there, watching this tonight. Not the drunken fans that knew nothing about the sport, not the fans who barely knew Kelly at all. Sam and Bob. Stan and his girlfriend and their newly-born daughter. Tara. Kelly wasn’t doing this just for himself; he was doing for them, giving them something to love him for.
Axe had no clue what he was in for.
“Kelly?” the door swung open, and Sam was peeking in. Kelly stopped warming up and was surprised to notice that Sam was sweating as well. Could it have been that Sam was even more nervous about this fight than Kelly was?
Yes. But then Kelly recalled something. Smalls would’ve been nervous as well. Smalls was gone. Kelly was still living on, breathing and fighting. Kelly had no fear. Why should Kelly be afraid? Afraid that this man he didn’t know was going to tear him to shreds?
Kelly had already been through Hell. He’d seen the sites, took the tour, and crawled through the gates on his belly. How could Axe make what Kelly had already been through any worse than it had already been?
“It’s time, bro.” Sam smiled. “You ready?”
“Like never before.”
In the crowd, third row of reserved seating, Tara Fields, Stan Pullman and Lindsey McPhieron sat next to an empty seat. Tara and Lindsey were talking rapidly, trying to ignore the intimidating crowd of drunkards and imbeciles, all gathered to see someone get hurt in the ring. In his short time training with Kelly, Stan knew it was this type of character, the drunkard and the ignorant fool, that made MMA look like a bar room brawl.
Stan felt alone. Tara and Lindsay were too busy talking to each other, and Stan was sitting by himself, just trying to wait patiently for the start of the fight.
And then the lights dimmed, and the crowd was on its feet. Stan stood up, merely because he couldn’t see over the idiot sitting in front of him.
He saw Kelly making his way to the ring, already stripped down. That was unlike Kelly. Kelly wasted no time in having the officials slap on the Vaseline on his face, and then Kelly was in the ring, in his corner, bouncing back and forth, warming up, steeling himself for the war that was to come.
Silence. And then the lights were back up, a flaring, fiery color, and strobe lights then started to pulse, blinding Stan hideously. Everyone was starting to scream over and over again, “War Axe! War Axe! War Axe!”
The man that entered the ring after Kelly was huge, even larger than Stan could’ve imagined. How he managed to cut weight to even be in the same weight class as Kelly astonished Stan.
It astonished Tara and Lindsey as well. They both were in shock. “Oh my God,” Lindsey even said. “He’s huge!”
But Stan had some consolation as he glanced worriedly at Kelly. The boy seemed not to notice how much bigger Axe was than him. Kelly just wanted the fight to get started. He was like an animal in a cage.
Introductions were made then, and they started with Kelly. Twenty-six wins, twenty-one of those by knockout, with ten losses, only one by knockout. “Justinnnn…Smalls...Kelllyyyyyyy!” very few cheered for Kelly, who held up his hands in a simple manner as Sam and Bob both clapped for him at cornerside.
Stan was annoyed when someone, a chick, brushed by in front of him, blocking his view as she sat down next to him. He was about to turn and say something sour when he realized he was looking into the face of Elisa. His heart flared up then, and he swallowed automatically. “What are you doing here?” he shouted to be heard above the crowd.
Before she spoke, Stan heard the record for Axe: Thirty-seven wins, thirty by knockout, and only two losses. He wanted to pay attention to the fight, but Elisa’s presence was still staggering.
“Sam said you could use the company.” Elisa said. “I’d be lying if I said I just came to see your friend fight.”
She didn’t say anymore. Stan didn’t need her to. He did want to try something, however. As the crowd cheered when the introductions were finished, Stan reached over for her hand, taking it with his own.
She didn’t pull her hand. Staring straight ahead, she was looking into the ring. Stan saw why.
The fighters were being motioned to meet in the center of the ring. Everyone was going nuts.
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