Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(30)

“I thought you didn’t do pro. You sent Hutchins to a whole new gym when he wanted to transition.”

He shrugged. “Things change. I miss it, I guess. I love the amateur stuff, but the true talent makes the leap.”

“Exactly. And you choose to start with f*cking Bailey?” I snapped.

His eyes shot up to mine. “Excuse me? You got a problem, then spit it out, but don’t you dare catch an attitude with me.”

“Yeah. I got a problem. How much is he gonna make on that fight next month?” I was still pissed, but I dropped the majority of my attitude.

“Not much. Four or five hundred bucks.”

“Right. Not much,” I scoffed. “I’m easily your best fighter. If this was just something you were itching to do, why the hell wouldn’t you ask me? I need the money. Bailey’s a bum and you know it.”

“Till, you have more than enough on your plate right now without adding something else on top of it. Derrick’s chasing a dream. I’m not stupid. I realize that. Do I think you’re more talented than he is? Absolutely. But you have a family and responsibility outside of that ring.

“Do you have any idea how much time goes into fighting professionally? It’s not something you do for an hour or two every night after you get off work. At least it won’t be for any of my fighters. It’s a full-time f*cking job. Forty-plus hours a week. In this gym. Working out, sparing, studying, working out some more. You cannot afford to do that.”

“You managed, didn’t you? You’ve told me at least a dozen times how you had nothing except for your talent when you crossed over. You were just as broke as I am when you started. How the hell did you manage it?”

He finished wrapping my first hand, and I jumped up from the table, physically unable to sit still any longer.

“You’re right. I had nothing when I started. But you have something . . . in the form of two little brothers who depend on you to eat and keep a roof over their head.”

I hated every single word that came from his mouth, but I knew he was right.

I would have given anything to become a professional boxer. I’d shadowboxed that championship fight in the mirror a million times. It wasn’t just the money either. I knew that boxers didn’t make much in the beginning. But I was already broke, so it wasn’t like I’d have to get used to the struggle. No. This was about finally getting to do something that could really better my future. However, like most things, that wasn’t my life.

This was reality.

And I couldn’t even afford to dream.

“This is bullshit,” I mumbled to myself but settled back down on the table.

“Look, how about you increase your hours at the gym and we’ll reevaluate in a few months?”

“Increase my hours? I work close to sixty hours a week. Then I spend another twenty at the gym either cleaning shit to pay my dues or training. Where exactly would you like me to pull these extra hours from? I barely even have enough time to sleep as it is.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. You know I’d do damn near anything for you. But putting you into a professional ring without the proper training and watching you fail is not one of those things.”

“Right. I guess I just wasn’t aware Bailey was the next Muhammad Ali.” I was acting like a petulant child, but I was pissed and frustrated.

“That he is definitely not. But his daddy is funding his grand pursuit at going pro. It won’t hurt me one bit to watch him lose.”

“Well, maybe it should. He’s going to make you look like a fool as a trainer,” I bit out just as he finished wrapping my second hand.

I stomped to the door, and just as I pulled it open, I heard him say something else behind me that I couldn’t make out.

“What?” I let out an exasperated sigh and turned to face him, but he was already storming in my direction.

When he reached me, Slate used the heel of his hand to slam the door shut. Leaning into my face, he growled, “And that’s another thing. You would have to go to the f*cking ear doctor for your new physical. I set you up with a doctor and even prepaid for the appointment, but you still couldn’t seem drag your ass in to get your hearing checked.”

I blatantly rolled my eyes at his concern.

Stepping up, Slate bumped his chest with mine as he leveled me with a glare. “You know what? I’m done. I’ve let you throw a fit. You’re pissed. I got it. But I am not going to stand here and watch you act like a punk-ass kid. Remember who the f*ck you are talking to or march your ass out of my gym for good.”

We stood nose to nose staring at each other.

He was wrong. I wasn’t just pissed. I was jealous. Of him. Of Bailey. Of anyone who got to follow their dreams. Of the people who had money. And most of all, the people who didn’t have to crawl through f*cking windows just to feel a single minute of contentment in their lives.

But none of that was Slate’s fault. He might very well have been the closest thing to a father I’d ever had. But what blew my mind was why he did it. He was good to all the kids at the gym, but he had gone out of his way since day one to help me, then Flint, and now Quarry too.

“I’ll go to the doctor next week,” I promised.

“That’d be a good start.” He took a step away.

“And I’ll add a few hours on Sundays in the ring.”