Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(63)

It was packed with standing-room only, and even though it was the middle of fall in Chicago, it might as well have been a broiler room. Quarry was sweating his ass off inside that hoodie, but he refused to take it off.

“Leo!” Flint shouted from our reserved seats in the front row.

“’Sup, man.” He leaned across metal barricade to shake Flint’s hand. “Hey, Eliza.”

“I didn’t know you guys were coming,” I said, returning Leo’s friendly hug.

“Are you kidding? We’ve been waiting a long time for this.” He pointed up to the balcony, where Sarah and Erica were waving enthusiastically.

I tried to cover how touched I was that they were all there to support Till. “Thank you,” I whispered to Leo as I returned their waves with both hands.

His eyes warmed as he watched me fight back tears. I was a mess. Even more than usual. It was such a huge moment for Till. I was entitled to be emotional.

“Did Liv come?” Quarry asked, jumping to his feet.

“Nah. She’s not into the whole boxing thing. Whoa! Q, did you wet your pants?” He started laughing as he looked down at where the hoodie had ridden up.

“No! Eliza made me spill pop. I swear!”

Flint laughed hysterically beside him.

“Right.” Leo winked. “Fight’s about to start. I’m handling Slate’s security tonight, so let me know if you have any problems.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

He glanced back down at Quarry’s pants and chuckled to himself as he walked away.

Just as Leo disappeared around the corner, the arena went crazy. We were all looking around to figure out what we were missing when the crowd started chanting, “Slate.” Even through the chaos, I spotted Till the second they started toward the ring. I wasn’t even sure the fans in attendance even realized he was there at all.

But I did.

Wearing a red robe with the logo I had drawn sewn across the back, I watched “The Silencer” Till Page crawl through the ropes. Staggering pride forced tears to my eyes. Flint must have seen it, because he tossed an arm around my shoulders and pulled me up against his side. However, judging by their faces, both boys were just as overwhelmed by that moment as I was. Their big brother was a professional boxer, and even if it was only that one fight, he’d made it big time in their eyes.

Four rounds later, Till won his very first fight by unanimous decision.



“How much money did you make?” Quarry asked Till when we made it to the dingy locker room after the fight.

“He didn’t make anything,” Slate answered. “But I made six hundred bucks.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You didn’t make anything?”

“Nope. I don’t get money until I make more than what Slate pays me every month.”

“Well, that blows!” Quarry exclaimed.

Slate began cutting the tape off Till’s hands. “All right, so I talked to a few of the promoters before the fight. I got you set up for three more four-round fights. Once every thirty days. Hundred and fifty bucks per round. You good with that?”

“Yeah. Definitely,” Till answered quickly.

“After that, we can move up to six-rounders and hopefully get you in the ring with some decent opponents with a larger purse.”

“What happened to that possible fight in New York you mentioned the other day?”

“Well, he was willing to take a chance on you as long as I did a f*cking meet and greet before the fight. I hung up on him.” Slate paused uncomfortably. “Listen, I’m sorry about that bullshit on the way to the ring. This is part of the reason I always hesitated to come back as a trainer. Eventually, the novelty of me being back in the business will wear off and people won’t even notice I’m there anymore, but for the next few months, I worry that it might just be the way things go.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Till answered. “Really. It doesn’t bother me. You forget that I’m a Slate Andrews fan too. Well, I was . . . until you almost killed me by forcing me around the track in jeans.” He gave Slate a one-sided smile I recognized as genuine.

“So, when does Till get to the big money? I refuse to believe that Erica has a bodyguard and you made six hundred bucks a fight,” Quarry asked, hopping up onto the table next to Till.

Slate laughed, shaking his head. “I guess that all depends on who he fights. Who he beats. Who he loses to. I’m gonna do my job and get him the fights. The rest is up to Till.”

“So, he gets paid per round? What about if he knocks someone out?” Flint asked from the corner.

“Promoters want a good show so they can sell tickets. Knockouts are nice, but what keeps people happy is feeling like they got their money’s worth. So the opening fights get paid per round. After that, you get paid based on your contract that’s negotiated in advance. Win or lose. Decision or TKO, it doesn’t matter at that point. The established fighter makes majority of the money, and the opponent makes significantly less.”

“Wait . . . what?” Flint stepped closer. “Even if he wins, he still gets paid less money? Shouldn’t the loser make significantly less?”

“It doesn’t work like that. See, the goal is to become the champ. It’s not just the prestige. There are a lot of zeros on the back of that belt that keep people in that ring.”