Beautiful Broken Promises(7)

“Where?” he whispered.

“Tijuana. The usual.”

“Let me transfer some money over for you,” he stated nonchalantly.

“No, seriously I’m good. I can take care of this myself.”

“I’m sure you can. But I also know that these trips come close to wiping you out. You don’t want to be broke once you actually get her back, do you?”

I knew that this was why Audrey fell for Jace. He was completely selfless and would help any of his friends or family, even to the point of hurting himself. I could always count on him when I was in a bind, regardless if I’d asked for help or not.

“I’ll pay you back. With interest,” I replied brusquely.

“You just make sure Ethan gets Nolan to sign on the dotted line and that’ll be payback enough,” he said with a grin. He reached his hand out so I could shake it but then promptly pulled me in and we swiftly patted backs.

“Thanks, man.”

Before he made it to his room, he turned and said, “Bring her back here, okay? I want to meet her.”

I nodded but didn’t reply. I tried to never go into these trips with my hopes up anymore. Years of returning home empty-handed had taught me that, in order to guard my heart, I always had to expect the worst.





- TWO -

Bouncing on my toes, Mateo continued to wrap my hands for me. The basement we were standing in was dark and smelled of piss and mold. A single rusting light dangled above us, allowing Mateo just enough visibility to get his job done.

All I wanted was to get this over with. I hated coming to these things. Training in a well-lit gym where I knew I wouldn’t catch hepatitis was fun. Fighting in these sketchy underground matches f*cking blew and made my skin crawl.

“Have you seen him yet?” I asked.

“I saw two of his guys. He’s here,” Mateo responded under his breath.

“I don’t think I’ve been training enough lately. Shit, Teo...” I rambled nervously.

“You look pretty f*cking cut. More so than the last time I saw you, so you must be doing something right.” He nudged my right hand down and pulled up my left to begin wrapping it.

I watched as he slipped the loop around my thumb and wound the red material over my wrist, between each finger, over my knuckles in a dizzying pattern, and finished with a final pull over my wrist.

“How’s the support in your thumbs?” he asked.

I shook out my hands and flexed my fingers, feeling everything out. I allowed the blood to flow through each appendage before I cut it off swiftly with a tight fist and then opened them again. Sweat beaded in the small area between my shoulder blades and I could feel a single drop running down the center of my spine toward the black shorts I was wearing.

“Feels good, man.”

“Okay, just remember you’re not here for the same reason as these other guys,” Mateo began the same speech he’d given to me time and time again. “You don’t need to fight to the death. If you’re injured, just go down. Winning doesn’t matter. You just need to get into the ring once so we can get into the after-party.” He took my hands and checked his wrapping job one more time. “But... if you win, we do get bottle service, so it wouldn’t hurt if you tried a little bit,” he smarted off. I laughed despite the stress and jabbed his shoulder lightly.

I looked forward to the day when I wouldn’t have to come to these fights anymore. I enjoyed boxing, don’t get me wrong. The sport was exhilarating and the best workout I’ve come across so far, but I hated these underground fights. I hated the people and all of the dealing and betting that they did on the side of the ring. Conniving bastards. I hated being associated with them for even for a night. What’s worse, the fights were only a distraction from the real criminal undertakings they had going on.

“Don’t try to pull any new fancy techniques. Stick to what you’re good at,” Mateo continued as we walked down the long, filthy hallway. The tile was cold and the walls were peeling down to the bare wood behind it. The moldy smell was nauseating. “Most of these guys are brawlers and they lack the finesse you’ve been trained to have. You gotta lose some of that in the ring or they’ll be suspicious. Throw all of your power and energy into your hits. Don’t get too caught up in mastering your footwork.”

The loud roar of the crowd began to invade our ears and it became harder and harder to hear Mateo’s counsel. Without thought, I commenced bouncing again. My blood was pumping, the crowd starting to hype me up. I was the underdog—the one who popped in and out of these events but never stuck around long enough to take it all. They knew me, but they didn’t know me. I intrigued them, and they never knew whether to cheer me on or boo me out of the ring.