The Aftermath (The Hurricane, #2)(70)

As far as I could tell, they were yes-men who changed from week to week. Sure he had a longtime trainer, like I had Danny, but the rest of them came and went. He was renowned in his downtime for attending clubs, celebrity parties, and high-profile events, his friendship with a few notorious rappers making him as infamous as the boxing did. There were always at least two models hanging off his arms. Shit, even at the weigh-in, he had half his entourage around him.

I listened to all of them, him included, talk shit about what I was bringing to the table. It was a time-honored boxing tradition to try and break each other mentally before a fight. My temper was usually on a hair trigger, but I’d perfected the art of looking bored shitless at weigh-ins, which usually succeeded in riling up my opponent. I think I might I have even thrown a yawn in midway through Temple’s rant.

I didn’t want any of that shit. Sure, I wanted to be successful to give my girl a better life, so that I could take care of her. But I was the lucky son of a bitch who got to do that by doing what I loved. And I f*cking loved the fight. Temple boxed with his head. He was what Danny called a “technical” fighter. His technique was flawless. Combine that with his size and fitness and the guy was a machine.

I ran my fingertips over the tattoo across my chest. “A champion is someone who gets up when they can’t.—Jack Dempsey.” I wasn’t a technical fighter. I was a wild card, always would be. When I got knocked down, when my ribs were bruised and every single part of my body felt f*cking broken, I got back up. When the fight was over and all hope of victory was lost, I got back up. Heart is what got me a shot at the world heavyweight title, not fear or anger, but heart. In the end, it’s why I would win. Because when his head told Temple it was all over, my heart would still be telling me to get back up. Losing was done when you listened to your head; winning was done when you listened to your heart.

The longer I watched Leon work his way through sparring partners, the more I imagined in my head how the fight was going to go down. I was f*cking hungry for this. Temple had no idea what I was capable of, but he was about to find out. I was ready to hurt and keep hurting until Temple went down and stayed down. Whatever happened tonight, I was coming home with that title, not for Em, not for Danny or any of the boys, but for me.

*



“You ready, son?” Danny asked as he sat down on the bench next to me. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Southside, like most gyms, was nonsmoking. Apparently that rule didn’t apply to Danny on either side of the Atlantic.

“I’m ready, Danny. I can’t explain why. A few weeks ago, Frank was all I could think about. Now it just feels like this is my time. Like everything that’s happened has made me who I need to be to win this fight.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Winning ain’t about who deserves it, it’s about who fights harder for it. So when you get in that ring tonight, you just remember that we’re right behind you, and you keep fighting until it’s done.” I smiled at him, and he scowled back.

“This fight is mine, Danny. I’ll make you proud of me. I promise.”

“Kid,” he said, standing up and taking another drag of his cigarette, “I’ve always been proud of you. Title or no title, that ain’t gonna change.” He patted me on the back and walked away.

There was a lump in my throat as I thought over what he’d said. When I was a kid and Danny had made us go to church, I couldn’t help feeling resentful that God had given me a shitty mother. It never occurred to me until now that he’d actually blessed me with a pretty amazing father. One who never held me back or pushed me too hard, but one who also never lost faith in me and showed me the way. It was because of him I knew what kind of dad I wanted to be someday.

*



There were so many people around that it was like being backstage at a concert. Everyone I passed seemed to want my autograph. When we finally made it to my dressing room, Kieran shut the door behind us, and no f*cker was allowed in.

“Shit. This is a bit fancy, ain’t it?” Tommy commented. Tom and Liam enjoyed the TV and leather sofa but the rest of us weren’t interested. They turned the volume on the TV off as they settled in, and I appreciated it. Half the preparation in any fight was getting into the zone. I warmed up, stretched, and shadowboxed.

It was only once Danny started taping up my knuckles that he gave me the pep talk. “This ain’t no exhibition anymore, son, and this guy ain’t going down without a fight. Now you and me, we’ve come a long way this last year, but that don’t change who we are or where we’ve come from. He’s tough, but you’re tougher. He’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders and nowhere to go but down. Well, you’re gonna help him get there real quick.

“This fight ain’t gonna be pretty. But when you’re done, you’ll be the kid from the streets who came from nowhere to become the greatest heavyweight fighter in the world. So you ready to make history, Con?”

“Yes sir,” I replied in all seriousness. I was done with watching Temple keep my title belt warm. This was my time and f*ck Temple for not realizing that. When Danny was done with the tape, I stood up and shook out my legs as Kier got the pads ready for me to warm up. I was surprised when the television went off. Tommy and Liam looked restless and more nervous that I was.

“You okay?” I asked them.