over to the elevator, the doors of which slid
open as soon as I approached. “What level is this thing happening on?” I asked.
“Eight.”
I got in and
pushed the button for the correct floor.
“What do I tell
Angel when he asks if your here?” Jai said, as the doors began to close.
“Tell him I’m not
some kid who needs to be told what to do all the time,” I said. “But tell him
I’m here, just like I promised.”
Angel
One of these days , I told myself for the hundredth
time tonight, I’m going to make the big
time. I’ll have a dressing room, and a manager that doesn’t cozy up to the mob,
and enough street cred to fight somewhere big. Vegas maybe, or Atlantic City.
I looked around at
the corner of the parking garage they’d told me was ‘mine’ for the night. A
shitty folding table held most of my gear, and my boxing gloves hung from the
back of a chair so old I didn’t dare sit in it. There was a bucket for piss and
spit, if I needed it, and a towel.
That was it.
I could hear the
grumble of the assembled crowd behind me. They were ready for a show, and that
was exactly what they were going to get.
“You ready?”
Jessie asked, sucking in air. The spot that were fighting was well lit, but all
of the rest of this place was shadows and stripes of light. My manager was a
fat, sorry sack of humanity, but he’d been picking fights well enough for the
last year or so, so I kept him.
Besides, there
wasn’t a whole lot of choice when it came right down to it. Most people
wouldn’t touch the stuff going down tonight with a ten foot pole.
“I am,” I told
him.
“Good,” he said,
his shifty eyes sliding this way and that. “Because, I’ve got some news. Just
remember though, before I tell ya, that you’re good. Damn good. Hell, I think
you could take a run at the title right now, if we didn’t have to wade through
all these shitty little contenders first.”
“What is it?” I
asked, ignoring his praise. Part of his job was to blow smoke up my ass, and
most of my job was to ignore it.
He held up his
hands, shaking his head back and forth. “Now, it don’t matter, but the Carello
family called a couple of minutes ago. Vinnie broke his hand or something, they
said, so they’re substituting another of their own for tonight’s fight.”
“Broke his hand,
huh?” I growled. The Carellos had a reputation for dirty schemes and even
dirtier tactics. This fit right in with everything I knew about them. “So who’s
the new guy?”
Jessie shrugged,
and I could tell he was trying to underplay the fighter I was going to face in
a couple of minutes, though whether that was for my benefit or that of my
manager I couldn’t really say. “Niko Krusev.”
“Nitro?” I grabbed
my gloves and put them on, holding my hands out for Jessie to lash tape around
my wrists to hold them tight. “Are you telling me that they’ve got Niko the
Nitro Krusev on their payroll now, and that he’s coming here?”
“No,” Jessie said.
“He’s already here… Been here for ten minutes or so.”
There were a lot
of things I wanted to do, but only
one that made any sense. Raging about the change or trying to pussy out of the
fight wasn’t going to help matters, and it would only hurt my reputation. In my
position, you shut your mouth and fought whoever they put in front of you,
which left me with only one question. “What are the odds?”
It looked like the
last thing Jessie wanted me to ask. He finished taping me up and mopped the
sweat from his shiny forehead with the back of one hand. “Odds don’t matter,
Angel. We both know that.”
“Tell me the odds,
asshole.”
Jessie shrugged.
“You were two to one against Vinnie, which was fine. Was always going to be an
uphill fight, but we’d watched the film. You’d have won. He’d have tired
himself out and you’d have weathered the storm.”
“And what are they
now?”
“You gotta
understand,” Jessie said, his voice undercut
open as soon as I approached. “What level is this thing happening on?” I asked.
“Eight.”
I got in and
pushed the button for the correct floor.
“What do I tell
Angel when he asks if your here?” Jai said, as the doors began to close.
“Tell him I’m not
some kid who needs to be told what to do all the time,” I said. “But tell him
I’m here, just like I promised.”
Angel
One of these days , I told myself for the hundredth
time tonight, I’m going to make the big
time. I’ll have a dressing room, and a manager that doesn’t cozy up to the mob,
and enough street cred to fight somewhere big. Vegas maybe, or Atlantic City.
I looked around at
the corner of the parking garage they’d told me was ‘mine’ for the night. A
shitty folding table held most of my gear, and my boxing gloves hung from the
back of a chair so old I didn’t dare sit in it. There was a bucket for piss and
spit, if I needed it, and a towel.
That was it.
I could hear the
grumble of the assembled crowd behind me. They were ready for a show, and that
was exactly what they were going to get.
“You ready?”
Jessie asked, sucking in air. The spot that were fighting was well lit, but all
of the rest of this place was shadows and stripes of light. My manager was a
fat, sorry sack of humanity, but he’d been picking fights well enough for the
last year or so, so I kept him.
Besides, there
wasn’t a whole lot of choice when it came right down to it. Most people
wouldn’t touch the stuff going down tonight with a ten foot pole.
“I am,” I told
him.
“Good,” he said,
his shifty eyes sliding this way and that. “Because, I’ve got some news. Just
remember though, before I tell ya, that you’re good. Damn good. Hell, I think
you could take a run at the title right now, if we didn’t have to wade through
all these shitty little contenders first.”
“What is it?” I
asked, ignoring his praise. Part of his job was to blow smoke up my ass, and
most of my job was to ignore it.
He held up his
hands, shaking his head back and forth. “Now, it don’t matter, but the Carello
family called a couple of minutes ago. Vinnie broke his hand or something, they
said, so they’re substituting another of their own for tonight’s fight.”
“Broke his hand,
huh?” I growled. The Carellos had a reputation for dirty schemes and even
dirtier tactics. This fit right in with everything I knew about them. “So who’s
the new guy?”
Jessie shrugged,
and I could tell he was trying to underplay the fighter I was going to face in
a couple of minutes, though whether that was for my benefit or that of my
manager I couldn’t really say. “Niko Krusev.”
“Nitro?” I grabbed
my gloves and put them on, holding my hands out for Jessie to lash tape around
my wrists to hold them tight. “Are you telling me that they’ve got Niko the
Nitro Krusev on their payroll now, and that he’s coming here?”
“No,” Jessie said.
“He’s already here… Been here for ten minutes or so.”
There were a lot
of things I wanted to do, but only
one that made any sense. Raging about the change or trying to pussy out of the
fight wasn’t going to help matters, and it would only hurt my reputation. In my
position, you shut your mouth and fought whoever they put in front of you,
which left me with only one question. “What are the odds?”
It looked like the
last thing Jessie wanted me to ask. He finished taping me up and mopped the
sweat from his shiny forehead with the back of one hand. “Odds don’t matter,
Angel. We both know that.”
“Tell me the odds,
asshole.”
Jessie shrugged.
“You were two to one against Vinnie, which was fine. Was always going to be an
uphill fight, but we’d watched the film. You’d have won. He’d have tired
himself out and you’d have weathered the storm.”
“And what are they
now?”
“You gotta
understand,” Jessie said, his voice undercut
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