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As Frankie began to explain, I allowed myself to glance over to the gym members we currently had, and they were already whispering and gossiping among themselves about Bones. Were they saying nice things about him? Talking about his amazing skill as a fighter? Or were they talking about his past? My guess was that they were talking shit and watching for the spectacle about to begin.
After pairings were made, the men started warming up and preparing to fight. Frankie came to sit with me near the main ring in the center of the room. Even though we weren’t focusing on boxing any longer, I didn’t have the heart to get rid of the rings. For nostalgia purposes alone, I had decided they would remain, and we’d save the cages for the actual matches. We had two other rings, but the larger one was where we planned to try out the hopefuls.
Even before he slid into the seat, Frankie’s anger was radiating from his face. I already had an idea of what it might be about.
“What the fuck is Bones Vega doing here?” he hissed into my ear. “I thought I made myself clear on what I felt about him. Do you really think that we need someone like that as part of our gym?”
I sucked in a few deep, soothing breaths, not wanting to scream all the obscenities that were currently racing through my head. I wanted to try and do this calmly, to get this through his stubborn brain in a way that didn’t end with us yelling in one another’s faces again.
We still hadn’t fucked and made up from our last fight, which was dangerous. We were both a ticking bomb waiting to explode. Frankie was a man who needed simmering down, and the best way to do it was with the wetness of my pussy. Crass as it was in thinking, it was what worked for us. We bickered. We had amazing sex. We bickered again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
“Frankie,” I said as coolly as possible. “That stuff with his past happened in the past. And nothing was exactly proven. There wasn’t some sort of trial where he was found guilty. So we don’t even know what truly happened. We need to give him a shot at a tryout regardless. We need a solid fighter who has a chance at actually winning and scoring us invites at the upper-tier events. He’s our best shot at it.” I didn’t wait for him to argue. “And I really think you already know this. I think you out of all people know what a great fighter he was, and most likely still is. Completely undefeated. He just made a mistake. That’s all. One that I’m sure he’s learned from.”
My solid arguments—most of which were assumptions on my behalf—were purely for Smiley’s sake. During my research, I’d watched videos of Bones in his heyday, and he really was incredible. If any of that talent was still there, then he was exactly what we needed.
“Just give him a chance. If he isn’t the best, then that’s fine. But if he is, I really think we need to give him a shot. My gut tells me Bones Vega will be exactly what Smiley’s needs to keep our damn doors open.”
“You don’t need to have him join the gym if you just want to fuck the guy,” he said, glaring at Bones from across the room. There was no jealousy in the words, just pure loathing for the man.
“It’s not about fucking him, and you know it. I watched him fight the other night.”
“The other night was amateur hour.”
“Regardless, he won. He is fucking amazing to watch in the cage. The way he moves, the way he counters each fist or kick… I was hypnotized. Which means that he’ll sell tickets. Which means that event organizers will want us. We won’t have to beg or have you cashing in favors for an invitation. People will come to us.”
Frankie swerved his eyes back to the ring where two men were getting ready to fight, and he sent me a sharp nod. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll give him a chance, but I’ll be harder on him than all of the others, purely because I think he’ll be a PR nightmare. And he also has the potential of us getting killed simply by being caught up in the crossfire. My name can only keep us safe for so long. That guy fucked up. He broke the code and threw a fight. To me, and to powerful others, that’s the lowest of the low. But for you”—his face softened—“I’ll at least let him get his ass kicked today.”
I couldn’t help but agree that throwing a fight is one of the lowest moves ever in not just cage fighting, but boxing. My father would feel the same way as Frankie. Taking on someone with such a tarnished reputation would be really hard work, but I instinctively felt like he’d be worth it all. I had the impression Bones would bring in so much money, it would all be all right in the end.
