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Chapter 9
Ari
By the time the tryouts were done, there was no denying the outcome. Bones completely overshadowed every fighter in the room.
No one even had a chance getting a full punch to his face or even his gut. The man could move like a damn god, and the power from one of his hits was enough to knock one of our better fighters out cold, even with a head piece on. By Bones’ second fight, I tried not to laugh at the way the other fighters clearly didn’t want to step in the ring with the man.
I couldn’t blame them. Bones dominated.
Even after his hiatus, and not at his best, the man was without a doubt a beast. He moved away from every punch and kick the same way a matador would gracefully dodge a charging bull. His footwork, his speed, his laser-eyed focus, made the man nearly untouchable.
And his body… his body.
Watching each inch of his body glisten with sweat, the way his tattoos artistically highlighted the contours of each muscle, and the V-shaped curvature of his abdomen that led straight to the waist of his shorts. I would be a damn liar if I didn’t admit to fantasizing for a few moments where exactly that V led and what I would find there.
Mouthwatering.
The man was absolutely, without a doubt a specimen of perfection.
Even with all of Frankie’s arguments, he was clearly impressed by how Bones fought. And I had no doubt Frankie knew as well as I did that Bones Vega was exactly what we needed for the gym and to regain our reputation that we produced winners. A sure bet.
I hadn’t seen a fighter with so much raw potential mixed with years of training inside Smiley’s since my father had been alive. He had trained Frankie, and Frankie had truly been the best. If it hadn’t been for so many bad hits to the head, Frankie still would be unstoppable. But now, we had fresh meat. The famous Smiley Dexter would have been honored to train Bones Vega. I absolutely knew it.
“So…” I asked Frankie, a teasing tone in my voice. “Who do you think is best?”
He gave me a look, one that suggested he really didn’t want to admit that he had been wrong. He wasn’t great at conceding to anyone, and briefly, I had the sinking feeling he might choose someone else just to spite me.
“Give Vega a contract,” he growled, refusing to make eye contact with me as he spoke. “But if he fucks up, and it affects Smiley’s and your father’s name and legacy, that’s all on you.”
Frankie’s response was unsurprising. He didn’t like to admit he was wrong. And though it was clear he didn’t like Bones, he was still wise enough to know what was best for this business. It was why, on his deathbed, my father had asked Frankie to watch over me and help run this business. My father had trusted Frankie more than any person in his life, and the same could be said about me. Yes, the man infuriated me most of the times, but I fucking loved him. I trusted him. And I knew, that though he was a man of few words and wouldn’t admit it to me, he felt the same way about me.
Frankie would die for me and this business.
And if Bones was the best thing for this business, Frankie would lay down his sword.
Still, I was pretty sure Bones would be worth it. Oddly, I had full confidence in him. There was no way someone could have so much, and fall so far from grace, without learning something. In my research, I read he went to rehab to ‘beat his demons’. So, I had no choice but to believe he had.
“I understand,” I told Frankie seriously, “but it’ll be fine. You can trust me to handle it… to handle him.”
My heart fluttered excitedly as I watched Frankie go down to have a talk with the fighters. He would take the newbies aside and tell the men who didn’t make it they weren’t going to be a part of the gym, probably asking them to come back next time Smiley’s opened up for members, leaving the good news to me. I got to offer Bones Vega his second chance at life.
I hoped he grabbed onto it and wouldn’t fuck it up.
There was no denying I still feared Bones might shut me down when he was faced with an official offer. He might have only come to test the waters. He might not actually want to get back into it seriously… especially considering what he’d said about his father. Who would look after him if Bones was on the road for extended periods attending matches and other promotional engagements? Most trainers, managers, gym owners, and promoters weren’t exactly concerned with their fighter’s personal lives—since fighting for ungodly amounts of money was to become your only life—but I’d have to make allowances with Bones.
