ONE
KINGSTON
Crack.
The blow lands hard enough to make my mask ring.
“Shit.” I hear Lanz gasp. “Shit. King, are you okay?”
The world spins. Dimly, I see Lanz pulling off his mask and drop his foil. I take a staggered step, getting my bearings.
“I’m fine.” I force my hand steady enough to slip off my own mask and feel the telltale throb of something liquid pouring over my lips and chin.
Nosebleed.
“Jesus Christ.” Lanz goes pale as he sees me. Callahan looks left, grabs a towel from a bench, and hands it to me.
I take it and hold it to my face, but don't leave the strip. “Thank you.”
Pressure. I need to apply pressure.
"God, King, I'm really sorry. I should have checked my?—“
"Lanz," I interrupt him firmly. "It's fine."
"It's not fine," Callahan says in his low, steady voice. "You're bleeding all over the place."
I press the towel harder. "It happens," I say. "I'm used to it."
"King, you should?—"
"I said I'm fine." I don't mean to snap, but I wish they would justlistento me when I tell them the truth. I swallow, clamping the muscles of my hand tighter. The blood keeps coming. I can taste it in my throat, feel it wicking into the towel.
"You should lean your head back?—”
“Forward,” I correct Lanz. "Forward's better. Just give me a moment."
They do. I keep my breathing steady and the pressure even and hard. And gradually, I feel it subside.
"All right." I wipe my face with the towel and toss it gently to the side. "Let's keep going."
Lanz and Callahan look at each other. They don't move.
"Kingston," Lanz tries again.
"I said I'm fine," I bark. "It's fine. Please, can we just?—"
"Hey," Callahan says, stepping slightly between us. "Let's take it down a notch."
The salle goes silent, tense. Just the sound of breathing, the distant clank of radiators. Lanz works his jaw. He looks at me, eyes tight and intent, then shakes his head slowly.
"You always do this, man,” he mutters.”
"What?" I say—again a bit sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just..." Lanz sighs, his shoulders dropping. "How long are you going to keep saying things are fine when they're obviously not fine? I mean, for Christ's sake, King. You're literally bleeding out and acting like nothing is wrong. It's just so..." He runs his fingers through his hair.
I let out a metered breath, try to keep my composure. "I appreciate your concern," I say, "but I've told you, it happens, and?—"
