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Barney poked a thumb at Jack’s brow, over the healing split from the bout with Ryan and Jack didn’t dodge away. “It’s not going to reopen?” Jack was a quick healer and grateful for it. That was the answer to question nine. “Why are you here so soon again?”
“I want to fight. If I wanted confession, would you turn me away?”
“I don’t do confession.”
Barney struck, drove his fist into Jack’s ribs, knocking his breath out on a hard grunt and making his torso curl into the unexpected pain. He had to stop himself begging for another hit.
“Satisfied?” He ground the word out, watching Barney’s timeworn face for the verdict.
“You’re off the list.”
“No, I need this.”
“Why?”
“Same reason as last time.”
“Not good enough.”
“I hurt someone today. I meant to do it. It was wrong, and when I tried to apologize it was only to realize what a good job I did at screwing with them. I made her think it was her fault and that I was entitled to treat her like shit.”
“You want to be punished?”
Barney was too clever. If Jack answered yes, he’d end up on the bench all night with that as his lesson in patience, tolerance and expecting the world to work in the order he wanted it to. “I just want to fucking hit someone.”
“I’ll think about it.”
And there it was, he was benched anyway. Learning humility, the old-fashioned way. Barney was a demonic genius. Jack watched fight after fight, and as the night wore on, he knew it would be smart to go home and work, but he kept feeling the moment Honeywell sidestepped, then gathered her courage and faced him, turned his apology back on him and fucking floored him with it.
She wasn’t defenseless. Whether she appreciated it or not, she’d swiped the ground out from under him. If he went home without exorcising some of that sting, he’d want to drink until he passed out. If Barney didn’t let him in the ring, he knew he could find a fight at a late-opening bar or a dealer’s street corner, but that option was a risk his career couldn’t afford, so he sat on, stewing over the words he should have used to treat Honeywell as a colleague, as a person he liked for her ability to take a hit and get back up again; to shake it off where he percolated.
It was almost midnight when Barney motioned him over. Paired him with a man he’d never seen before. The guy was bigger, heavier than Jack, but he looked nervous, glancing eye contact, couldn’t stand still, his movements more involuntary than any kind of adrenaline rush.
“Alvarez, Haley. Haley, Alvarez.” They touched knuckles. Barney clamped a hand on Alvarez’s shoulder and it seemed to settle him. “What’s your lesson, son?”
“Courage,” said Alvarez, eyes on his hands. Something Honeywell had by the container load.
“Haley?”
He’d had all night to think about it, but it wasn’t easy. Humility didn’t quite cover it.
“Jack?” Barney prodded with an amused twist to his fat lips.
“Generosity,” Jack said, knowing the perverse logic of this would mean the only way to win tonight would be to orchestrate it so Alvarez’s courage was tested, but didn’t fail. Barney did nothing to hide his laughter, not caring that it spooked Alvarez.
They gloved up. The church was virtually emptied out by the time they entered the pit. Alvarez looked like he’d rather run into a wall and knock himself out than take a swing at Jack.
“I’m here to get hit tonight,” Jack said by way of encouragement. He opened his arms wide. Generous to his own detriment. “Go for it.”
Alvarez took a step back and dropped his hands. “I’m not going to hit someone who won’t hit back.”
Jack should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. The only way to win tonight was to hit Alvarez hard enough to wake his courage. Jack took two steps forward and gut-punched Alvarez hard enough to make the man stagger. His own stomach flipped as the moment felt too much like what he’d done to Honeywell. It was enough to prove to Alvarez that Jack wasn’t messing around.
They traded punches, went four rounds, with Jack landing more hits, but having to work to avoid letting too many of Alvarez’s haymakers land. The guy had a colossal reach and he wasn’t tiring. The longer they went at each other, the more focused Alvarez got, the more punches Jack landed, the more eager to strike Alvarez was. There wasn’t going to be a knockdown here, they’d both be staggering before Barney called them off unless Jack forced things.
“Who’d you fail, Alvarez. Who’d you let down?” he taunted, dancing out of reach.
Alvarez came after him, forcing Jack to keep backing up. “Shut up.”
