8.

Ted arrived home and went straight to the freezer to find an ice pack for his nose. He took a seat on the couch a read a text from Talia asking how things had gone with Pop. Ted replied: As expected – I think he broke my nose.

Talia thought he was joking, so Ted sent her a selfie. That led to her coming over after work to see if it was broken.

Talia, still in work uniform, gently pressed her two thumbs along the bridge of his nose. ‘Stay still, would you?’

Ted grimaced. ‘Well take it easy, would you?’

She didn’t stop. ‘Oh, give me a break. I thought you were a tough guy?’

He sat on the edge of the couch with Talia standing in front of him making her assessment.

‘I don’t think it’s broken,’ she said. ‘Keep icing it. Should be fully healed by the time you fight Reggie Harrison.’

Ted laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’ asked Talia, sitting down.

‘Nothing.’ His smile lingered as he sat closer to Talia than people would normally sit. Her big eyes were fixed on him. ‘You wouldn’t know who Reggie Harrison was if he passed you on the street. Besides, I’m not there yet.’

Talia was blushing as the front door opened.

Mel stood at the door in jeans and a white T-shirt, dragging a suitcase beside her. ‘What the fuck, Ted?’

Ted stood up. ‘Mel, this is Talia. She’s … my nurse.’ He knew how much of an idiot he sounded.

‘Your nurse? I didn’t know it was fucking role-play night. Which is beside the fucking point – what’s she doing in our house?’

Ours again? ‘I hurt my nose. Talia’s been looking after Pop. I asked if she could take a look.’ Even though none of that was untrue he felt stupid saying it, knowing Mel wouldn’t believe him. ‘I don’t want the press finding out.’

Tears welled in Mel’s eyes, but fury was painted across her face. ‘You’re so full of shit!’ She glared at Talia. ‘Hope you have fun with him, slut.’

Ted started towards her. ‘Mel, please.’

‘Please what, Ted? I can’t believe you. I’ve been gone for thirty seconds and you have girls at the house, and you’re making huge decisions about your next fight without me. I find out by watching the news.’

‘Are you serious? I found out we’d broken up from the Daily Mail!’

Mel laughed. ‘Oh, so the Daily Mail is gospel now?’

Ted shook his head. ‘Don’t pretend you had nothing to do with that article.’

The door slammed shut, ending the conversation as abruptly as the bell ends a fight.

Talia stood up cautiously. ‘I should probably go.’

Ted leaned in and kissed her on the side of her mouth. It happened too fast for either of them to do anything about it. It was the first time Ted had ever kissed someone other than Mel.

‘I don’t think that’s a clever idea,’ said Talia, their lips still touching.

Ted kissed her again, and this time she kissed back. He was lost in the moment, the way it used to be when he was in the ring. There was only her body and his, nothing else. There was no Jacob from Boxing Australasia, no weigh-in, no desire to try something else.

Then Talia pulled back, and it was like the bell had rung again. Time to step out of the ring.

‘I’m sorry you had to see that,’ he told her.

Talia laughed. ‘I think it might have been different if I wasn’t here.’

‘Things haven’t been good with Mel for a while now.’ He looked towards the door. ‘I don’t love her anymore.’

Talia, cheeks bright red, placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘I think you need to make sure of that before you break your nose again.’

Once Talia left, he realised he was running late for the evening training session. He quickly packed his gear and jumped in the car. His phone rang through the car Bluetooth.

‘Hello, Tony.’

‘Little Boy Blue. I got you an opponent and a date.’ Tony was happier than usual, which usually meant he was looking forward to delivering some bad news, followed by his classic one-liner about how it is in the fight game.

Ted was also in a better mood than he usually was when talking to Tony. ‘Who’s the lucky bum you’ve given the opportunity to bash my skull in?’

‘Joe Bones. November twentieth.’

‘Joe Bones? The UFC dude?’

‘Bingo.’

Ted lifted both his hands from the steering wheel for a moment. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’

Tony barked through the phone. ‘Are you complaining? Ungrateful piece of shit. You should be thanking me. Now, because it will sell some tickets, you don’t have to fight for free. There’s two hundred and fifty thousand in it for you. If you win.’

Ted braked hard at a red light. ‘Why are you trying to screw me, Tony? I thought this was meant to be a walk in the park to cover your ass if I got my head knocked off at the big dance.’

‘Kid, this is nothing to do with me. Bones has done a deal with Kelton. He heard about what we were doing and wants in on the action. It’s business, Ted. That’s how it is in the fight game.’

Ted could feel Tony’s hot breath through the phone and taste the stale cigarette air that usually followed him. ‘What weight are we fighting at?’ he asked.

‘It’s an exhibition, so whatever you weigh in at, that’s what you’re fighting at. You better be training your ass off! Because nobody wants you to win more than I do, because you owe me some money!’

Tony hung up.

‘Hey, only six reps.’ Andrew bopped up and down behind Ted.

Ted didn’t stop. He pushed out another three squats and then lowered down for the tenth when his right leg buckled. He tried to recover, but he was already squatting too low to have any chance.

‘Drop it!’ said Andrew as he guided the weights bar to make sure it landed on the safety frame behind Ted.

Ted let the bar fall onto the frame and collapsed forward onto his knees.

‘What’s going on, Ted?’ asked Andrew.

Ted rose shakily and started walking in circles around the weight floor as his legs and heart recovered from the effort. Andrew waited for an answer. After a few laps, and with his breath under control, Ted answered. ‘Do you know Joe Bones?’

‘The UFC fighter? The guy looks nuts.’

‘Yeah. I’m fighting him in three months.’

Andrew’s brows lifted. ‘Well, that’s a curveball.’

Ted laughed. ‘Sure is. I was expecting a low-profile easybeat. Don’t get me wrong, I should have an advantage, but I’ve seen Bones connect some big punches. He’s a brawler.’

‘Not a small bastard, either. What are you thinking? It’s obviously eating at you.’

‘I’m just annoyed. Time was already against us, but at least if I was up against a boxer, I would’ve backed myself to outclass any of Tony’s guys … Bones is a spanner in the works. He’s strong, and seems fit. I don’t really know how he’ll adjust to boxing, but I’d back him against a lot of guys on the circuit.’

‘I’ll dig up some video on him,’ said Andrew.

Ted ignored him and nodded towards the weights. ‘Load it up again.’

‘Jacob Caro, welcome back to the program. I understand you have some news regarding Ted Taylor and his first heavyweight match-up?’

‘I do, Erica, and it’s bad news for Teddy. Aussie UFC cult hero Joe Bones will make his boxing debut, but don’t let that fool you. Any UFC fan will tell you Joe Bones is not a guy you want to be up against in any form of combat sport.’

‘The UFC, of course, is the Ultimate Fighting Cham­pionship, which in some circles has a reputation for being tougher than boxing. Is this a fair match-up for Taylor? I know he’s the boxer, but this was supposed to a stepping-stone into heavyweight.’

‘It’s not fair at all. Skill will only get you so far against Joe Bones. He’s a big, unorthodox fighter who’s ended a lot of UFC fights with his right hand. I’m not writing off Teddy Taylor just yet, and I’m excited to see him back in the ring without the weight constraints he’s carried lately. On the flip side, three months is nowhere near enough time to transition to the kind of shape he should be in for this fight. Joe Bones will be an aggressive, in-your-face opponent, and I predict that he’ll bully and overpower Ted in the same way he does most of his opponents in the octagon.’

‘Well, I’ve seen some of Bones’s highlights, and I have to agree with you, Jacob.’

‘As a boxing fan, I hate seeing UFC guys come in and think it’s easy, but what we do know is that Ted Taylor is capable of being one of the most disciplined fighters out there. He dismantled Jerry Walsh in one of the greatest defensive and counterpunching displays I’ve ever seen. He rewrote the record book on number of jabs thrown in a fight to completely negate Mario Gustavo’s attack. However, that was with the one and only Edward Taylor Senior – Pop Taylor, as we all know him – in his corner, an absolute genius of the sport. Now, I have one last twist for you. Ted will not be working with his grandfather on this fight. And if the rumour mill is anything to go by, Pop’s getting back in his son’s corner in hopes of helping Ron Taylor in his bid to become a three-time heavyweight champion.’

Ted locked his phone and decided he’d spent enough time stalling. He’d been parked on the street outside Pop’s house for fifteen minutes. He had started the car to leave twice, but each time he pressed the ignition button he knew he’d be turning it off again soon. He knew he had to confront Pop sooner or later. He massaged his swollen nose with his thumb and index finger, took a deep breath and then opened the car door. He took five steps towards the driveway when he realised he’d left a loaf of bread in the car and turned back to get it. If Pop didn’t have butter, Vegemite and toast, he’d probably go the entire day without eating.

Ted knocked on the door, but as he approached he heard the thuds of someone hitting the punching bag in the garage. He opened the unlocked door and headed to the internal door to the garage. ‘Pop, you have to take it easy!’

Pop was holding the punching bag and Ron was hitting it; both turned towards him as he stopped in the doorway.

‘So, Jacob Caro did know before me,’ said Ted. ‘Seems I’m the last to know a lot of things lately.’

Ron was breathing heavily and opened his mouth to speak, but Pop got in first. ‘We’re just working the bag, Ted. For old times’ sake.’

‘We were running out of shit to talk about,’ said Ron. A classic attempt at humour falling flat.

Ted shook his head. ‘Well, I didn’t expect you to two to sit around singing Cat Stevens.’

‘Sorry about your nose, Ted,’ said Pop. ‘Is it okay?’

‘Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.’ Ted exhaled and racked his brain for something to change the subject. ‘You should be taking it easy.’

‘I’m just holding the bag. Why don’t we go inside and talk?’

‘Fine.’ Ted turned and headed back inside. Pop followed, leaving Ron hulking before the bag, unsure if he should join them. Ted gave him an empty stare before turning around again. Ron resumed hitting the bag.

‘Is that the good stuff?’ said Pop, pointing to the bread Ted had left on the bench.

‘Yeah, straight from the oven.’

‘Good, I got some of that Wonder Bread shit from Coles in the freezer. It’s not the same.’

They ran out of small talk quickly, a family trait. ‘Just tell me what’s going on, Pop. Are you training him or not? I don’t care if you are.’

‘He’s been training at my gym because he doesn’t like Tony’s facilities. Kelton’s boys are all there. I guess that’s where Caro got his scoop. But Ted, I haven’t been down there since I went to hospital except to get some paperwork.’

It wasn’t Pop’s gym anymore. He’d sold his share of the sports complex to the council when they bought out the building for redevelopment. Pop still worked there as a manager and coach. They didn’t pay him well, but seeing as he mainly used the gym to train Ron and Ted, it wasn’t a bad deal. Every now and then Pop would have bursts of enthusiasm and get involved with some of the kids’ boxing programs or work with older guys who showed some promise.

Ted could hear the punching bag in the garage copping a flurry of heavy punches. ‘So, what are you doing in there?’

‘He came over because …’ Pop squeezed his left hand into a fist and then released it. ‘Well, I suppose because he wanted to … if that’s so hard to believe.’

Ted bit his tongue.

Pop sighed. ‘Without boxing we don’t have too much good news to share, so I thought I’d take him through a few things I saw in his fight with Leroy that might help.’

Ted stared him down. ‘You want to train him, don’t you?’

Pop tilted his neck to the right; it didn’t crack at first, but the second attempt got it. ‘Dammit, Teddy, I want to train you. I was watching this Bones guy yesterday and jotted down some notes.’ Pop must have read the expression on Ted’s face and stopped. ‘Teddy, I’m sorry about the other day. I’m sorry about the gambling too. And the medicine. I’ve been taking it … doesn’t seem to mess with my head as much as the stuff they had me on last time.’

Ted didn’t like seeing Pop like this, but he was waiting for him to apologise for the one thing Ted had been waiting a long time for. For holding him back his whole career.

Pop scratched the back of his head. ‘But seeing as you don’t seem all too interested in my help …’

‘It’s not that I don’t want your help,’ said Ted. ‘But I need to get into shape more than anything else. I’m working with Andrew Baker. Remember him?’

Pop nodded. ‘Thought you might. Well, you know where I am. I won’t stand in your way.’

Ted knew that wasn’t easy for Pop to say, but it was no apology.

Pop continued. ‘I got to make a living and clear my debts somehow. If Ron wants me, sure, I’ll say yes. I’m not letting you take that hit again.’

‘Consider yourself hired,’ said Ron, coming into the room breathing heavily. His grey T-shirt had a dark wet V of sweat down his chest.

Ted laughed. ‘Well, best of luck to you.’ He walked past them both on his way out the door.

‘Ted, wait,’ said Ron.

Ted kept walking.

He got halfway down the driveway when footsteps approached from behind. He said, ‘What do you want?’ and turned to face his father.

‘Don’t take your anger towards me out on him.’ Ron was unwrapping the wrist strap from his right hand.

‘What are you on about?’

‘Don’t bullshit me.’ Ron took a step closer. ‘Look, here’s how it is. I don’t blame you for hating me, but you have no reason to take it out on him. He wants to train you.’

Ted cut him off. ‘He wants me to be a middleweight.’

‘Well, you’ve taken that out of his hands. I’m proud of you for that.’

‘I need to spend my time in the gym, not in the ring. He’s all yours.’ Ted turned towards the car.

Ron’s thick fingers latched onto his shoulder and pulled him back around. ‘Well, don’t come around here making beef out of it if that’s how you’re gonna be.’

Ted pushed with an open palm to swat Ron’s arm away and stepped back. ‘I knew it would happen. Just didn’t expect to have to find out from your mate Caro.’

‘Why are you acting like everyone’s against you?’

Ted laughed. ‘Because it feels like they are. I’m fighting some monster who I don’t know shit about. And if I beat him, Reggie Harrison’s next. I need a year to prepare, and I only have three months.’ He pointed towards the house. ‘All because he held me back! All because he wanted me as far away from you and the ring as possible. He didn’t want you beating the shit out of me anymore!’

‘I’m not going to deny any of that. It’s true.’ Ron looked towards the house, then back at Ted. ‘But just like I’m here trying with you, he’s going to try with me, and I’m gonna let him.’

‘You’re trying, are you?’ Ted turned and walked to the car.

Ted arrived home with his blood already at a simmer. A familiar black Range Rover was in his driveway, and Ted had to park behind it with the rear of his car sticking out onto the footpath illegally. The four-wheel drive’s engine was running and he couldn’t see who was inside but he assumed Sonny Ferrari was burrowed in the back seat.

Ted tried to open the rear driver side door but it was locked. ‘Make it quick, Sonny.’

A short but heavily built goon in a black T-shirt opened the driver’s side door. ‘Hands off or I’ll break them.’

A taller version of the goon stepped out of the passenger side and walked around to stand beside his counterpart. They were mean-looking men, but Ted had spent enough time in rough boxing gyms and rougher streets to know he could break both their noses before they even clenched a fist. ‘You’ll break my hands, huh?’ He knocked on Sonny’s window harder than necessary. ‘Not sure this weasel would be happy about that.’

The taller goon shifted on his feet as Sonny’s window lowered. Sonny waved the man back like a dog. ‘Calm down, fellas,’ he said with infuriating arrogance, as if they were schoolgirls fighting over him. ‘How you doing, Little Boy Blue?’

‘I’m flying, Sonny. What’s with the goons?’

‘Maybe they just haven’t been able to beat nobody up lately with all this Covid shit going on and nightclubs closed. Itches need scratching, you know. Thought you might need some heavyweight sparring partners.’

Ted thought about how good it would feel to break the Gucci sunglasses and Sonny’s face at the same time. ‘Oh, I know.’

‘So, Tony got you a fight against big bad Joey Bones.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ted. ‘You heard of him?’

‘Well, that’s why I’m here. Not everyone has heard of Bones – boxing fans, anyway. Now, given Pop’s predicament, and your implication by association –’

‘Have you been practising this speech?’ interrupted Ted. ‘Big words.’

Sonny laughed. ‘Shit, Ted, you’re more like your old man than you know. Anyway, you wanna get paid? Then you need PPVs.’

Ted knew pay-per-views were the most tangible method of calculating how financially successful a fight was, the most important thing in boxing. He waited for Sonny to elaborate.

‘Tony wants a little extra salt and pepper at the press conference. You know the drill, Teddy. There’s not much of an undercard, so the success of this night comes down to your main event. Bones don’t need no prompting – he’s wild. But Tony’s worried about you being a stiff. You need to call Bones out, and call anyone who likes UFC a bitch. You like big words, Ted. Get creative. This isn’t Boy Blue versus Bones; it’s boxing versus UFC, and you need to make sure that’s what people are paying to see. Listen to me. I sound like Muhammad Ali!’

‘A text message would’ve sufficed,’ said Ted.

Sonny’s window was almost up when he got his final word in. ‘Sufficed. Very nice.’

The goons stepped back into the car, started the roaring engine and used the four-wheel-drive capability to complete a U-turn on Ted’s front yard rather than reversing out onto the street.