“How’s the leg?” Kyla asks, looking a little green.
“Fucking terrible.”
Outside, the crowd is roaring.
We’re in an old warehouse in Brooklyn. A thousand people. But the turnout is not the only thing different between Vito’s fights and the Little Fights. This is a thousand very rich men here tonight. Bankers and lawyers don’t only frequent gentlemen’s clubs in New York, they also like to see the less fortunate bash each other’s brains out like the true dogs they really are. It makes the bankers feel better about themselves.
The odds were eight-to-one against me. But Vito made sure rumors were spread about my leg and he got those up to ten-to-one.
Vito made sure his bookies dissuaded high bets on me so that he wouldn’t go broke if I win. When I win.
But last night was a bitch. Last night something happened with my leg and I can’t even tell you what it is. I was walking down the stairs of the hotel, trying to warm it up, and it gave way, simply gave way and I fell and tumbled to the ground. Fortunately, there were only three more steps to the ground and I didn’t hurt myself, but the pain which shot through me was maddening.
Jenny was in town already, and she insisted I get X-rays. They didn’t find anything, and then the doc gave me a bunch of theories about what it might be but none of it made sense.
I know what it is, and knowing it doesn’t make it hurt any less. It’s the same as the fear in my stomach I feel before every battle, the same as the sweat that breaks on my skin, the same as my clammy palms. It’s all in my head. And it nonetheless hurts my body.
I’ve refused the painkillers. They’ll dull me, and Kaiser is sharp as a Ginsu tonight. And he’s taken a personal interest in ‘crippling him, and if that bell goes off, I’m gonna kick him and kick him and kick him in his fucking leg so that he never fights again in his whole scheiss life!’
Those were Kaiser’s words. No doubt Vito made sure all the minute details of my injury were made known to the enemy camp. He runs the books, and the only time a bookie wins is when nobody else wins.
Kyla rubs my leg up with a deep heat lotion, but it only seems to sensitize the fucking thing even more. The damn thing has been throbbing worse and worse the closer it came to fight time.
Kyla’s on her knees in front of me. She puts her hands on my thigh and brings her forehead down to the top of it.
I’m shaking, even though the damn changeroom is so warm.
I have my own changeroom tonight. So does Kaiser. The other guys are all sharing.
I run my hand through Kyla’s hair, trying to ignore the agony pulsing through every fiber in this damn leg.
She presses her lips down against my skin, doesn’t say a word.
We hear the announcer in the distance. “And now, calling all the way from Scandinavia. He’s tall, he’s angry, he’s sharp and furious. Welcome, Thor, the God of Thunnnnnderrrrrrr!”
“How many more?” Kyla asks.
“My fight’s after this one.”
She doesn’t tell me she’s scared, even though I can see in her eyes that she is.
I lift her up, put her on the bench next to me. Her fingers slide between mine, and she holds my hand tight, her palm drenched with sweat.
“This is my last fight,” I tell her.
“OK,” she whispers.
“I mean it. The last one.”
“It’s who you are,” she says.
“No, who I am is the guy who wants to be with you.”
She nods, trying not to weep.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I say.
She bites down on her bottom lip, nods more furiously, fighting like a trooper to keep her tears back.
We sit there, staring at the wall in front of us, saying nothing, just waiting, waiting, waiting.
And then the announcement begins.
And it’s time.
“He cares for nobody. He hates everybody. He is the tyrant, the dictator, the warmonger and the hater of all who cross his path. Weighing in at a colossal two-hundred-and-ninety-three pounds of muscle, he is the merciless, loveless, faithless and treacherous—all heil the fuehrer, Juergen KAIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSERRRRRRRRRRR!”
The crowd goes fucking ballistic. He is already the winner in their eyes, the one they’ve all put their money on. And they want him to crush me.
“I’m up,” I say. “I want you to be there with me.”
“What?”
“I want you to walk through the crowd, all the way to the cage. Please.”
I pull Kyla by the hands and pull her to the edge of the crowd and to the top of the makeshift aisle. Bright lights shine down on us and men throw howling catcalls when they see Kyla at my side.
The announcer pauses for a second, never having seen such a thing before.
I try and keep my limp hidden, and just doing that is making the pain worse.
“And now, weighing in at a lesser two-hundred-and-fifty-six pounds. He pays his debts and he expects others to. And when they can’t pay, he makes them pay!” Some people cheer, others boo loudly.
Vito’s crowd doesn’t seem to like me at all. Likely many of them were here when I was supposed to throw the fight with Kaiser all those years ago.
“He collects his dues and pays them in kind. And the last man in his debt is the Kaiser himself. He is the tax man’s worst enemy, he is all the way from London, Eeeeeeeengllannnnnd. He is the untiring, relentless, obstinate and passionate—DEBBBBBBBBBBBBT COLLECTORRRRRRRRRRRRR.”
More boos. Some of the girls cheer.
I walk, not run, to the ring, Kyla at my side, her hand in mine, the crowd roaring and howling an equal mix of praise and loathing.
I don’t realize when Kyla lets my hand go, because by the time I’m only feet away from the cage, something almost spiritual happens, the same thing that happens every time I’m at this point, every time I have to face up to my demons inside that cage: The world disappears. The pain disappears. It’s only me, my fists, my enemy, and Ailee.
No one else.
But this time, this time, there is someone else: Kyla.
I walk through the cage door.
Kaiser’s eyes are fixed on my leg. He points at it, and makes a motion of snapping bone, smiling, grinning. Then he turns to the crowd, makes the same bone-snapping motion.
The crowd...explodes.
“KILL HIM!”
“BREAK HIM APART!”
“FUCK HIM UP, KAISER! FUCK THAT LITTLE ENGLISH BASTARD UP!”
There’s one mistake this crowd is making. One. I was not raised in privilege. I’ve had to fight for everything I have. I fought when things were bleakest, when there was no hope, when there was nothing going for me.
What this crowd doesn’t realize is this: I do my best when I’m being pushed down.
And there’s only one rule in a fight, one rule in life. You play to win, or you’d better not play at all.
The bell rings.
Kaiser charges.