Page 27 of Last Round

“Unless he’s calling to say thisIl Duceguy can’t compete and they are eyeing one of our fighters to take his place, not sure how it’s good for us.”

“Gideon didn’t get into the gritty details, but apparently there was some sort of falling out with his coach. They need someone, fast.”

I stare at Sean, hoping he’ll get to the fucking point.

“You know, you’re really fucking dense sometimes. He wants you.”

“Me?” My hackles instantly rise.

“Of course. Apparently, his fighter is a huge fan and when he heard you had a gym, he insisted on doing his training camp here and that you coach him.”

“I don’t know.”

Something about this doesn’t feel right. Yes, I’m a former champ, who happens to be running a gym. But just because I used to be on top doesn’t mean I know shit about teaching. As of now, we have yet to coach anyone who’s been able to go the distance. We’ve only been in operation for five years. If I were this guy, I’d want a proven coach. There are several top-notch, established MMA gyms on the east coast. With trainers even I dream of training with. I’d want one of them. Not someone I’ve never met, with zero experience.

“What’s there to know?” Sean doesn’t seem to share my concern. “This is what we need. He’s already on his way to the finish line. We just have to help nudge him over.” He demonstrates his point by gesturing with his hands.

“Can I sleep on it?”

“What’s there to sleep on? You should be packing your bags and on the next flight out to Jersey.”

“Yo, Dec!” I call out the doorway.

Declan nods before jogging over. “What’s up?”

“Have you heard of a Jersey kid, Il Duce?” I ask him. Declan was a local before moving to Minnesota.

He scratches the small beard he started growing after he retired. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Caught a couple of his matches. He’s got a hell of a right hook, but he’s a bit of a hothead.”

“Yeah, how so?” I ask.

“You know the type. Short fuse, getting into altercations out of the ring. Full of himself.”

I look to Sean as if to say:see?

“Killian, don’t even. You set the benchmark for pain-in-the-ass fighters.” Clearly my business partner is already convinced and ready to sign this kid.

“Then you know firsthand how much of a headache he’ll be.” I look over to where Declan left Luke, who is diligently following his routine, despite being tired. “ThisIl Duce. He’s already on the path. Probably full of himself. When we need to push him, he won’t follow. The respect hasn’t been established. He made it without us and believes he will make it the same way.”

“You haven’t even met him.”

I don’t need to. Fighters need time to build respect and trust with their coach. We don’t have that history and I don’t have a laundry list of success stories to toss back at him to prove that my wayworks. Not to mention, a fighter like that is going to take time and energy from our existing clients.

“Thanks, Declan.” I let him get back to Luke. “When do they need our decision?”

Sean shakes his head, disappointed I’m not equally enthusiastic about this opportunity. “One week. But we shouldn’t waste time.”

“Just let me sleep on it, okay? I’m tired, my head is killing me, and I need to shower before going to the bar tonight.”

“I’ve got the bar. Why don’t you take off and we can talk in the morning?”

“Really?”

Sean gives me hisconcerned dad face, one that he’s expertly developed over the years. “I think you need to slow down.”

“I take one good punch and you think it’s time for me to throw in the towel?”

“I know you better than anyone, Kill. Everyone but you saw that hit coming from a mile away. You’re slipping. It’s time to face the facts. You aren’t in your twenties anymore. You can’t keep doing shit the way you have been. It’s going to put you in an early grave. I might make jokes about you not living to forty, but I don’t actually want to see it happen. This is one instance where I want you to prove me wrong. So, take the night off, get some actual rest. Don’t go get trashed and fuck some rando. Put on some damn sweatpants, watch TV, be lazy.”

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