Page 82 of Spike

“Don’t let thegood press fool you, Eddie. Minus is no teddy bear, and neither am I.”

“You still haven’ttold me how a holy man came to employ your services,” Edison said.

“Let’s say I’m afriend of the family.”

Edison grinned. “Afriend of the preacher’s daughter is more like it. Isn’t that right?”

“You have themoney. Leave the Mitchell family alone.”

“Of course, ofcourse. Once Kevin is done counting, I’ll consider his debt paid in full. Thenwe can discuss your debt to me.”

“What the fuck areyou talking about?”

“The businesslicense fee you owe me.”

“How close toChernobyl were you born?” I asked.

Edison rose to hisfeet. “If the pastor had come to me directly with my money, we’d be done withthis by now. But he involved you in this transaction, and I don’t know you.Those who I don’t know, I don’t trust. And, those who I don’t trust, I don’t dobusiness with. So, in order for you to be involved in this transaction you mustobtain a temporary license to do business with me. Such a license will cost youtwenty percent of Mitchell’s debt. That would mean you owe me one hundredthousand dollars. Payment is due within forty-eight hours.”

“Soundsreasonable,” I said. “Here’s my counteroffer. Go fuck yourself.”

“I could do that,but then the preacher’s lovely daughter might not stay lovely for very long.”

I took a stepforward, shadowed by the remaining guard, and looked Edison square in the face.“You touch her, you die.”

“A fighter, huh?Good,” Edison replied. “How about you sing for your supper?”

“What the fuck areyou talking about?”

“I need amiddleweight fighter for a match this coming Saturday, and you look to be aboutone hundred seventy pounds.”

“Why the hellwould I agree to that?”

“Because, if youwin, your debt to me is cancelled, and I’ll even let you keep the purse. But ifyou refuse to fight, I’ll sic your opponent on Christine Mitchell instead ofyou, and he’ll take care of her outside the ring. Away from the judges.”

** *

“No, no, no.You’re still too close to the bag. From there, all your punching power iscoming from your shoulder. If you take a few steps back, you can step insidewhile throwing the punch, utilizing your leg strength as well as your shoulder.Watch me.”

Clutch demonstratedthe technique several times. The snap of his gloves against the heavy leatherbag reverberating throughout the otherwise empty gym.

“You, see?” heasked, changing places with me. “Now you try.”

I took my stance,careful to mind my footwork and my left-hand position as I danced around theoutside of the bag.

“Good. That’s morelike it.” Clutch nodded. “Now, step in and snap that straight right.”

I did as my coachinstructed, feeling the full force of the blow resonate through every bone inmy hand.

“You feel thedifference?”

“Absolutely,” Isaid, doing my best Sylvester Stallone.

“Alright, Rocky.Gimmie twenty-five of those in a row, and I want to see you do a full resetbefore each punch.”

I nodded, took adeep breath, and started the drill. I’d only been training full time withClutch for two days but was already sore in places I didn’t know I had. I knewtraining was only going to get harder and tried to mentally pace myself whilepushing my body to its limits. Everything I’d known about fighting up until nowI learned in prison, but inmates play by a different set of rules than boxers.Inside, you use whatever means necessary to win a fight, because to lose onecould very well mean losing your life. The only rule I ever saw observed in aprison fight was no shoes. Other than that, headbutting, eye gouging, biting,knees, and elbows were all fair play.

“I still can’tbelieve you fucked up a simple pay off,” Clutch said, with a chuckle.

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