Page 30 of Regards, Mia

Icircle the boxing ring, watching Manny and Thatcher exchange punches. It’s just a sparring match, but with Fight Night coming up in a few weeks, every second of training counts. Manny looks distracted, and I try to bring his focus back to the training with direct instructions.

“Keep your hands up. Move your feet. Jesus Christ, look alive, will you?”

Even though we’ve planned for several amateur fights, including a debut from a Champion’s Corner fighter, the entire event rides on the main card, which is Manny “The Killer Bee” Perez verses “The Hitman” Logan Malone.

Cassandra and her firm have done a great job stirring up interest on social media, and the event is nearly sold out. The ticket sales, plus concessions and sponsorships will be enough to fund another season of Champion’s Corner.

“You need a break?” I ask Manny.

He shakes his head, throwing another punch that Thatcher easily dodges.

I shift my focus from Manny to Thatcher, noticing his agility, his strength, and the look in his eye that says he’s determined to crush anything in his way.

“Move your feet, Manny.”

Thatcher throws a punch Manny can’t duck, and he takes the hit with a muffled oaf. I transfer my attention to Thatcher, watching him instead of Manny. Thatcher has the whole package, and he’s the most dedicated guy I know. He never misses a day of training, and his involvement at the gym goes beyond his personal goals. Thatcher volunteers with the self-defense classes and the youth group. He’s an army veteran and business owner, a perfect role model for the kids. And his recent photograph in the Men of Mossy Oak Calendar clad in his boxer briefs will bring an audience of women to the fight.

Maybe I should add him to the card. A celebrity match. An idea forms in my mind, fleshing out by the minute as I watch Thatcher hold his own against the best fighter in the gym.

Cassandra would have a field day with Thatcher Hayes. He’s got a great personality, and he’d look great on a social media post.

“Take five,” I tell Manny. “Hey, Thatcher? Come here a minute. I want to run something by you.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“You ever thought about getting in the ring for real?”

Thatcher nods. “Pretty much all the time.”

Perfect. “If you ever want to step back in, let me know.”

His eyes spark with interest. “I’ll think about it.”

“Hey, Coach?” George comes up next to the ring, interrupting us.

“Just a minute, kid.” I don’t take my eyes off Thatcher. “Get over what?”

Thatcher shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

I glance over at Manny, who is watching us curiously. “You ready to look alive?” I ask.

“Ready.”

“Get back to it. Keep those hands up.” I take my eyes off them and look at George, who has been waiting patiently. “What do you want?”

“Can I go? The bathrooms are clean.”

The kid looks exhausted. He’s been coming in early every day for weeks. “Check with Laura and see if she has anything for you, then you can go.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

“Get home safe, George,” I call after him.

I’m looking at George when the worst thing that could happen happens. Manny throws a punch, Thatcher doesn’t dodge, and the howl of pain from Manny’s mouth can only mean one thing.

He’s hurt.

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