Page 4 of Free to Fall

“Yo!” Reggie’s voice cut through my haze. “What the hell is that Nas? You swingin’ like you half-asleep.”

I blinked, pulling my gloves up, sweat dripping down my temple. “I’m good.”

“Bullshit,” Reg snapped, walking toward the ring. “Yo head’s somewhere else. You think Sadiq’s gonna slow down cause your girl had you up all night?”

I didn’t respond, didn’t want him to know my absent mind was because of a woman, because in boxing, when training, especially before a fight, women should be off limits because they were always a distraction.

He leaned on the ropes. “Get out the ring. Now.”

I exhaled sharply, biting down on my mouthguard before yanking it out. “C’mon, Reg?—”

“Nah. I’m not playin’. Come back when you got your head in the game. Cause right now? You slippin’. And Sadiq will beat yo ass if you walk into that fight like this.”

Frustration bubbled up in my chest as I climbed out of the ring and ripped the gloves from my hands. I knew he was right, but I didn’t need the lecture today. I needed space.

My condo in Beverly Grove sat on the tenth floor of a glass-paneled building with private access and panoramic views of the city. I loved this condo; it was the first place I purchased after moving to LA years ago and getting my first million dollar check for a fight I had during pay-per-view. It was a big payout, and I saw more money than I’d ever seen in my life with that one check.

Bachelor pad, sure—but with style. Black leather sectional, charcoal walls, floor-to-ceiling windows that opened up to a wraparound balcony. My kitchen had matte black finishes, top-tier appliances I barely used, and a wine fridge that stayed stocked with bottles I never opened. It was masculine, clean, but comfortable.

Dark oak floors. Warm lighting. Records lining the wall. Boxing memorabilia in a glass case beside my trophies. My bedroom? Soft sheets, heavy comforter, blackout curtains, and a bed big enough to get lost in. But even in all that space, Egypt’s absence always echoed.

I had barely been home for an hour when a knock hit the door. I frowned, not expectin’ nobody. I moved through the condo, peeked through the peephole, and immediately tensed. What the fuck? I opened the door slowly.

“Nate?”

My older brother stood there with that same cocky-ass grin, like we were the best of friends, and he wasn’t the same nigga I hadn’t heard from in months. His hoodie was half-zipped, chain on, grill peeking through when he smirked. He had been out of jail for a few months and once he got out, I hadn’t heard from him except when he hit me for money to pay his bills. Hell, I didn’t even know how the fuck he got permission to leave the state of Texas. I knew his PO wasn’t allowing that shit, which led me to believe he hadn’t asked for permission at all.

“What’s good, lil’ bro?” he said, brushing past me like this was his place.

I shut the door behind him, jaw tight. “The fuck you doin’ here?”

He looked around with a whistle, like he was impressed. “Damn. This you? You really out here livin’, huh?”

“Don’t do that,” I muttered, already over it. “What you want, Nate?”

He turned to face me, arms folded. “Shit. I need a lil’ bread. Nothin’ crazy.”

I pulled out my wallet and peeled off a few bills, holding it out. “Here. That should hold you down.”

He looked at the cash like it was lint. Didn’t even move to grab it. “Nah, I’m talkin’ a real bag, Nasseem.”

I dropped my hand slowly. “Say what you really mean then.”

He leaned on the wall, arms crossed tighter now. “You got that fight comin’ up, right? Sadiq Ansari. You beat him, it’s one more step to the belt.”

I nodded once, cautious. “Yeah. So?”

“So…” He grinned. “Odds say you gon’ beat his ass. But if you lose? Big payout for the underdog. I throw a stack on Sadiq, we flip it. Walk away clean. Nobody loses for real.”

I stared at him like he had lost his damn mind. “You serious right now?”

“Deadass. You still get your check either way, bro. Ain’t like you fightin’ Kahlil yet.”

I stepped forward, voice low and tight. “I ain’t throwin’ no damn fight, Nate.”

“Man, it ain’t that deep,” he said, hands up like I was tripping. “It’s a business move. That’s it.”

“You think I’m finna risk every fuckin’ thing I worked for just so you can hit a lick?” I scoffed. “Nigga, no.”

---