Page 99 of The Breaking Pointe
The last boxer to represent Punchy Puffs was a lot greater than me.He presented me with an award tonight called TheYoungAchieversaward.Accordingtohim,I’mthe
second youngest to win it—after him—and it’s the main reason I’m considered for the pros.Until now, I had no idea I was breaking any records.Coming from someone who holds twelve belts, was the spokesperson for one of the greatest kids’ cereals, and now mainly serves as a legend in retirement is an honor. Punchy Puffs and numerous other companies remain popular because of him. Even I ate them as a kid.That was when they first became popular, back when my father was still fighting. He hated the cereal.
I know now that his jealousy got in the way of some pretty delicious breakfast food.
He’d probably vomit if he saw me holding this award.
Unbiased with my opinions on it, it’s not Punchy Puffs that had my father bent. It’s the success his opponent had by representing the brand.The fame and love that came with it. Because of a cereal brand, Rodney Wilkow’s entire existence became one of the most loved ones in New York City. That’s not to say I’ll be the same—but Rodney’s desires were pure.Mine are, too.His heart was in the right place. Mine is, too. That’s why all of the brand’s proceeds go to St. Jude’s, via Rodney’s request. By agreeing to represent them, so does a great deal of my earnings. Had they not mentioned that part, I can’t say it would’ve been as easy to get me to sign the contract. I think kids are amazing. They may not like me, but if I can punch a few assholes out and pay for someone’s chemotherapy, then I’m down for the ride. I have enough money in my pockets, and I’ve always wanted to finda good charity to donate to. I wish I could say that was the motivation for other fighters here, too, but it’s not.
It’s apparent that material has taken over almost everymindatthisdinner.Mostofthefightersrefusetospeakto
anyone, and whenthey do,it’s to bragabout themselves.
Noelle is enjoying herself more; I watch her as the night goes on. She had a few drinks and feels buttered up enough to relax. On the other hand, my few glasses of champagne have no effect on my nerves.The tension rushes over me like waves, and my social meter is now reaching empty. The night is close to its end, anyway, but before we go anywhere else, I’m on one last mission.
Bathroom break.
With Noelle and Trey on each side of me, we all head to the exit, stopping by the nearest bathroom first. Stopping at the door, I let go of Noelle’s hand.
“I’ll be quick. I just need to freshen myself up a little bit,” I say to both of them.
“Take your time.I’ll hold your award,” Noelle says, taking it from my hands slowly, ogling it then me.“Many more where this came from.” She shrugs, sure of herself.
I smile, shaking my head, turning to walk into the bath- room. Closing my eyes momentarily at a urinal, I hear a few coughs from a stall behind me, opening my eyes from the peace I thought I had. The coughing continues, followed by bellicose sniffling and grunting.
The stall door jiggles until it’s open, and a man hesitantly steps out. Finishing up, I dry myself then quickly zip up my pants.Keeping my head down, I walk to the sink, seeing his shoes follow to the sink beside me. Curiosity is getting the best of me, the closer he gets.His presence feels like a warning. I finally look in the mirror as an excuse to see his face.
Low and behold.Just the man I don’t want to see.
“Well.Youmustbefeelinglikegold,huh?”heasks,
snifflingonceagainbeforeturningthesinkon.
I take my eyes away from the mirror again, scoffing and continuing to wash my hands, ignoring his advances for confrontation.
“I’m playing nice. Relax. We’re in a public setting. I’m not that dumb.” He keeps talking, washing his hands as well.
I turn the water off and rip a few pieces of paper towelfrom the dispenser, breaking down my pride to look at him. “So, you’re only a psychopath in private.Good to know.”
Ismileabrasively.
He turns his faucet off and grabs some paper towel for himself, turning to face me.
“I’d watch what I say if I were you, rookie.Some beef goes beyond the ring,” he warns, smirking.
“I don’t have anything to offer you. I’m here on business, just like every other person here. I could do it better though without your shrewd looks all night.I wanna call it even. Alright?” I ask, holding my hand out.
If I can stay cordial, then I have nothing to worry about.
He looks at my hand, chuckling softly, then his eyes raise to look in mine. “You have so many jokes, and yet none of them are landing. You started this, and now you’re calling it even as if I give a rat’s ass?I would let it go, but uh, you keep trying to take my shit.”
Fuck cordiality.
“I don’t feel guilty about winning.”I furrow my brows, thinking it over. “I never will. And I sure as hell don’t feel guilty for treating a woman better than you can. Be up front, Daniel. ‘Cause that’s what this is truly about, right?”
We both glare at each other, the space between us being theonlyforceholdingusback.Bothofhishandsvisibly
begin jittering and shaking, as if he can’t bear to stand still any longer.Noticing the rapid movement, I confine my amusement to a small smile. “You can’t take your face away from the snow long enough to see the messes you make. Or anything else for that matter.” I shrug.
