Page 101 of Sacrifice
“Stop.” Sal walks into the ring. “That’s good. Your footwork has gotten a lot better. I like it.”
I roll to my back and struggle to breathe. It’s been a long night. I glance over at the corner and see Will watching, his hands draped over the bottom rope.
“You can go, Victor. Thanks for staying late,” Sal says, dismissing him.
Victor tips his chin to Coach, shakes my hand, and bounces off into the locker room. My hand hits the mats with a thud.
“The NAFL wants to meet with us next week for a press day. We don’t have long ’til showtime and they want to start drumming up the hype.”
“Drumming up the hype? Fuck that,” Will says, climbing over the rope and into the ring. “I think we—”
“Will,” Sal says sharply, “there is no‘we.’”
“What the hell does that mean?” Will looks offended. “You gave me a job. I’m like a trainer now, too.”
“The hell you are.”
“You gave him a job?”
“Yeah,” Will says proudly. “I’m a part of Team Believe. My job is to keep your ass in line.”
“Team Believe?” Sal asks. “What the fuck is that?”
“Us,” I groan, shaking out a cramp in my leg.
Sal puts a hand on his hip. “Do I wanna know?”
I shrug. “That’s up to you. Anyway, the media?”
“Yeah. The NAFL wants to hype the shit out of this.”
“The hype surrounding this fight is in-fucking-sane already,” Will says. “You should see the boards online. This is all they’re talking about.”
“What are they saying?” I ask, rolling onto my stomach and then sitting back on my knees. My side aches from a blow from Victor.
“Doesn’t matter what they’re saying,” Sal says. “Don’t worry about that. You worry about you and the work in front of you. Hear me?”
“I hear ya. But I wanna know what they’re saying.”
“I said it doesn’t matter,” Sal glares. “No distractions, Gentry. What a bunch of wanna-be assholes sitting on a couch somewhere that can’t fight their way outta a wet paper bag think doesn’t mean jack shit to you or this fight. All we care about is that they want to watch it.”
“Frankly,” I say, standing up. “I don’t even care if they wanna watch it. I just wanna get paid.”
He looks at me and I know he knows what I’m implying.
“Let’s just cut the shit. You and I both know that I don’t have a career in this. This is a one and done for me.”
Sal turns his back to me for a minute. When he faces me again, his eyes are blazing. “Then you better make it worth your while.” He crosses the ropes and heads towards his office in the corner of the building.
“I want Brett from Boston 15 to get in on this somehow,” I shout.
“Be here tomorrow at six,” he replies without even turning around.
Will and I stand in the center of the ring, the lights hanging from the ceiling shining directly on us.
“What did ya mean by that?” he asks, jamming his hands in his pockets.
I grab the back of my shoulder with the opposite hand, wincing as the pain starts to wear through the adrenaline. “I always wondered if the doctors were wrong, that I could’ve gone ahead and fought. And now I know. I’ve got one fight left in me, Will. That’s it.”
