Page 54 of Crimson Promises
That was a shit-ton of things to figure out. I needed to get ahead of any future attacks by a demon. How the fuck was I going to do that? I tried to rub out the pounding growing above my nose.
The sun had risen, but nervous energy buzzed through me. I didn’t have a class until much later this afternoon. I scoffed to myself. The courses without her in them were dreadful. It was part of my cover, so I had to go, even when I already knew most of the material covered.
I pulled into the parking lot of Sully's Gym. Aurora would hopefully still be sleeping. The gym wasn’t close to where I lived, but it was one of the few places in the area that specialized in boxing. The university had a state-of-the-art recreational complex filled with guys like Riley, who claimed “It’s bulking/shredding season.” They bragged about the number of pounds they could lift and would stare at themselves in the mirror while they flexed their pectorals or biceps. The meatier the better—body proportion was an afterthought. Sully's place was exclusively a gym for boxers.
Sully's facility featured a boxing ring in regulation size, and there were plenty of heavy bags, punching bags, and other equipment to help work up a sweat. The boxing gym had a long and proud history of producing successful amateur and professional fighters. What set Sully's Boxing Club apart from others was the caliber of its coaches. They were all experienced professionals who were passionate about the sport and dedicated to developing the skills of their members. As a result, the club had a reputation for being one of the best places in Oregon to train as a boxer. I wasn’t looking for anything professional, but it was vital for me to train somewhere authentic.
Since ‘transferring’ here, I’d been every day. The receptionist nodded when I walked by. Here, people knew you by your name. Normally a thing of the past, it seemed. I walked straight into Sully’s office. We had built a rapport.
His legs were up on his desk. gray hair tied up in a bun on his head. How he boxed with that thing, I never knew.
I braced my hand on each side of the doorway.
“Changed your mind yet?” Sully asked.
“No, and it’s not going to.”
“You could go pro. Make more money than you could dream of. You’re that good—one of the best I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t say that lightly.”
“I’m not interested in the money, Sully.”
“Alright, alright. Can’t blame a guy for trying. What are you doing in here then?”
“Can’t a guy say hi.”
Sully put his pen behind his ear.
“I came straight here and realized I don’t have any of my stuff with me.”
“Only been here a few weeks and already asking for favors." He tsked. “Go tell Gia at the front desk to set you up. Tell her I say ‘pistachio.'"
“I don’t even want to know. Thanks, I appreciate the hook-up. Are you getting in the ring today?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m risking some of God’s best work by getting in the ring with you. I made that mistake already. You can spar with some new members who joined this week. Or whoever else you want. I have office shit to do.”
I could take a hint. “Got it. See you, Sully.”
“Later, Ben.”
I closed his office door on the way out.
After Gia set me up with some shorts, a tank top, shoes, wraps, and some gloves, I hit the speed bag to warm up. Although I was grateful for the extra clothes, they were all a few sizes too big. I looked like I could be an umbrella for two other adults. When I left the change room, I saw Gia muffling a laugh.
Whatever, I was here to box. Boxing was about accuracy, strategy, mental and physical stamina—something I found lacking at traditional gyms. Throughout my years on this planet, I was privileged enough to see some greats: Muhammad Ali, George Foreman, Alexis Arguello, ‘Sugar’ Ray Leonard, and others.
Boxing became a way to channel the rage that bubbled through my veins. My anger was never gone, but boxing acted like a conduit to control my aggression into defeating my opponent. I didn’t care to beat someone up. I wanted to outwit and outsmart them. The footwork was like a dangerous dance. A wrong move could be life-altering, and I had made plenty of those.
Sweat was dripping down my face onto my arms. I grabbed the tank top I had shrugged off earlier and used it as a towel. While dabbing my face, I scoped out the studio. The usual people I sparred with were absent. I usually came late at night when I knew Aurora was sleeping instead of early in the mornings. The bond from even this far seemed relaxed and peaceful. Maybe she stopped having those nightmares. She was probably dreaming of ways to hurt or embarrass me. I didn’t exactly blame her, either.
Where are the newbies Sully was talking about?I grabbed my borrowed stuff and headed into the ring.
Putting my headphones on my ears, I blasted music, closed my eyes, and blocked out the rest of the world. Everything I do is to a four count: four punches, four slips, four steps, and repeat. Shadowboxing helped me find my rhythm in my body rather than fully extending all my punches. It improved my agility and footwork. This was my version of rehearsals dancers practiced in before a show. They took each piece of learned movement and wove it together into a seamless routine. In a boxing match, I adjusted my moves and strategies based on the opponent in front of me, but there was a fluidity and tempo in boxing that required the same finesse and discipline as dancers.
I was interrupted in the middle of throwing some jabs by someone tapping on my shoulder. I turned around to see one of the few familiar faces I knew at ACU.
“My fellow champion, I thought that was you.” Connor, my beer pong partner, was standing before me. I hadn’t anticipated running into anyone I knew here.
“Hey man, nice to see you. What are you doing here?”
