by Brian Cotton
Chapter .04
“Just what was that?!” Danny demanded.
“I’m sorry.” Kaspar replied.
“Sorry? That ain’t gonna pay my rent this month, is it?”
“I lost control.”
“Well, we could all see that. Disqualified! Do you know what that means?”
Kaspar rubbed at his aching cheek bone. “Yes.”
“Damn it!” Danny shouted. He found a plastic trash can and kicked it across the floor.
“Relax.” Kaspar said.
“Don’t tell me to relax.” Danny began his approach. “You just took a beating for nothing. You had him, he was tired, you broke his spirit, and then you pissed it all away.”
“I snapped, I’m sorry.”
“Ain’t that just too bad? Let me look at that eye.”
Kaspar relaxed his body as best he could. Danny knelt down in front of him and touched the eye lightly. It caused a wince. The sharp pain stung like trapping a hornet in one’s hand. Slight pressure was applied; a growl of pain. Danny let go, stood up, and sighed.
“What’s it looking like?” Kaspar asked.
“There’s going to be a hell of a lot of swelling, but it doesn’t look like he broke anything.”
Kaspar breathed in. “What do you think my father would say? I mean, if he saw the fight, if he was here, right now?”
“‘Damn, son, you look beat the hell up.’”
“I’m being serious.”
“Hell, I don’t know, kid. Never met the man.”
“That makes two of us.” Kaspar replied.
“Don’t let that man ruin your life.”
Kaspar laughed. Danny walked over to the cooler in the far right corner and filled a plastic bag full of ice. He walked back over and placed it over his injured fighter’s cheek. Kaspar winced again and closed his eyes.
“I did beat the shit out of him, though.” Kaspar said.
“Damn right you did.”
A sound interrupted the conversation. In walked Howard Walker, the founder of the illicit underground ring. Kaspar did not bother to open his eyes, but the old man’s gasp gave away who it was, and it prompted another laugh.
“What’s he laughing at?” Walker demanded, pointing his right index finger.
“I don’t have a clue,” Danny replied. “What can we do for you, Mr. Walker?”
“You can start by explaining to me what happened out there tonight.”
“I beat the shit out of Razor.” Kaspar said in between laughs.
“You’re a funny man,” Walker said. “A broke man, but a funny one.”
“Hey,” Danny interjected. “Go easy on the kid. He had a rough fight.”
“Yeah, well, that little stunt he pulled out there cost me a lot of money. It’s a DQ, nobody wins and nobody gets paid. I’ve got my bookies all over my ass right now. Your fighter, he ain’t getting a fraction, and he’s going under review effective immediately.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?” Danny demanded.
“What’s so unfair?”
“Look at Razor. Is he above your rules? He’s killed men, he shoves officials out of the ring, yet he doesn’t ever—ever—get disqualified.”
Walker moved his finger to Danny. “You leave that up to me.”
“You listen to me. You point that finger at me ever again and I’ll make sure that it never points at anyone else.”
Walker looked taken aback. He turned around and walked straight for the door and slammed it behind him. Danny wiped the grin off of his face and walked back over to his fighter, who continued in his hysteria.
“Let’s get out of here.” Danny said.