by Lee Quail
“I don’t know what to say. Isn’t this information only between client and bank?”
“Not when the consultant starts fishing for investors. Listen, I know Bradshaw well. We’ve been friends for years. I’m the only one he’s told. I felt I had to warn you. Your dad, he’s worked hard all these years but there’s nothing left. People are joining other fighting clubs. They’ve heard how disciplined your dad is in his training, they don’t want such a rigid training program, they want to train in their own time. So many things, like his equipment is outdated. People want modern equipment. They want to spend time in a sauna, Jacuzzi, steam room and a swimming pool. Your dad hasn’t got these things so they go elsewhere. Haven’t you noticed the slump in new members? Old members cancelling their membership?”
“Yes, but nothing more than usual. It happens all the time.”
“This time there’s nothing to go back to, Raw.”
Dazed, Raw headed towards the door. He turned and said, “Thanks, Caine. I appreciate you telling me this.”
He had no idea about the financial situation. He couldn’t fathom why his father had kept this to himself.
Outside, Raw breathed in deeply. He had to find Edward. Leave this place. Think about the future. Make plans.
Curisco waved Raw over to his table. Edward sat with him and two other people.
“Come, come my boy.” Curisco pulled a chair but Raw declined. “These two gentlemen. Let me introduce you. Some good news. At last a fight coming our way. This is Yong Put…”
“Not now, Dad. Edward, we need to talk.”
“But your dad…”
“Now! Edward. I need you.”
Edward frowned and stood. “Sure. Please excuse me.”
Raw quickly walked ahead of Raw and in the foyer, he turned and said, “Let’s get out of here. I need fresh air.”
“What’s going on?” Edward asked, following him closely.
“I’ll tell you.”
Edward drove up the winding road to Linksfield Ridge on the east side of Johannesburg close to Eastgate Mall, with a view of the city and her lights and highways crisscrossing each other. They made themselves comfortable on one of the rocky outcrops. Raw stared into the distance.
Edward sat beside him and took his hand. “What’s wrong, Raw? Is it me? What did Caine tell you?”
“It’s you and Dad,” Raw whispered with a lump in his throat. “That proud…son of a bitch…never tells me anything.”
“Talk to me.”
It took a few moments to calm down. “Dad’s in financial shit, Ed.”
“And Caine told you this?”
“The gym will be closed at the end of the month.”
“How does Caine know this?”
“He has contacts.”
“You believe him?”
“I do believe him. I don’t know what to do. I’m lost.”
“We, Raw. We!” Edward said, he needed Raw to know he wasn’t alone anymore. “What are we going to do about this? You keep on forgetting that we’re an item.”
“I don’t know. I don’t the fuck know. All I know for sure is that we have to save the gym somehow.”
“And what about your plans for a gym of your own?”
“Screw that. There’s no way I can do that now. I can’t watch my dad suffer.”
“As I said to you this afternoon, buy the gym. Modernize it.”
“You think?”
“It’s all we can do. I have a few million in trust, my mother’s inheritance. You have money. We could pool our resources and do this together,” Edward said.
“You’ll need that money for yourself one day.”
“Hey, this is all about us, isn’t it? We can overcome this. Your dad will be a fool not to take up our offer.”
Raw shook his head, dismayed. “Too much pride. He built this gym from nothing. He won’t let go easily.”
“He doesn’t need to let go. He can stay on and manage the place.”
Raw thought for a moment. “Maybe you have something there. It’s worth thinking about.”
“Of course I have something there. And you’re part of that something, you’ll always be.”
Raw drew Edward in and rested his head against his chest.
“Thank you. Thank you so much for standing by me. I don’t know what I would have done without you by my side.”
“I love you, Raw. I’m not letting you go. I’d go to the end of the universe for you.”
They sat on the edge of the ridge, kissing and hugging and talking about how they’d save Curisco’s gym and an hour later, when they had finished making plans, Raw said, “Caine has a problem with you.”
“Me? I don’t even know the guy.”
“His feelings for me go deeper. He’s jealous.”
“I didn’t expect him to walk away from you without putting up some kind of fight.”
“I never expected it either. I mean, all we ever did was play, nothing serious. I never once expressed my feelings because there are no feelings. He, on the other hand, thought that our time together was more than just friends having a good time.”
“Be careful.”
“You think we should go back to the function?”
“It’s either that or we go back to your pad and eat each other. Your choice.”
“Before we left, Dad said something about a fight.”
Edward reached into his tweed pocket and pulled out a card. “I have their card. First thing Monday morning we’ll arrange to see them. This is big money. This Yong Put is apparently no pushover.”
“Perfect. Let’s get away from here. I want you so bad right now I can’t even think straight.”
Raw placed Edward’s hand over his rock hard cock.
12
If one were standing a few meters outside Curisco’s Boxing Club close to midnight, one would have seen a single, yellow light in the darkness. One would have heard a solitary, guttural scream, similar to that of a man in pain, emanating from that singular light. One would have heard the crash of lamps, the slam of cupboard doors and metal lockers being overturned, the smash and tinkle of glass. And then the whimpering until…silence.
Curisco didn’t understand why the two had left the function; the most important function of the year. He had bravely faced the hordes of promoters and fighters alone, especially those who wanted to meet Raw and Edward to plan matches, something that Curisco desperately needed.
Raw and Edward arrived at the gym earlier than usual on Sunday morning. Curisco sat in his office, head slumped onto his chest. His hands, swollen and bloody. Raw, followed by Edward, stood aghast at the site before them. Lamps lay broken and the TV monitor had been forced off the wall and thrown to the floor, porcelain cups broken in pieces, paper, contracts torn up, milk - all over the floor.
“What the fuck?” Raw exclaimed, bending down to pick up Curisco’s replica 1995 National Middleweight Champion belt.
Curisco rubbed his face, trying to wipe away the frustration. He didn’t look up at them as they entered.
“What have you done, Dad?”
Curisco leaped up from his chair and banged his fist on the desk.
“No! What have you done? You destroyed the one opportunity of the year when we can arrange fights. Do you know how many promoters wanted to meet you and I had to save face and say you were called out on an emergency but don’t worry he might come back and I was hoping you two would return but it seems to me all you two are interested in is to be with each other constantly.”
Raw had never seen his father look so helpless and lost. He spewed out words as he thought them. Soon the ranting became emotional and eventually Curisco sat, spent, breathing heavily, without the energy to continue.
Raw allowed the silence to settle. “Why didn’t you tell me you had financial problems?”
“It has nothing to do with you,” Curisco’s dry voice reflected his frustration.
Raw shook his head and grinned. “It has everything to do with me. I�
��m your son. I’m a part of this place, not apart from it.”
“And you want out of this, so why would I share with you my problems?”
“I had to learn from a third party last night that you’d be closing in a month.”
“I won’t let this gym close. Ever.”
“From what I hear, it’s too late. The damage has been done, you should have saved this place months back. You did nothing.”
Curisco banged his fist on the desk again. “I tried. I had fights lined up for you and because you lost the last match no one wants to fight you again. You’re too easy to defeat. I’ve been trying to get the banks to finance us but they’ve all rejected my loan applications. Why do you think I’ve been so hard on you, drilling you from four-thirty in the morning?”
“Even you said we lose some, we win some,” Raw reminded him. “Last night I walked away from that function because I heard that you had been lying to me, pretending everything was fine and above board.”
“So I lose all around,” Curisco said, calmer now. “I lose because all of my dreams are collapsing around me. My dreams for you, for this place. You don’t care. You never have. You think this is a playground for children.”
“That’s not true. I love you and I’m sorry this has happened. I’m sorry I lost those matches. I’m sorry for being your son. Is that what you want? You want me to beg for your forgiveness?” Raw hung his head in shame. “I’m yours, Dad. Do with me what you want. All I ask is that you forgive me. Please, forgive me.”
“No, I will not forgive you.”
Raw glared into his father’s eyes.
“Not unless you forgive me too,” Curisco continued. ”I also am just a man and I love you. I don’t know how to save my baby. There is a buyer, I don’t know who, but he wants to change this place into a disco. I don’t like that. Boxing is a dying sport locally. I don’t know what to do.”
Edward joined them and pulled the two men into a hug. “There’s no need for forgiveness in any of this. We need to put our heads together and come up with a plan. No one is going to change your baby into a disco.”
The three of them extended hands, one on top of the other as they promised to save the gym.
Curisco patted Edward on the head like a father would his child for good behaviour. “E lui è un bravo ragazzo,” he said in perfect Italian.
Edward frowned. He had no idea what Curisco had said. Raw smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “He said, you’re a good boy.”
Curisco stood and continued. “Okay, now we must clean up and discuss the future.”
After the clean-up, Edward contacted Yong Put’s manager, while Curisco called up a Scottish promoter he’d met the previous evening to arrange a meeting. They managed to schedule the meetings as a matter of urgency. Yong Put’s manager arrived first. A friendly, large black man who had relocated to China some years back.
“How quickly can we arrange this fight?” Raw asked.
“Six months, maybe nine,” the promoter said.
Curisco laughed. “That’s not going to work for us. We need this fight immediately.”
The black man laughed. “That’s impossible.” He pointed to Curisco. “You know that. There’s a mountain of paperwork…”
“I don’t know that,” Curisco interrupted. “This is a local match. We won’t need TV and radio rights.”
“All we need is the internet. The cheaper option is to stream the fight online. I can handle all that,” Edward said.
The Chinese fighter’s manager laughed out loud. “We’ll need sponsors and major advertising in China where Yong Put’s main fan group live.”
“We’ll pay for advertising,” Edward said.
Curisco raised his brow. “We will?”
“I don’t see a problem there. I have contacts too,” Edward confirmed.
Curisco didn’t want to deflate Edward’s ego, he remained calm, and kept quiet.
The promoter spoke. “This fight, if I can organize it in such a short time, must take place here, in South Africa. The Chinese government has a major stake in the politics of this country so it will be important for both countries, but it also needs to be at a time when the Chinese can watch it on national television. The Chinese, by the way, love boxing. These guys are national heroes.”
When the promoter left, the three burst out laughing. Raw said, “And when he said that Chinese boxers are treated like heroes in China I was like, whoa! This Chinese boxer isn’t going to get the upper hand on me, bro.”
Edward sank back into his chair and laughed. “Seriously. Heroes? I’m shaking.”
“Guys. Guys!” Curisco waved his hands for silence. “It’s three-thirty. Johnson should be arriving any time now. Raw, this one’s for you. It’s a tough one.”
“You want Edward to fight the man from China?”
“Yes. This one’s for you, Rawson.”
”Dad, the name. Don’t.” Raw rolled his eyes at the sound of his name.
“Sorry, son. I forget sometimes. What do you think about fighting the Scot?”
“I’m in.”
“Bring it on, Padre,” Edward said.
Suddenly the laughter stopped. Raw gazed at Edward with wonder in his eyes. Curisco stood silently at the door, watching the entrance.
“What?” Edward said, opening the palms of his hands.
Raw coughed. “Padre?”
“Yes, I heard that,” Curisco said.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…I mean it just slipped out. Sorry.”
Raw smiled and took Edward’s hand. “You called him dad.”
“I know.”
“I like it. I like it,” Curisco exclaimed. “I mean, you are like a son to me. I’m proud of you.”
Raw couldn’t stop staring and smiling at Edward. “That’s so amazing.”
“He’s here,” Curisco said, excitement in his voice. “Your best now, boys. This is a tough nut to crack.”
Johnson walked straight into the office and greeted each of them in his powerful Scottish accent. Curisco offered him a glass of milk.
“A glass of milk? What shit is that? I need a whiskey, lads. Let’s get rat-arsed!”
“I have just the thing for you,” Curisco opened a cabinet behind the desk and pulled out a bottle of 2001 Johnny Walker.
“Now that’s what I’m talking aboot. Make it a long double.” His accent thick, unforgivably out of control.
“Of course,” Curisco said, smiling.
Curisco handed him a glass of neat JW and the man gulped it all down. “Geez a nip wi' that pint will ye, lad. Another. On ice. Neat.”
Curisco nodded at Raw who leaped up to pour him another glass.
Curisco settled behind his desk and tapped his golden pen on the shining mahogany.
“Your lad, I thought you’d bring him along.”
“That one is a fiery spirit. He’s busy shagging some wench. Real lassie’s man that one.”
Raw sniggered from the side. “I thought I was bad.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Curisco said. “Not at this stage. Raw is very much a man’s man,” Curisco said, winking at Raw.
Raw’s eyes grew wide. “A man’s man? Oh, yes. Yes, I am. Very much.”
“That’s lovely,” Johnson said. “And Ah'm sure ye have a long line of lassies waitin' on ye. Let 'em wait, laddie. That's what Ah say.”
“They’re bashing the door down. They’ll need to wait a long, long time.” Raw said, smiling.
“Good on ye,” Johnson said, punching Raw’s shoulder. “Now, let’s talk business.”
“Raw’s itching for a strong contender. Best of four rounds. Here, at this gym. Call it a fundraiser.”
“My lad’s got a huge desire for weak men…”
Raw raised an eyebrow. “He has? Funny you should mention that…”
“Ye know what ah mean. He kills them by the second round. Looking at ye, Raw, ah think ye'll do two rounds with 'im and call it a day.”
“That’s your opinion,�
�� Raw said, disliking the Scotsman’s attitude.
“A’m nae wrong, lad. He’s won the last sixteen four-rounders, ah wouldnae say nowt tae him man, he's solid, and he’s a South Paw.”
Curisco said, “Bring him on. Like we discussed last night.”
“Sure thing. Mense! Now, all we need is a date.”
“Three weeks from today. Gives us time to advertise online and here at the club.”
“Fuckin' mon' then ya wee dick. It’s on.”
Curisco pushed a contract across the desk and told him to read it before signing. “Sign and you get another wee glass of neat whiskey.”
“Fuck that. I want the whole feckin’ bottle. 2001 is it?”
“Sign, and the feckin’ bottle is yours,” Curisco said, smiling and handing over the gold Parker pen.
“Haud the bus. I’ll have to read it first and talk to my laddie.”
He took the bottle with him and waved it in the air as he said goodbye, feeling smug as a lord.
Raw and Edward keeled over laughing. Curisco didn’t see the joke.
“Dad! What did you say? I’m a real man’s man…” Raw keeled over again. He laughed so much that he had to grip his tummy. “Oh, Jesus. You should have seen his face. Damn, my stomach hurts.”
Curisco giggled and shrugged. “I didn’t lie.”
Edward and Raw hugged Curisco and were about to leave when Curisco stopped them.
“I wanted to ask you both.”
Raw turned to face him. “Ask away.”
“I have an idea for another fundraiser. What about you two fight each other?”
Raw waited a moment, the smile dropped. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
Edward immediately said, “That’s a tall order. I’ll need to think about it.”
Curisco smiled. “Just a thought. It would be good for the club.”
“We’ll discuss it and let you know,” Raw said, waving behind him.
After dinner, they strolled along Zoo Lake, recalling the funny moments during the day and the successful signing of at least one fight. Their mood, lighter and beneficial. Both had the opportunity to prove their worth in the ring and they were excited, but it didn’t mean they could slack off. The next three weeks would be strenuous; training would take up most of their time. Of course, training for an event didn’t secure victory. There would always be a winner and a loser, no matter how intense, or how hard the participants trained. As they walked along the shore of the lake, feeding the ducks and geese, they confirmed and committed themselves to three weeks of non-stop, hell-raising training.