by Lee Quail
Edward’s eyes began to close while those thoughts raged in his head. He propped Raw’s pillow and hugged it to his body, kissed the pillow goodnight.
***
Bold and sunny, Saturday arrived and Raw awoke bright and early to prepare Edward’s breakfast. In the kitchen, he heard the spare room’s door open and greeted Edward as he came into view.
“How are you feeling?” Raw asked, handing him a plate with one boiled egg, a slice of toast and a full glass of orange juice. Raw kissed Edward gently on the mouth.
“Like a thousand Raw Curisco’s. I missed you last night.”
“I missed you too. Woke up in the middle of the night with a hard-on as tall as the Eiffel Tower and you locked your bedroom door. See…” Raw parted the flaps of his nightgown. His cock reached out and Edward felt the urge to go down on it immediately. “It’s now as tall as one of the twin towers in Malaysia.”
Edward resisted the urge to take him in his mouth and laughed. “I knew you’d come to the room. Something told me to lock the door. I don’t know, I just did.”
“You do realize that last night was the first time we did not make love. You know that, don’t you.”
Edward blushed. “I know it. But there’s still tonight and forever.”
“Tonight. You’re going to be one hell of a mess!”
“No. I won’t be. I want to win this fight badly. I’ve trained like crazy. I’m fit and ready for this. Put is going to be sorry he ever laid eyes me.”
“I hope so. I really hope the gods are on your side tonight.”
Edward reached for Raw’s sweet morning face and touched his lips with his index finger. “You’re on my side, that’s all that matters.”
While Raw spent time in the gym most of the day, Edward made good his promise to pick up Angie from her house and escort her to the match. She waited for him on the patio and waved as he approached. She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m ready. Got my knitting needles and made sure to get a ticket online seeing that there were no complimentary tickets dished out.”
On the way back to the gym Edward built up the courage to finally strike up a conversation dealing with Raw’s headaches. At first he hesitated, thinking it had nothing to do with him, but after a few moments, he realized it had everything to do with him and more.
“Angie, I need to ask you something. I’m praying that you’ll tell me the truth. I think you will, you always have. There’s nothing across your forehead that says ‘liar’.”
“Shoot, darling. I’ll do my best.”
“I know Raw gets these headaches. I’ve seen them happen. They’re crippling and it tears me apart.”
“I knew this conversation would pop up someday. I suppose better now than never.”
“Angie, I…I feel helpless seeing Raw suffer like that. I can’t help him. All I can do is comfort him while it lasts, and hope and pray that it’s only a headache or a migraine and wait until it passes.”
“Raw is a stubborn mule. I’ve told him many times to have it checked. But he won’t. He promises to have it seen to every time. It’s as if he fears it could be more than a headache and he simply doesn’t want to know. I’ve tried, darling. Ultimately, it’s his choice.”
“How long have you known about these headaches?”
“I’ve known for a year now, and he won’t accept my help.”
“He’s going to be fighting soon, maybe even me. What if he dies? Where do we go from there?”
“Raw is not going to die. Have you seen Raw in training? Haven’t you noticed how he defends his head?”
“Yes, I have. He does that all the time. But it could be that one punch that slips through and it’s over. The problem is if there is a fight between him and me. I can’t do that to him. I love him too much to fight him.”
“Then don’t. Tell him you won’t fight. Tell him you care for him too much to put him through that hell.”
“Does Raw have a death wish, Angie? You know him better than me. You’ve been in his life forever. Does he have a death wish?”
“Sometimes I think he does. Other times I see him living life as only a bird, or a lion does. Full of instinct, impulsive and crazy. I think of Caine, and their crazy antics, I think of how he believed he could leave the gym and start his own.”
“I need to ask, what happened the other night at dinner? When I arrived his eye was slightly swollen and he seemed off balance for a few minutes.”
Angie sighed deeply. “One of those headache attacks. Instead of chopping up three onions for the French onion soup, he tried to chop ten and would have continued chopping if I hadn’t stopped him.”
Edward brought his fist to his mouth and bit into his knuckles to stop the tears from falling. “I can’t lose him, Angie. We’ve just found each other. What do I do?”
“Convince him to see my doctors. Do you think you can do that?”
Edward nodded, he couldn’t talk and cry and concentrate on his driving, so he shut up the rest of the way, and when he dropped Angie off at Curisco’s, he sat in his car for a while sobbing silently.
18
Boxing League South Africa classified it as an international event. Curisco’s gym saw it as a fight to launch Edward into the realm of superstardom. The day before the weigh-in, the media went to town.
The Johannesburg Star’s headline read: “EDWARD CANTON (White Snake) RETURNS TO THE RING AFTER TRAGIC BOUT IN CUBA.”
The Sowetan got it right: “KILLER BOXER EDWARD CANTON RETURNS TO THE RING IN EPIC BATTLE”
The Citizen: “CANTON the White Snake RETURNS WILL HE KILL AGAIN?”
Curisco warned Edward to stay away from the media and not take offence to their headlines or remarks.
“It’s not that simple,” Edward said to Raw in his apartment before leaving for the weigh-in. “How do you ignore this?” He opened the blinds overlooking the street and caught a glimpse of the media wolves outside blocking the street, waiting for him to appear.
“We take the back entrance. No one will think twice to go there,” Raw said, taking his hand.
Three reporters waited at the back door, like vultures circling their dinner.
“Jesus, they’re all over the place,” Raw pushed Edward out of sight and shut the door.
“Who the hell gave them permission to enter the property?” Edward thought out loud.
“Probably the landlord,” Raw said. “I’ve got an idea.”
Back inside the apartment Raw pushed Edward onto the couch. “Sit. Do you have any of Angie’s clothes here?”
“She’s never spent a night here. No. What are you up to?”
“There’s only one way to get you out of this building.” Raw punched in Angie’s number and waited a moment.
“Darling,” she said in her usual friendly tone.
“Angie, we need you. Like now. Right now.”
“I’m here, speak.”
“You need to get to Edward’s apartment in record time. Bring your knitting needles and make up. Have you got a wig?”
“Of course, my night stand is full of wigs. What colour?”
Edward said, “I don’t believe this. You’re dressing me up in drag? Blonde. I want a blonde wig and I’ll need one of her bras.”
“You’ve done this before, right?” Raw laughed.
“Maybe. Once. Yes. Drag party.”
“Hello. Hello. You talking to me or Edward?”
“Both of you. Sorry. Okay, Bring two sets of clothing, your knitting stuff, a wig, make up and bra and shoes, girly sandals or something.”
“I can bring a sarong.”
“Whatever, just make it quick, there’s a sea of reporters waiting to get hold of Edward.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Make sure you use the front entrance. Make sure these vultures see you. Put on the wig and sandals and sarong and get here.”
“I’m on my way.”
***
Two hours later Edward and Raw left the apartmen
t and nervously negotiated the throng of reporters. Edward’s blonde wig reached down to his shoulders and he had shaved before Angie applied the make-up.
“How will he get this shit off?” Raw asked.
“Cold cream does it for me. Actors also use it. Works like a dream,” Angie said.
Angie made him squeeze into the sarong. “It’s small,” Edward moaned.
“I really don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble,” Angie said. “Walk through them, you don’t need to say a word. Ignore their questions and go.”
“They want blood, Angie. They’re not going to rest until they get cup loads of it. They’ll follow us.”
“Then you’d better put on your best camp walk,” Angie said.
Edward held Raw’s hand as they walked towards Angie’s Anglia in the parking area. Edward held her knitting bag over one limp wrist and gently swayed his hips as he daintily walked through the crowd. No one noticed. No one cared.
Except one. “Excuse me!”
A reporter came from behind them.
“You live in this apartment building?”
Raw answered. “Nope. We live far away. Just visiting a friend. What’s happening?”
Edward climbed into the car’s passenger side.
“Edward Canton, the boxer, lives in this apartment block. Do you know him?”
“We’ve seen him, but never spoken,” Raw shrugged.
The reporter thanked them and returned to his station outside the building.
“Snot face,” Edward mumbled.
“Let’s get out of here. Once we’re out you can change.”
“And the make-up?”
“Clean up at the gym. Dad will understand.”
“I’m the laughing stock of the world right now.”
On the main road Edward removed the wig and sarong and threw them onto the back seat. He got into jeans and t-shirt and put on his boots as they drove into the parking area of the gym, only to be met by another horde of reporters.
“Jesus! Don’t they give up?”
Curisco ran down the steps to meet them.
“What the fuck! You’re a woman, now?”
As Edward got out of the car, Raw said, “Long story, dad. Let’s get Edward inside.”
“Have you seen the newspapers, Edwardo?”
“You told me to ignore them.”
“Good. Come, let’s do this.”
Reporters rushed towards them, cameras flashing, and cell phones on record mode. They pushed and wiggled and followed them up the steps.
“Don’t say anything. Keep going. Keep going,” Curisco said with nervous excitement. They reached the door and shut it behind them. Anita quickly turned the key.
“Now get to the change rooms and wash that shit off your face,” Curisco said. “Raw, go with him. There’s exactly one hour left to the weigh in.”
Edward sat on a white porcelain basin while Raw gently wiped the make-up from his face.
“Angie’s right, this cold cream really works. Comes off easily.”
“You do know these reporters are going to hound me all day and night.”
“You can sleep at my place, tonight.”
“Thanks, but how do we get out of here?”
“Like Angie said, we just walk though that crowd and don’t say a word.”
Edward touched Raw’s face. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Actually, I’m not. It’s publicity for the club and our upcoming fight.”
“Maybe you’re right. The more publicity the more we stay alive.”
“That’s what we need. From tomorrow our membership is going to soar. People love a hero. They want to be in the same place. In a sense, all of this is an opportunity to grow.” Raw threw the last ball of cotton wool into the wastebasket. “Done. It’s like you never left.”
Edward kissed him. “Thank you. By the way, do I look good in drag?”
“Nope. I prefer the handsome, sexier side of you. The side you call Edward, not Edwina. Now, Edward, he’s damned perfect.”
***
“In the red corner, weighing in at 105 kilograms and out of retirement, ex-heavyweight champion, Edward Canton! And in the blue corner weighing in at 103.50 kilograms, from the People’s Republic of China, Yong Put!”
The referee approached and brought them together for the first time since the weigh-in.
“You guys know the score. You fight good. You fight clean. No kicking and nothing below the waistline.” He stepped back and called, “Fight!”
The bell rang and the two boxers circled each other like eagles on a cushion of air.
Yong Put came in wildly, aiming his jabs and hooks at Edward’s face, but like a rat in a sewer, Edward defended his head and took some taps from Put to his solar plexus. Put dominated in the first round with a few taps from Edward that caught him off guard. But the Chinese boxer danced around Edward, waiting for him to drop his guard.
Refreshed, and ready to go in the second round, Edward attacked first but Put continually wrapped him in a clinch. Out of the third clinch in two minutes, Edward rushed forward and used Put’s stomach as a punching bag, sending him colliding with the ropes. Put managed to swing around and came in with a left jab and right jab to Edward’s undefended head.
During the break Curisco wagged a finger at him. “You make sure your head is defended all the time. All the time! Tire him out. Once he’s tired, this match is yours.”
As the third round began someone in the crowd shouted, “Killer!”
Edward heard but it didn’t damage his psyche. On the contrary, his energy seemed to power up and he swung power punches at Put. Put seemed to be waiting for Edward to tire out and Edward cottoned on to that. They danced around each other for a moment and then Put began pulling punches. He had Edward in a corner, pounding him left jab, right jabs but that’s all he could offer. The upper cuts and hooks weren’t there. They clinched several times before the bell rang.
In the fourth round, Edward wanted Put out of the ring. Put swung out with a left hook but hit Edward’s elbow instead and suddenly Edward attacked with a furore that left the crowd and commentator gasping.
“Canton is unstoppable!” A commentator shouted into his microphone. “He’s doing the same thing to Put as he did three years ago to Masinga. Left jab, right jab, uppercut right hook and Put is defenceless with his face and head wide open! He’s swaying left and right with every crushing blow. I wouldn’t be surprised if the referee doesn’t stop this fight. You can hear Put’s breathe being sucked out of him with every whack of Canton’s fist. Put is on the ropes getting the beating of his life as every punch ricochets off these walls. Left, right and upper cut from Canton and…oh! The man from China goes down. Put is down! Crumpling like a rag doll to the ground. Wasted! Canton raises his fists into the air and stands aside in his corner. The referee is on the canvas with Put counting…4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9…The referee is up, but Put stays down. The bout is over, Canton is the undeniable champion with a knock out in only the fourth round. Oh my goodness, this an upset for bookies in China and South Africa! They pinned all their hopes on Put saying that Canton is washed out, that he could never hope to reach the level of perfection he had three years ago. But here we see for ourselves, Canton has disproven his critics. He’s back and I think after this fight, Canton is not going anywhere!”
In Edward’s dressing room after the fight, Curisco’s medical team examined Edward from head to toe and gave him a clean bill of health. Jubilation and champagne followed Curisco into the room and Raw rushed to Edward’s side, eagerly wrapping his arms around him and kissing him all over his face.
“You were fucking crazy in that last round, man! Fucking crazy! You did it, babe. You slayed him and proved to everyone you’re still a contender.”
Edward smiled through his exhaustion. “I couldn’t let him damage me. He had me on the ropes and I knew I had to slip through and start boxing like I know how.”
Curisco kissed Edward’s forehea
d. “You were beautiful. Beautiful!” He offered him a glass of champagne and he gulped it down, allowing the fresh, bubbly liquor to replenish his system. Curisco circled a finger above his head and everyone poured a glass.
Curisco held his glass up: “To Edward Canton – you’re back!”
Raw couldn’t keep his eyes off Edward who stared at the floor of the change room without looking up or participating in the jubilation. Something in the air bothered Raw.
Edward’s persona had changed.
In Raw’s apartment later on, whilst watching the fight on TV, Raw sat close to Edward on the couch and rested his hand on Edward’s thigh.
“You want to watch this?” Edward asked, standing.
“Sure, I mean you were fantastic.”
“I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m physically and mentally exhausted,” Edward said, heading to the main bedroom.
“Okay,” Raw mumbled, frowning. He followed Edward and stood at the door to the room. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Like I said, I’m exhausted.”
“You sure? It looks like you want to talk.”
“Don’t have the energy.”
“I’ll go and watch the end. Do you mind if I join you later?”
“Whatever.”
Raw walked away. Whatever. Whatthefuckever? Edward had never uttered those words. He disliked that word. It really meant “fuck you”. He’d have a word with Edward the next day when his body and mind had relaxed.
19
“Good morning,” Edward greeted, taking a seat at the table.
“Good morning,” Raw said, cheerfully. “I made boiled eggs on toast and a beetroot juice. Thought you might be hungry. I know you like salt and pepper with your eggs, so I went out to buy pepper earlier.”
Edward stared blankly at Raw and leaned forward, his face pensive, his eyes confirming his decision.
“I’m not fighting you, Raw.”
“Don’t you think it’s too late? We’ve signed a contract to fight each other. There is nothing more to say. I don’t want to talk about this, Ed.”