“I’d like to see Brockman try and fight this guy. He’d probably get his ass kicked,” Ripp said.
Ethan’s trainer was almost as big as Ripp, but seemed to lack Ripp’s intensity. “Why do you say that?” I asked.
“I think he’s a fuckin’ pussy.”
“Was he any good as a fighter?”
“Nobody knows. Ought to have Dekk try and find his records,” he said with a laugh. “Probably come up empty-handed.”
The referee gave his instructions and then directed the men to their corners. On his way to the corner, Ethan met my gaze, raised his right hand, and grinned.
I clenched my fist, raised my right hand, and smiled in return.
Ding!
Ripp rubbed his palms together. “Here we go.”
Ethan rushed to the center of the ring, greeting his rather large opponent with a few quick jabs. The other fighter countered with a few jabs of his own, and threw a powerful uppercut.
Ethan dodged the punch.
“God damn,” Ripp howled. “If that fucker would have connected…”
With each punch that was thrown in his direction, Ethan bobbed his head back and forth, almost taunting his opponent. In response, he grew angry, swinging more frequently and rather wildly.
“Shit, Ethan’s gonna lure this fucktard into wearin’ himself out in the first round. Look at his dumb ass throwin’ all he’s got.”
“I hope so,” I responded.
Come on, Babe. Wear him down, and then give it to him.
I pointed at Ethan’s opponent. “As soon as his gloves come down, Ethan going to give it to him.”
“Kid’s got a damned good sense of awareness. And nice defensive posture,” Ripp said.
“Which one?”
“Ethan,” he said.
“Make him come to you,” I shouted.
“Good advice,” Ripp said over his shoulder.
Ethan stepped back and raised his gloves. His opponent quickly shuffled forward, already clearly frustrated. With his right glove held lower than his chin, he seemed to be either out of shape, or preparing to throw a hard right hand.
As soon as he was within reach, he threw an uppercut. Ethan leaned back, and the punch flew past him. He countered with a straight right, which was exactly what he should have done. The punch connected well, and stopped his opponent from advancing further.
And then, Ethan threw an uppercut.
The uppercut.
The punch started with his glove at his thigh, and swung straight up into the chin of his opponent. A punch no man could recover from if it connected well, and it connected in a picture perfect manner.
There was no need for the referee to call the fight.
An official declaration wasn’t necessary.
The fight was over, and the only one who didn’t realize it was the man flat on his back at Ethan’s feet.
“Fuck yes!” Ripp howled. “That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
Ethan stepped to his corner. The referee called for a paramedic. After an extremely tense ten minutes, the man finally sat up and looked around.
We cheered as he stood up, grateful that he wasn’t hurt much worse.
“That kid’s got some fuckin’ power,” Ripp said. “You know what I think?”
I shook my head. “No, what?”
“I think Ethan needs a real trainer.”
“You?” I asked excitedly.
He nodded. “Yep.”
Oh my God.
It would make Ethan so proud to think that Ripp was willing to train him. Hell, it made me proud to hear him say it. I knew his time was extremely valuable, and other than me, he only had one other fighter he was working with. To have him work with Ethan would be a huge boost to his ego.
“Really?”
“I’m tellin’ ya, all he needs is someone who believes in him and is able to give him proper direction. Brockman don’t fuckin’ know which fuckin’ way’s up. So. Yeah. I wanna get him under my wing and turn him into a champ.”
“That’d be awesome,” I said.
“Don’t say anything to him,” Ripp said. “I want to ask him.”
“I won’t say a word.”
I felt better than I could ever remember feeling. Ever. Ethan had won again by knockout, and was going to be trained by Ripp, who he admired deeply. I couldn’t have been more proud of him, and feeling that level of pride toward another person was something new to me.
Something new and very different than what I was used to.
It was all the proof required to convince me that I cared about Ethan deeply. What I had feared admitting no longer needed to be confessed. My level of pride proved to me how I felt about Ethan.
And it was time I let him know.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jaz
Day seventy-nine.
Speaking to Ethan about my feelings was easy. I suspected it was because I felt that he wasn’t going to reject me, laugh, or run away. “So, I’ve been thinking,” I said.
He reached into the skillet with the spatula. “About?”
I watched him flip over the eggs. “Us.”
“What about us?”
“I like this,” I said.
He lifted the eggs from the skillet one by one and placed them on the plates. “Having me make breakfast?”
“No, dork. Well, I mean, yeah. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What, then?”
When he slept over, I loved how it felt so perfect. In the past, I’d always felt like there was a time when I wanted my space. With Ethan, I didn’t want my space. I wanted all the space that existed to be ours.
“Everything,” I said. “I like everything.”
“Me too.” He handed me one of the plates and turned off the stove. “Life is good.”
Men could be so aggravating. Trying to understand them was impossible sometimes. Succeeding at explain feelings to them was even worse. “Life is good. But I’m talking about the space between us.”
“What space?”
“I want it to be ours.”
He sat down and took a bite of his eggs. “You want what to be ours?”
“The space.”
“What space?”
“The space between us.”
He swallowed his food and took a drink of coffee. “I’m lost.”
No shit.
I rested my elbows on the table, pressed my palms together, and sighed. “I don’t want my space back.”
He sighed. “What space are you talking about?”
I slid my plate to the side and cleared my throat. “When you’re gone, there’s space between us. And. I. Don’t. Like It.”
He picked up his toast and took a bite from the corner. “Me neither.”
Thank God.
I reached for my plate and grinned. “Okay. Good.”
He took another bite of toast. “What are we going to do to fix it?”
“Not have the space.”
He looked past me and narrowed his eyes while he nibbled on his toast. After finishing the entire piece, he took another drink of coffee. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s never space between us.”
It was the dumbest thing I’d even heard. “How can you say that?”
He pounded his fist against his chest. “Because you’re always right here.”
It was cheesy, but I loved it nonetheless. I puckered my lips and leaned toward him. He met me halfway and kissed me, leaving toast matter on my lips. I brushed it off and grinned, still feeling like I needed more.
“When you’re gone? Like at work, or whatever? I think that’s stupid.”
In the middle of using his second piece of toast to clean the egg yolks, he looked up. His eyes were filled with confusion. “You think it’s stupid that I work?”
“No,” I said. “I think it’s stupid that you’re gone. When you come back it’s okay. It’s just dumb when you’re gone.”
He nodded like he understood, but I h
ad my doubts. He poked the toast in his mouth, chewed it, and swallowed. After a drink of coffee, he leaned back in his chair.
“You’re confusing me. Seems like you always do this when there’s something important that you want to tell me. When you’re not trying to tell me something I get much better information.” He chuckled. “When you’re on a mission, it’s really tough to figure out what you’re thinking. Can we start over?”
I fucking swear, men are so stupid sometimes.
“I don’t ever want to be without you.”
He took another sip of coffee and gazed in my direction. His eyes – and the look on his face – confirmed he felt the same way. “I don’t ever want to be without you, either,” he said.
It appeared we were on the same page. I took a deep breath. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”
He started coughing, and it lasted until he stood up.
My heart sank.
Looming over me and attempting to catch his breath, he looked down and shook his head.
“Shit,” he said. “I fell in love with you a long fucking time ago. Where have you been?”
You did?
My eyes widened. “Really?”
He coughed a few more times, grinned, then nodded. “Really.”
I felt warm. The all over kind of warm. I swallowed hard and stood up. “I might have done the same.”
He spread his arms wide. “Let’s make an agreement.”
I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth and swallowed again. “Okay.”
“What did you call it earlier? The space between us?”
“Uh huh.”
“Let’s just agree that we’re always together in here.” He pressed the palm of his hand against my boobs. Eventually, it came to rest over my heart.
My heartbeat increased tenfold. He smiled. I smiled in return. “Okay.”
“If we do that,” he said. “We’ll never be apart.”
Never apart.
It was exactly what I was after.
TWENTY-NINE
Jaz
Day eighty-two.
Ripp had called me to a meeting with Shane Dekkar to discuss what he found out from USA Boxing. Eager to find out what my record was and if we could use it in my promotions, I agreed to meet, but insisted that Ethan come along.
If Ethan was going to be included in my future, he needed to be included in decisions about my future.
With Ethan at my side, I knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
I pushed the door open and peered inside. Kelsey and Ripp stood at the front edge of the champ’s desk, laughing and talking. As soon as we stepped through the door, the talking stopped.
I couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about.
The champ stood up and extended his hand. “Ethan.”
Ethan shook his hand.
He released Ethan’s hand and shook mine. “Jaz.”
I smiled. “Mr. Dekkar.”
“Dekk, or Shane, please.”
I grinned. “I like Dekk.”
“Then call me Dekk.”
“Glad that’s settled.” Ripp chuckled.
“Spaz,” Kelsey said with a nod.
I rolled my eyes at him and positioned myself beside Ripp. “What did you find out? I’m guessing something or you wouldn’t have called me, huh?”
He sat down at his desk. “As with all amateurs there’s what actually happened, and what’s official. They’re never the same. Trainers, managers, record keepers, there’s always messing with numbers. So, with you, all we know is what’s official.”
He reached for a folder, opened it, and met my gaze. “Care to guess?”
I shrugged.
“Ethan? You care to guess?”
I hadn’t told Ethan anything about my previous record. Not telling him was out of respect more than anything, and for me to maintain a healthy level of humility. In short, I didn’t want to seem pretentious or conceited about my career.
He shrugged. “I really don’t know.” He glanced at me, then reached for my hand. While holding my hand in his, he continued. “We haven’t talked about it. She asked me to come to support her in making decisions about her future.”
Dekk nodded.
“Just fuckin’ say it. I swear. You and your beatin’ around the bush bullshit. Tell her,” Ripp complained.
“Wins, one hundred and thirty-two. Including the wins here at the gym, one hundred and thirty-five. One hundred and thirty-five official wins.” He glanced at each and every person in the room.
My heart pounded. It was exciting to know the official numbers, although I suspected they would be something close to what he said. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t that impressive. I was young, and the girls I fought weren’t as well-trained as me. I wondered how Ethan felt regarding everything. I began to feel guilty for bringing him. For his sake, I wished my record didn’t have as many wins. I squeezed his hand.
He squeezed mine in return.
“Care to hear the losses?” Dekk asked.
I glanced at Ethan. He smiled. I looked at Dekk and shrugged. “Sure.”
“Let me see if I can find it.” He traced his finger along the surface of the paper. It came to a stop at a location out of view to all of us. “Oh, wait. Yeah, here it is.”
He looked up. “Zero.”
My heart raced. “Zero?”
He nodded. “Officially, zero. Officially, you’re 135-0. Officially, you have a better record than I do. Officially, your record is one of the most impressive records out there. Oscar De La Hoya was 223-5 as an amateur. Kid Chocolate’s amateur record was 100-0…”
“Donald Curry’s was 400-4,” Kelsey interrupted. “Amateur record, that is.”
“The point we’re making, Jaz, is this.” He dropped the file onto the desk. “Your record is impressive. You’re impressive.”
I squeezed Ethan’s hand. “Thank you.”
“This information? It’s public record. Anyone can obtain it. All they have to do is ask. I’ve taken the liberties to leak it out to a few people, and for good reason.”
He looked at Kelsey and then Ripp. He inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled. He fixed his eyes on me. “Do you know who Shay Simpson is?”
Ethan squeezed my hand firmly. I squeezed back. My throat tightened. “Shockwave? Shay Shockwave Simpson?”
He chuckled. “That’s her.”
Everyone knew who Shockwave Simpson was, even if they didn’t follow women’s boxing. She was on the news constantly. She was in movies, magazines, commercials, everything. When she wasn’t in a fight defending her title, she was talking shit on whoever was preparing to fight her next. Her tasteless quotations were all over Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. It was so bad that a #shockwave search on Google or Twitter would produce thousands of her ridiculous remarks.
“She’s the champ,” I said. “135 pounds of bad ass, that’s who she is. Everyone knows her, she’s on ESPN talking shit on people all the time.”
Everyone laughed. Dekk inhaled another deep breath and then folded his arms in front of his chest. “How’d you like to fight her one day?”
“I’d love to fight her someday,” I said excitedly. “Her, or someone like her. That’s my dream.”
“What if a chance like that came, oh, as soon as next month?”
I coughed out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
There was no way Shockwave Simpson would fight me. She fought women who had been in the pros for years, most of which she considered to be her rivals. She and her opponents bickered back and forth on Twitter, sending out tweets about each other, building up hype for the upcoming fights.
“Let me explain something,” Dekk said.
“Can I sit down?” I asked.
He laughed. “Sure.”
“Well.” I pointed at Ripp and Kelsey. “Everyone’s standing. I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.”
“Nothing to be nervous about,” he said. “We’r
e all family here.”
Shane Dekkar appeared to be the opposite of Shockwave Simpson. He was just a down to earth guy who happened to be a great boxer, and it was easy to admire him.
I counted the available chairs.
Three.
“Sit down,” I whispered, pointing to a chair beside Ethan. “I’ll sit on your lap.”
Ethan didn’t argue, and quickly took the seat. I sat on his lap and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt comfortable in his arms.
Protected.
I nestled in Ethan’s lap and looked up. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Dekk looked around the room. “Championship fights are more about money than anything. During training, there are times when either the challenger or the champion gets hurt. If that happens, their team keeps it quiet. A leak to the press of an injury will change the odds on the fight, and have a huge effect on the money bet – and potentially earned – in places like Las Vegas. But, people do get hurt. Typically, what happens – and we’ve all seen it – the injured party doesn’t make an official statement until right before the fight. They wait in hope of the injury getting better, and when it’s apparent it won’t or can’t, they claim injury and step aside.”
It made sense, but I had no idea what it had to do with me. If he felt it was important enough to tell me, I figured it must have been significant. So, as he continued to explain, I paid close attention.
“The problem when there’s an injury right before a fight is scheduled to be fought is that tickets have already been sold, venues have been rented, and money’s been spent. Cancelling the fight as a whole would cost millions.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“Theresa Shunk sprained her ankle last week. The official statement will come from her camp tomorrow. She can’t do anything for eight weeks, so she can’t fight Shay Simpson next month. The problem? No one will fight Simpson on such short notice. There’s only three weeks to prepare, and fighters who had hoped to fight her in the future aren’t going to embarrass themselves by stepping in and being beat when they feel if they had time to train that they’d actually win. But the money’s been spent. The venue? The MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Already rented. The tickets? Sold out. Pay-per-view has taken in millions. Shay Simpson’s camp needs someone to fight her, and that someone needs to have a record that tells the fans that it will be a great fight.”
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