by Jinx, Hondo
Freddie nodded.
Johnny gave her another squirt of water, massaging the back of her hot and sweaty neck with one hand.
Glancing across the ring, he saw Washington gasping for breath and leaning around her trainer to look in Freddie’s direction.
“I need you to dig deep now, baby,” Marvella said. “Need to you to remember why you’re here, what’s at stake. What’s this girl trying to do?”
“Take everything,” Freddie said, scowling. “Take Daddy away.”
“That’s right. And you are terrified. Remember that. Every second of this round. You are scared shitless. That’s why you’re gonna punish her slow ass this round, right? That’s right. She’s gonna come right at you. But she’s tired. Let her go for a minute. Then double up on that jab. Listen for Johnny. When he yells ‘drop it,’ you drop the fucking hammer, all right? Put that right hand on her. You feel me, baby?”
“I hear you.”
“Seconds out!” the ref shouted.
Marvella held Freddie’s cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. “You love your dad, Freddie?”
Freddie nodded emphatically.
“You want him back?”
Freddie nodded, smashing her gloves together.
“Then go slay this fucking monster!”
Freddie shot to her feet, a fierce light blazing in her eyes. She turned to Johnny without looking, and he slipped in her mouthpiece and took the stool, and they went back down to ringside as the bell rang.
The fighters touched gloves for the last round and then just as Marvella predicted, Washington surged, throwing a series of wild shots.
Freddie danced away, slipping from side to side and easily evading the shots, risking an occasional jab.
A minute in, Washington slowed.
“Blew her load,” Marvella said with a predatory smile. “Tell Freddie to double up now.”
Feeling a surge of excitement, Johnny cupped his hands at the sides of his mouth and shouted, “Double up, Freddie! Double up now.”
Instantly, Freddie caught her plodding opponent with a lightning-fast double jab that snapped Washington’s head back.
“That’s it, Freddie!” Johnny shouted. “Again!”
Washington failed to adapt. In her first four outings, her strength and power must have been enough. But now she needed more and couldn’t switch gears.
Washington kept chasing Freddie, slowing with each passing second and winging wilder and wilder punches.
Freddie found her rhythm. In and out, in and out, crack-crack, less lateral movement now, crack-crack, double jab and step back, not so far back now, letting Washington swing and miss, then surging back in again, crack-crack.
Johnny watched, barely able to breathe, the three-minute clock ingrained now in his skull ticking down to its final sixty seconds.
“Now,” Marvella said.
“Drop it!” Johnny shouted.
Freddie cracked her, pop-pop, with a beautiful double jab, but didn’t leap away this time. She held her ground and twisted hard, throwing a beautiful right that split Washington’s guard and caught her flush and sent her reeling.
Freddie chased after her, firing straight shots as Washington hit the ropes and covered up.
Smelling blood, the crowd went wild.
“Tell her to stay back,” Marvella said. “Keep her distance.”
“Straight shots!” Johnny shouted. “Stay back!”
Freddie stayed outside, resisting the temptation every fighter feels when she has her opponent hurt, and thereby avoided Washington’s wild counters.
A good thing, because a hurt fighter is a dangerous fighter, even with her back to the ropes. Especially with her back to the ropes if you aren’t careful.
But Freddie was careful, and she unloaded with a steady stream of long, straight shots, one-two-one-two, nothing fancy, left-right-left-right, never overcommitting, rolling her shoulders, using every inch of her reach advantage, and never creeping forward into the danger zone, battering Washington’s gloves and occasionally slipping one through her guard, until, when the timekeeper pounded the ring apron, one of Freddie’s right hands smashed home, and Washington crumpled to the canvas.
The ref stepped between them, pointing to the neutral corner.
Freddie ran to the white turnbuckle as the crowd screamed, and the ref counted, “Three! Four! Five!”
Washington climbed to her feet, thumping her gloves together.
Freddie was half-crouched like a cat ready to pounce, her tail flicking behind her.
The ref stepped back, studying Washington, and gestured for her to come to him.
Washington raised her gloves and stepped forward, Freddie charged out of her corner, and the bell rang.
The crowd erupted, and Johnny ran up the steps.
Freddie and Washington embraced at the center of the ring, and Freddie came running over to the corner as Johnny and Marvella slipped through the ropes, Johnny ecstatic as he hugged Freddie.
“Great job, baby,” Marvella said, hugging her. “Another monster slain.”
Johnny hugged Freddie, grinning so hard he felt like his head would split in half.
He had never been so happy in his life.
Plucking her mouthpiece, he said, “I’m so proud of you, Freddie!”
“Thanks, Johnny,” Freddie said and looked at Marvella. “I did it, right? I’m done waiting?”
Grinning, Marvella nodded.
“Oh man,” Freddie said, eyes gleaming as she reached up and grabbed Johnny by the back of the head. “I’ve wanted this so bad for so long!”
She drew his mouth down to hers, and they kissed passionately, hugging over the ropes as the crowd cheered.
When their lips finally parted, Freddie said, “I love you, Johnny Rockledge.”
Johnny’s heart surged. “I love you, too, Freddie Lopez. I’ve loved you for a long time.”
And that’s how Johnny’s previous happiest moment was dethroned after mere seconds.
Chapter 41
The ref called the fighters back to the center of the ring and lifted Freddie’s ungloved right fist in the air as the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers. “The winner by unanimous decision, fighting out of the blue corner, wrapping up her novice career at a perfect 5-0, representing the Eighth Street Gym and all of the Ward, ‘Fearless’ Freddie Lopez!”
Mr. Trongo met them as they exited the ring.
“Beautiful fight, Freddie,” Trongo said, holding her glove in his gold-knuckled hands. The two blondes stood directly behind him, smiling and waiting. They were half his age and looked like they did a lot of smiling and waiting.
“Thank you, Mr. Trongo,” Freddie said. “I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t think you’d come to some small Thursday night card on Hog Island.”
“And miss your final novice bout? Not for the world, my dear, not for the world.” Trongo slapped Johnny’s shoulder. “Hottest prospect to come out of the Ward in years.”
Johnny nodded.
“You remind me of a female Ray Leonard,” Trongo said. “Marvella, you’re the best. The absolute best. The two of you together? Unstoppable. But hey, Freddie, you got a minute? My day tomorrow is absolutely bonkers, but we need to talk, all right? Tonight work for you? Marvella? Can we talk a little business?”
Marvella nodded gravely. “Let us turn in these gloves and get changed. See you in fifteen?”
Trongo grinned over his shoulder at the clamoring crowd from the Ward. “Fifteen minutes? Forget about it. Take your time, all right? Freddie’s a big star now. Everybody can feel that. She’s gonna be signing a lot of autographs before you reach the locker room.” He smiled, showing those perfect white teeth in all their splendor, and patted Freddie’s arm. “Just don’t go signing any contracts before we talk, all right, Freddie?”
“Okay, Mr. Trongo,” Freddie laughed.
“Wonderful. A wonderful fight, a wonderful night. Come on up to my suite, all right? We got a nice bar, some
finger food. You hungry? We’ll order room service. Anything you want, all right?”
He gave them the number, and they split up.
Everyone from the Ward mobbed Freddie on her way back to the locker room, slapping her back and screaming their congratulations.
Freddie soaked it up, showing everybody her million-dollar smile, thanking everyone for coming out, and pausing to sign numerous fight programs.
Johnny was beyond happy for her. And for himself. And for her.
His mind still spun with what had happened after the fight. That kiss…
But even more than the kiss, the words they had exchanged.
She loved him. She loved him just as he loved her.
He’d figured she loved him, but thinking something and hearing the words… well, that’s just about as different as watching the fights is from actually fighting.
He couldn’t imagine being any happier.
Freddie had important business with Trongo, he knew; but meanwhile, all Johnny wanted to do was kiss her again.
Chapter 42
They got back to the Ward after midnight.
As they pulled into the parking lot, Johnny broke his kiss with Freddie and gasped for air. Well, that was certainly a better way to train his endurance than running steps.
Their hands strayed, exploring each other’s bodies as they kissed, but stayed strictly over their clothing. Freddie felt as good as she looked, even through the fabric of her shirt. She purred softly when he caressed her furry ear.
Freddie’s fingers showed interest, too. They drifted over his body and even danced delicately across his lap. One time, her hand lingered there and rubbed back and forth across his hardness. Feeling him, she moaned softly and shuddered but withdrew her hand.
Marvella parked the gigantic green rust bucket behind the gym, and they got out, Johnny holding the spit bucket in front of him to hide the embarrassing, throbbing bulge in his lap.
The three of them gathered their gear and fell for a second into one of those moments of sudden reckoning and silent anticipation, when friends reaching the end of a long and momentous night simultaneously realize everything has changed forever.
Before anyone could put it into words, Marvella said, “Who’s up for a beer?”
They dropped their gear in the gym then walked over to Pryor Street and went into a packed bar called The Hawk.
They found a booth in the back, near the pool tables, the whole place hazy with cigarette smoke and vibrating with upbeat jazz music.
A black-haired catgirl waitress took their order and appeared almost instantly with three massive, frosted mugs of cult-neg beer.
Johnny hoisted his mug. “To Fearless Freddie Lopez, 5-0, fighter of the night.”
The girls raised their mugs, and everyone drank.
Marvella lifted her mug for another toast. “To you two. I wish you happiness. But if you fuck up your training, I will kick your asses.”
Laughing, Johnny and Freddie drank to her congratulatory threat.
Marvella lit a cigarette.
“Hey,” Freddie protested, “you said no smoking.”
“No smoking for you two athletes,” Marvella said, and took a drag. “My fighting days are over, baby.”
“Yeah, but you still gotta watch your health.”
“I get by.”
Freddie raised her brows and frowned but didn’t bother to voice her disagreement. Even here, even drinking, Marvella was still their trainer.
“So what you gonna do, baby girl?” Marvella said. “About Trongo, I mean.”
Freddie’s frowned deepened. “I don’t know.”
“Tell Trongo to get in line,” Marvella said. “He talks all that sweet shit, says you’re such a prospect—which is true, baby; you’re the it girl right now, you really are—but tell that rich old man to put his money where his mouth is.”
“Yeah,” Freddie said, and bit her lip. “But I mean, a thousand bucks is a lot of money. Takes me five months working at the pool to make that much.”
“Shit,” Marvella said, “I can get you fights. You win a few more, get the managers into a bidding war, you could make two, three times that much, easy. Hell, maybe even ten grand, you hold out a bit longer, get some noteworthy scalps on your belt. More than that if you win the city championship before signing.”
Freddie’s eyes bulged. Johnny could tell she was terrified by the idea of waiting that long to sign.
He’d seen her anxiety building back on Hog Island when they’d all gone up to Trongo’s suite.
Trongo had suggested that Johnny hang out in the suite bar with his two wives, but Freddie shook her head. “Johnny and I are partners. We do everything together. I want him to hear this, too.”
“Fair enough,” Trongo had said, and he’d made his pitch to all three of them.
Now, Marvella said, “Plus, you get them bidding, you might get a stipend thrown in. Tell them, look, I want to win, so I gotta train harder. Now, pay me enough so I don’t have to work at the pool no more.”
“That would be nice,” Freddie said, but fear haunted her eyes. “It’s such a risk, though. Next fight, I’m in the open class. They could match me with anyone. The city champ, a national champ, anyone. And if I lose…”
“Don’t lose, then,” Marvella said, and squinted as she took a drag off her cigarette.
“Yeah,” Freddie laughed. “Good plan. What do you think, Johnny?”
“I agree with Marvella,” Johnny said. “I’ll put my money on you every time.”
“Thanks, Johnny,” she said, leaning into him. “I don’t know. If it was just the money, maybe. But that ring. I keep thinking how much it would help me. You’re always saying, Marvella, how getting a good manager, a good relationship with your manager, can help you in a lot of ways, more than just getting fights. I see that now. I mean, that ring would change everything.”
Johnny remembered the way Freddie’s eyes had gleamed when Trongo brought out the juice bling, a golden hoop earring that would greatly increase a fighter’s cultivation. The things cost thousands of dollars, she’d explained during the ride home. If she started wearing it now, she would probably up her juice by a few points prior to the city championship.
And a few points could make all the difference.
Marvella spread her hands. “It’s not an easy choice, baby. And only you can make it. You’re right. It’s a risk. The money, the ring. That would be nice. And there are no guarantees in boxing. So when you get one, yeah, it’s tempting. But what are you giving up? I have faith in you, Freddie. And I don’t say that often.”
Freddie smiled brightly. “Thanks, Marvella. That means the world to me. Really. No matter what I decide. That means the world to me. And thanks for helping me get here. I mean, I wouldn’t be talking about money and bling if it weren’t for you. I never would have made it to 5-0.”
“True,” Marvella said, grinning, and lifted her beer.
Freddie turned her pretty face to blink up at Johnny. “And thank you, Johnny. Thank you for pushing me and making me better. These last several weeks together have been awesome, better than anything I could have imagined, anything I ever could have dared to dream could be possible. I love working out with you and being with you and, well, just to be clear, I meant what I said in the ring.”
She hesitated, blushing as she studied his face, a new fear perhaps at work in her.
Johnny beat her to the punch. “I meant it, too. I love you, Freddie. I really love you.”
Freddie beamed. “I love you, too.” She laughed. “It feels so weird to say it out loud. I mean, I’ve felt it for so long, you know? But now I’m actually saying it. It feels good. I like saying it.”
“So say it,” Johnny said.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
They kissed.
Marvella set down her mug and wiped a forearm across her grinning lips. “You two. I’m getting the fuck out of here before you make me sick. Don’t drin
k too much, you feel me? I don’t care if you’re drinking cult-neg beer. It’s still beer. Go ahead and have your fun. But not too much fun. You know what I mean, Lopez. And take tomorrow off. You earned it, both of you. Have a few beers tonight, catch a buzz, but don’t get hammered, you feel me?”
Freddie saluted.
“Gotcha,” Johnny said.
Marvella stubbed out her cigarette and motioned to the bartender.
“Put your money away, Marvella,” Johnny said. “Tonight’s on me.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I should thank you, too. For training me, I mean.”
Marvella gave him a crooked smile. “If you’re thanking me, that means I haven’t worked you hard enough yet. That’s ten extra sets of steps on Monday—before sparring.”
“Great,” Johnny groaned.
Marvella hugged Freddie, congratulating her again but said no more about the big decision awaiting her.
The trainer pounded fists with Johnny and left them alone.
Johnny touched Freddie’s face gently, stroking a thumb over the darkening mouse beneath her eye. Then he leaned down and kissed the bruise.
“You missed,” Freddie said, and pointed to her grin.
Laughing, he leaned in, and for a long time, they just held each other, kissing deeply, coming up every few minutes to breathe and smile at each other and again voice their mutual love.
The waitress brought them two new beers compliments of someone at the bar.
They glanced over and saw an older couple smiling at them. The woman waved. The man gave Freddie a double thumbs-up.
“They were at your fight,” the waitress said. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Aw, that’s so nice of them,” Freddie said, and started to get up.
“Don’t bother going over,” the waitress said, laying a hand on Freddie’s shoulder. “They said they didn’t want to bother you. They’re big fight fans. Tim and Gina. They’re always buying fighters drinks. From what I hear, you’re pretty good. 5-0?”