The Art of Being Tony (Tony Winters Book 1)

by P. S. Power

  For dinner that night, he decided to try and make something.

  It was kind of hard, since he had a fairly minimal pool of things he could eat, but there was also one thing that he could actually cook. Hamburgers. So, Anthony got back first and made another salad and then some hamburger patties. They didn’t have buns, so he toasted some bread with butter on it, in the oven. Not for him, but that seemed like a thing. After all, he’d seen that on television once.

  That did not go well.

  Just as they were getting back, the smoke started to billow out of the silver box, which of course had the home owner wondering if the place was on fire. It wasn’t that bad, really, though he burned his fingers pulling the flat sheet out of the oven, the rag he was using not protecting him well enough. That bumped the pan the meat was in, which hit the floor, face down. Just as Rick and Jen got into the room, naturally.

  “Argh.” He yelled that a bit, feeling both hurt, from the burns and embarrassed. Wasting food was a big deal. In this case, he had to figure that he was about to be beaten for it. That had happened almost every time he’d ever spilled anything, as a kid.

  Instead of doing that, Jen just turned the stove off and looked at the oven, then the charred and still burning black bread. It wasn’t supposed to be that color and a flash of something passed over her face, but she didn’t start by screaming. Simply cleaning up.

  “Um… You probably don’t want to broil things on high like that. Not unless you’re going to stare at the window and check it every ten seconds. I… get the idea, though. Very fancy. I think we should switch to something else? That way we don’t have to eat off of the floor.”

  Then Rick took a deep breath and shook his head.

  “Yup. Don’t sweat it. It looks like we have a good salad already? We can work from there.”

  Then, even if they were probably tired, having worked all day, training and sweating… They both helped clean up and fix his mess. Anthony didn’t really know how to respond to that. There should have been screaming, hitting and probably him being at least threatened with being kicked out. Instead they were both acting like it was just a thing. A mistake that you fixed and then went on with your day.

  It was confusing, if he wanted to be honest about it.

  “Sorry. I was trying to be useful.” He sounded a bit pissed, but didn’t want them to think it was about them, somehow. “I sort of blew it.”

  Jenny smiled at him and patted him on the back. Then she hugged him. Just with one arm, but she did it.

  “It happens when you’re first learning things. Hey, just wait until you lose your first three fights. It will feel like you can’t do it at all, when really, it’s just that we’re planning to put you up against near professionals all the time, so that you keep learning.” She smiled and winked at him.

  Rick however, nodded, as if it were serious.

  “The real point is that this isn’t a big deal. Mistakes happen. The trick is in how well you recover from them. Do you find the error and fix it, or give up immediately and complain about things being hard?” The words sounded wise, for some reason. Probably because he was handling things so calmly.

  That meant he had to think of things in a new way. In this case, it meant handling the goof, somehow. The mess was cleaned up, so he nodded and looked at Jen.

  “Um, can you help me make this again? Tell me what to do, I mean?”

  She nodded and didn’t even do it all for him, having him do it, with only a few tips, a couple of times. They sat down at the table, the room reeking of smoke even with the windows open and a fan turned on. It was better, but not perfect at all. Still, they ate their cruddy little toasted sandwiches and didn’t complain about his lack of kitchen skills. Anthony had a single meat patty, with lettuce and tomato. Some onion as well. It was cooked, but unseasoned and he hadn’t really understood that was something people had been doing.

  “I need to learn how to do this stuff. For real, I mean. I swear, I can open a mean can of ravioli. This healthy stuff…” Anthony shook his head, still feeling bad and like the other shoe was about to drop.

  Rick laughed a bit, though it wasn’t mean seeming.

  “You’ll pick it up. I know when I first started eating healthy food I almost went insane. I mean, macaroni and cheese comes from a box, with a little flavor packet, right? Normally made with water and some oil, if you’re lucky, even if it does call for milk and butter.”

  Jen looked at Rick, as Anthony tilted his head.

  “Um… Isn’t that right? I mean I’ve never had it any other way. Milk… I’ve heard of that, I think. That’s the blue stuff?”

  They’d even had it a few times. Deirdre didn’t like it much and you needed a fridge for that to work, but a few of her friends had managed that kind of thing, on occasion. At school, too. Not that it had been a regular part of his diet, but he had been around it a few times.

  That just got a wide eyed expression.

  “Yep, just like that. I mean, Deirdre and I grew up in a decent home, but our mom can’t cook her way out of a paper bag. We ate out five nights a week. Now, dad isn’t bad in the kitchen, but he works most of the time, so we did everything out of boxes. Mac and cheese, Hamburger Helper, that kind of stuff.”

  It took a second to pick up on what was being said there. Finally, after taking a few bites of dry salad, Anthony looked at the far wall.

  “Mom never mentioned any of you. I mean, not really. I kind of thought that her parents were dead.”

  Rick rolled his eyes then.

  “Yeah… They do not get along. If they did, you probably would have been with them and not Deirdre, a long time ago. I…” He had more to say, but stopped himself and ate for a bit. “You should meet. They’re nice people. Your grandparents, I mean.”

  No one spoke for a while after that. Not until the phone rang. Jenny jumped up to answer it, her voice pleasant sounding.

  “Hello?”

  Then, as she listened, her body language shifted.

  “Crap. Let me get Rick. One second.” She looked at her boyfriend and winced, covering the phone with one hand. “Steve is having a fight with his girlfriend, Gloria.” The man dashed over, as if those words were a code for something.

  Hopefully not a major conflict, since Steve going off to prison wouldn’t be helpful at all. Apparently that was what Rick was thinking, too.

  “That sounds pretty intense. I’ll be right over. You can stay here tonight and deal with this later, okay?” They had to talk about that for a while, it seemed. On the good side, it sounded like Steve was sober.

  Not so much of that from the woman screaming at him in the background.

  When he hung up, Rick glanced over at Anthony and explained.

  “Gloria isn’t exactly into the idea of her man spending ten hours a day training. She likes the money, when he wins, but can’t see that getting there takes more than showing up on fight night. This… Isn’t a great thing. He has a fight in four weeks. I’d hoped that she’d manage to hold this stuff for a while. Freaking hell.” The man moved to walk out, grabbing his jacket and car keys as he left.

  After the door shut, Jen winced, looking at Anthony.

  “Sorry. This is one of the pitfalls of being a manager or trainer. You have to help manage messes like this. Really, Steve can do better. Granted, Gloria is hot, but that’s pretty much all she’s bringing to the relationship. We could select random women from the street and they’d all be a better match for Steve. He isn’t exactly hard to like after all.” Then, as if it made sense, she winced again. “Also, you just got here. We should be spending time on you, not this kind of stuff. Instead we’re gone all day and working you like a horse.”

  Anthony had no clue what he was supposed to say, or even think. It couldn’t be her job to care about him at all. Rick might be concerned about Steve, since he was kind of tied to the fighter and that made sense. Jen however, wasn’t his mother.

  He could tell, because she wasn’t using drugs and
getting ready to go out with friends.

  “Don’t worry about that. What do we need to do to help Steve?” Getting him drunk was out of the question, given everything. That was the only thing he had, though. Drugs, alcohol and possibly finding him another woman. All he had there at the moment was Jen though, which wasn’t happening. After all, Rick would object to that and there was no way that kind of thing wouldn’t end up with violence.

  The blonde woman, who wasn’t all that old, didn’t seem to have an answer for that. She was clearly struggling to come up with something, but finally she just made a hard looking face.

  “All we can do is be there for him. We’re family. That’s what family does.”

  Then she left to do something, so Anthony cleaned up the rather poor offering that he’d managed for dinner. Interestingly, Rick didn’t come back quickly at all. At about nine, feeling pretty tired, Anthony turned in, figuring that they’d get him up if there was a problem he could help with. Hopefully the cops hadn’t gotten involved. That wasn’t going to end well for anyone, especially Steve, if it happened. The police loved to arrest guys for no reason, if they could. It was pretty much their job.

  In the morning, he woke up early and found that, even if it was time to get up, everyone else was still asleep. At least they weren’t around. Not knowing what he was supposed to do, Anthony kind of floundered for a bit. Most of the time, after a hard night, people slept the next day away. If they had that option. The problem here was that no one was supposed to have a rest day, at least as far as training went.

  “So, what would Tony, the wonder-kid do?” Anthony took a deep breath and still froze in place. The problem there was that he didn’t really know.

  Tony wasn’t a real person, just the game he was playing, trying not to be kicked out of the new place he was staying in. Waking people up was a risk, but if he didn’t and they needed to be up and around, then he’d be letting them down. So doing either thing was probably the wrong one.

  Gritting his teeth, he thought for a moment and then got some grapefruit out of the fridge and peeled them all like an orange. It was harder to do than it looked like, but he didn’t really know how to make eggs, so that was what they were getting. Then he sectioned it out, since that was what he’d seen done before, his first day there and set four plates on the table. If Rick and Steve had made it in, they’d need that. If not, Jen probably wouldn’t notice, as she scrambled to get their bail money. Then, hoping he wasn’t being an asshole, he knocked on the bedroom door.

  No one did anything, probably trying to cover their heads with pillows, so he did it again. That got Rick to open the door, looking bleary enough for Anthony to feel bad.

  “It’s a training day. Unless… Do we take them off for things like this?” He didn’t know and while he was still sore, it had diminished enough that he could do it, if that was the plan.

  “Ugh. No. This is the right call. Steve is upstairs, across the hall from you, can you get him around? I’ll wake Jenny.”

  That took some pounding, but five minutes later Steve got to the door, looking pretty horrible. Just from exhaustion.

  Anthony winced, hard, but didn’t let him speak.

  “We’re doing a double run today. You’ll want something to eat first. Come on.” What made him say that, he didn’t know, but it sounded like a plan to him. The other option would be stewing on things that no one there could fix. That was the problem with relationships. They always hinged on what other people did.

  “Fudge. Yeah man. I’ll be down in a few minutes?”

  “Cool. Just remember, if you aren’t, I’m not going away.”

  That got him called a name that was half muffled by the door closing, but there were people getting ready about fifteen minutes later. No one mentioned the meager offering for breakfast either, just digging in, as if it might actually be okay. When they were done, Anthony got up, stretched a bit and groaned.

  “Steve and I are going right into the run. Have everyone else ready at nine, waiting out front? They only have to do six miles. This time. Whoever comes in last has to do twelve tomorrow, though, so tell them that? If you do it, it will seem real.” He sounded bossy, rather than playful. Grumpy, even if he didn’t have a real reason to be.

  No one even mentioned it. In fact, Rick just stood up and clapped a few times.

  “Hardcore. I’ll pass the word. Just keep that in mind when you’re doing twelve full rounds later this afternoon…. Since I’m setting you up with whoever comes in last, if it isn’t you.” That, apparently was both a threat and funny, since everyone else laughed.

  The run was decent, but not really fast, since as he mentioned to Steve, they needed to save a little for the second half.

  “Not that I don’t have to do this again tomorrow. But I don’t want to do it alone, you know?”

  “No doubt. Come on then, hombre. Let’s do this insane and poorly thought out thing!”

  Which wasn’t wrong, though they both made it well enough and managed not to come in last place for the second six miles. It wasn’t even Mark, since he really pulled out the stops, trying to avoid the extra work. That meant Denny and Ashley tied, coming in just ahead of him and Dani cheated, pulling down Dave’s sweats, underwear and all, leaving him mainly naked on the street, while she passed him. Lewis wasn’t there, having to work.

  Instead of calling out that it was unfair, Dave just looked annoyed when he got into place.

  “You do know who’s getting that treatment next, don’t you Dani?” There was pointing then, as the woman laughed.

  “Don’t be mad just cause I’m smarter than you. Running man.”

  Steve, rallying a bit after his long night, slapped Dave on the arm.

  “No worries, you get to go twelve rounds with Tony here, today, since it was all his idea. Rick set it up so you could get your revenge in a timely fashion.”

  The man nodded, smiling a little. He was a lot larger after all, which was an advantage. He was also in pretty good shape, being strong and generally fit. Not the fastest person maybe, but Anthony figured that he was in for enough of a beating to make everyone feel all right about his horrible little game.

  Like the extra effort was going to hurt anyone.

  Dave surprised him a little bit then.

  “MMA or boxing? I’m in for either, but have been training for a real fight.”

  Ash shrugged then and grinned over at Denny.

  “You got him up to speed for boxing in four hours, right? Teach him to roll in that time and we’ll have to call you a god among fighters.”

  The man smiled, but rolled his eyes, then stopped and nodded.

  “Yeah. Twelve five minute rounds. At three, this afternoon. MMA rules.”

  Then, pulling on Anthony’s arm, the man led him away at a fast walk.

  “This is going to be brutal. I won’t even kid you, you aren’t winning, or even looking all that good. What I can do is teach you the basics and drill you on that. Use that and your standing skills. The goal will be in making him fight you on his feet. He’s pretty much an elite wrestler, but he has good kicks and hand skills. Ready?”

  Trying to think like his new alter ego, he nodded.

  “Why not? What do I need to know?”

  It was a whole lot and Denny was right, he wasn’t going to get all of it. Worse, to teach him how to do it meant getting him close to being exhausted before the sparring even started. If boxing was hard that way, grappling was at least as bad. The trick, he was assured, would be resting every part of his body that he could, while not letting the other man get at his arms, legs or neck.

  If that happened, he pretty much would be done and have to tap out.

  Denny grinned at him and had him shower and change, for comfort, before the three o’clock session. It was in the octagon made of mats on the first floor and the thing was, for some ridiculous reason, ringed with people that had come to watch him be beaten, strangled and humiliated.

  “Yay, I have friends.�
�� Some of the people waved at least and he really did recognize them.

  Jenny was the one officiating for them, her face serious.

  “You both know the rules. No eye gouging and no groin strikes, if you lose gloves or a mouthpiece, I’ll stop the fight until it’s fixed. The same with any cuts. Any questions?”

  They didn’t get headgear, since that wasn’t how anyone practiced MMA apparently. Feeling bold, crowd or not, Anthony smiled and waved both hands at part of the audience.

  “Yes, can you leave a gap in the line over there? That way I won’t kick anyone when I run away.”

  People laughed, until they started.

  Then, just like Denny had promised, it was brutal. On the good side, he managed to keep a lot of it standing, by jumping away from the other man as Dave tried several different takedowns. Each time he floated back and hit the man in the head. They wore special gloves that let them grab too and finally, near the end of the first round, the other man managed to take him to the mat. Then it was forty seconds of him scrambling to confuse things by hitting constantly, while the other man jockeyed for the perfect position. Thankfully, just before he got an arm-bar set, the bell rang.

  He was gasping for breath hard, while Dave seemed nearly relaxed. Calm, too. Then, he wasn’t the one that had been fighting desperately not to lose the whole time. After that he learned a few things he hadn’t known. For instance, you could elbow people in the head, in MMA. That hadn’t been mentioned at all, but did fit in with the no eye gouging and no groin shot rules. Instead of doing that back he managed to get up, running in a circle, no doubt comically and coming back with the one kick he knew. A stomp to the knee.

  That didn’t land, but he was able to step in for an exchange of punches for a bit. Then he got hit with a solid roundhouse kick to the upper thigh. That stung, the muscles in his leg trying to cramp up from it. After that, for the next four rounds, he had to just try to hang on, as he was punched, choked and rolled around, mainly against his will. Worse, instead of letting him give up, Dave kept letting go of the moves, before he could tap out, even though he had them set in pretty solidly. Not that doing that would end the match. Twelve rounds, was twelve rounds. Everyone that could count would get that. This wasn’t a real fight, where he could get out of things just by being knocked out.