Dmytro Holmes
Eye on the Prize
First published by Dmytro Holmes in 2017
Copyright © Dmytro Holmes, 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
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Contents
I. Part One Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
II. Part Two Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
III. Part Three Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Thanks
About the Author
I
Part One
1
Chapter One
His left fist came flying up without warning, knocking the swaggering giant to the floor but before the beast could recover, another barrage of punches riddled his grotesque, careworn face. The man on the ground tried too late to raise his arms but it was an act of futility. He was already slipping into unconsciousness. But the aggressor had not finished, skilful blows landing directly on their mark. Mikai suddenly became aware of a din erupting around him and he was abruptly pulled back from his target, his gloved hand raised dramatically into the air by the referee. His intense focus cleared, his dark blue eyes taking in the scene that surrounded him.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” A voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “A total knock out in the first round at two minutes and three seconds for Mikai ‘Left Eye’ Duquette!”
The crowd lost control, screaming in excitement at Mikai’s unexpected victory against Sam Gillies, the mixed martial arts trained champion who had briefly been his opponent. Mikai’s trainer, Joe Barone joined him in the ring, rubbing the young fighter’s shoulders and clapping him on the back heartily. The tiny former fighter was trembling with excitement, as if the victory had been his and not Mikai’s.
“I knew you got him, Mickey! I could tell by the look in your eye at a minute and a half! You were amazing!”
Mikai nodded, still breathing heavily as he mopped his face with a white towel, popping his mouth guard from his teeth, saliva spilling to the foam at his feet. He glanced somewhat guiltily at Sam Gillies who still lay on the mat, now motionless and surrounded by paramedics and his own trainer.
“I hope I didn’t do too much damage to him,” Mikai muttered as he made his way through the ropes and followed Joe back toward the change rooms, but his quiet plea was unheard over the din. Joe would have told him the same thing he always said whenever Mikai expressed concern for his fighting opponents; “It’s only business, kid. You can’t worry about every guy you punch out there. They’ll either bounce back or they won’t. What don’t kill you, makes you stronger.”
People reached out to touch Mikai’s muscles, gleaming from sweat as he passed through the stands in the full arena, offering him words of encouragement while young, scantily dressed women eyed him like he was crème brule, winking and blowing kisses in his direction. He smiled at his newly adoring fans, doling out high fives and nodding approvingly at the ladies as he and Joe made their way out. He was slipped numbers and business cards, all of which he would discard when he was alone. Where were all of you three years ago? He thought with some bitterness. I could have used the support then. Logically, Mikai knew he was being unfair, that the crowd’s fickleness was not a reason to be angry and that he should be relishing their love, not meeting it with skepticism.
“The public goes where the sponsors sell them to go,” Joe had told him once. “They might love you but you can bet your ass if Coca Cola loves your opponent, the masses are going to love your opponent more. It’s all about commercialism, Mickey. You can’t take it personally. All you can do is train hard and fight until you reach the top. There is no other way to do it. You have to make Coca Cola love you, make them see that you are worth their endorsement. Then you’ll be set for life!” Still, Mikai could not help but feel resentful that the crowd’s adoration was based on his dramatic success, not because of hard work and tenacity. These people all think I am an “overnight sensation.”If only they had any idea how many thousands of hours went into it. He forced himself to retrain his thoughts on his glory and not stew any further.
As the pair approached the tiny dressing room, they were met by more fans clamoring to enter and when they finally made it through the doors, a bottle of very expensive champagne lay in wait, cooling in a bucket of ice. Miles Harper was sitting on the leather love seat, his foot casually resting on the knee of his three thousand dollar Gucci pants.
“There’s my boy!” Miles announced, jumping to his feet. “Now that was worth every second of flying out here from Chicago. Joey, you did well naming our boy ‘Left Eye.’ That left punch is what did Gillies in! Our southpaw is a lethal weapon. Two minutes and twelve seconds, huh? That must be a record!”
“It was two minutes and three seconds and no, it’s not a record,” Joe replied flatly, his good mood deflated by the presence of Mikai’s agent. “You really should have saved yourself the trip.”
“What? And missed my favorite client’s debut fight in the big leagues? No way! Plus, I personally wanted to hand him this.” His eyes brightening, Mikai eagerly closed the distance between them and closed his still taped hands around the envelope which Miles held.
“Wait! Don’t open it yet! Let’s pop this bubbly and celebrate!” Miles pulled the Dom Perignon from the ice bucket. “Take the tape off! Unless you’re getting geared up for a round with me. I’m not really dressed for it, Leftie and it’s hard to drink bubbly like that.”
“Nah, man, I’m not gonna fight you. You’re my man! Pop that baby open!” Mikai said, ripping red tape from around his hands and plopping onto a chair next to the vanity.
“Not a good idea,” Joe snapped. “He’s still gotta train, Miles. Booze isn’t exactly in the diet.”
Joe muttered something else which neither man heard but Miles rolled his eyes and then winked at Mikai.
“Oh pshaw, Joey. You are always so anal. Let the boy enjoy his first professional victory. It’s all downhill from here.” With that, Miles popped the cork, laughing as the foam spilled over his diamond Rolex although Mikai cringed inside thinking of how much it would cost to replace it. Not that Miles can’t afford it. He’s one of the best agents in the business. I’m lucky to have him, Mikai thought affectionately. Since Miles had become his agent, Mikai had found his road to success almost unhindered. Miles knew everyone and had a silver tongue. He has the Midas touch. With him and Joe on my team, how can I lose? He watched as Miles poured the liquid into two crystal goblets and handed one to Mikai, keeping the other for himself. As an afterthought, Miles glanced impersonally at the trainer who was glaring daggers in the suave man’s direction.
“Oh, I figured you probably didn’t want any, Joey, what with it being past your curfew and all.” Mikai laughed but Joe did not. He scowled deeply at Miles and opened his mouth to retort but Mikai spoke first, anticipating a clash between his trainer and agent. There was no love lost between the two despite the fact they had grown up together and had once been like brothers. Their arguments could reach epic proportions and Mikai did not know the details but every time he tried to question the breakdown in their relationshi
p, he was thwarted by both Joe and Miles alike.
“There is no use bringing up ancient history unless it threatens to repeat itself,” Joe told Mikai once.
“Some people just don’t appreciate a good thing when they see it. Remember to always be grateful for what you have, Lefty,” Miles had answered him cryptically. “Some people are just born lucky.”
Mikai didn’t understand either man but he knew better than to push the issue despite his overwhelming desire to know the story.
“Aw, come on, Joe. One glass isn’t going to hurt you. Just for a toast?” Mikai implored him. Joe looked at the boy who had become his protégé over the years and softened slightly. Joe knew it wasn’t fair to put a damper on Mikai’s big night because of his residual anger toward Miles. Begrudgingly, Joe nodded and Miles bemusedly poured a third glass but wisely made no snarky comment even though Mikai knew Miles was itching to say something. The three men stood facing one another for a moment, not speaking. Finally, Mikai broke the somewhat awkward silence with a broad grin on his face. They could not put a shadow on his elation and he knew their intention was exactly the opposite.
“As you know, it has been a really hard road for me, filled with a lot of crap. You two have seen the worst side of me and I want you to know that I know I would never be anywhere near where I am today if it wasn’t for both of you. I can be a miserable son of a bitch sometimes, moody and angry, but you guys never gave up on me and I hope you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You have put up with a lot from me, my depressions and my benders. You have always been there for me. Thank you, Joe, Miles. I love you guys like my family. Hell, you know I love you more than those bastards!” Mikai’s grin widened further to the point where his trainer and agent thought his attractive face would crack. He was like an excited child when he held up his goblet, his good mood infectious. Both men smiled warmly at the twenty-six-year-old boxer and raised their glasses to complete the toast.
“To Left Eye!” they chorused while the rest of Mikai’s small entourage echoed the sentiment in the background, but Mikai was not paying attention. There was a gentle clink and Mikai slugged back an obligatory gulp, barely tasting the potent liquid in his haste. He hurriedly proceeded to place his glass on the dressing table and reach for the envelope which Miles had handed him. Like a child at Christmas, he attacked the plain white paper to release the check from its fold. He held up the paper, his smile freezing and then dying on his lips.
“This is it?” he asked Miles accusingly. “This is all I got?”
Miles’ beaming smile faded too as he glanced over Mikai’s broad shoulder and saw the amount he had presented his client. Joe tried to peek inconspicuously but could not get a good look from where he stood.
“Yeah, I was worried this was going to happen,” Miles muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another and glancing away from the now irritated boxer.
“What? What happened? I thought I was getting double this!” Mikai yelled, flapping the check in the air.
“You did…” Miles said evasively. “But…”
“But what? What the hell happened to my money?”
Miles sighed before responding, trying to choose his words carefully.
“Promoters. Taxes. Security.” Mikai stared at him as if Miles had grown another head.
“Are you shitting me? Half of my money is gone? How am I going to survive off this once a month? Four hundred bucks isn’t even subway fare to and from the gym!”
“I know, Mickey but trust me, this is just temporary. So you need to get a job for a while. No big deal. Everyone needs to work, right? Anyway, you’ll be driving a Mercedes soon. You won’t need to set foot on a stinking subway ever again. Hell, you’re gonna be chauffeured around in a limo soon! Just keep your eye on the prize, Leftie, okay?”
Unconvinced, Mikai sat heavily in his chair, disappointed. His mind raced for an alternative.
“Maybe there is a way I can fight on the side to make more money – “
“No!” Both Miles and Joe shouted in unison.
“You need to do this the right way and fight your fights. Don’t stray from the NABF or you’ll find yourself on your own without a future in boxing,” Joe warned. Miles nodded in agreement. It was not often that the two reached a consensus on anything. Mikai knew that he was resigned to his fate. There was nothing he could do about it. He had already gone through almost all his meagre savings, training hard and forgoing luxuries at every turn. He had even steered clear of the casinos, despite the overwhelming urge to play for gold. Mikai had heeded Joe’s advice and followed his training schedule to a science. It had been five years of rigid routine but it was proving to be worth it. You just need to hold out a little longer. You’re almost there. You can do it. He thought he had finally made it out of the deep hole he had dug for himself in the quest to become boxing world champion. You are much closer than you were five years ago, he reminded himself, looking up at sympathetic supporters in his midst, each one of them waiting for his response. The rest of his small following tried to make themselves scarce but they too, shot him encouraging looks. He took a deep breath to steady himself and forced a weak smile on his face. I’m just gonna have to hit Atlantic City and double down with the rest of my money. If that doesn’t work out, I will take on a job for a few months. The NABF title fight isn’t far away.
“Okay,” he said finally.
“Okay what?” Joe demanded, ready to go to war with Miles, eyeing his former friend with naked disdain. “What are you going to do, Mickey?”
“I will find a job,” Mikai conceded. “But only until you make me huge, Miles.”
Laughing, Miles clapped his client on the back jovially.
“Of course. Like I said, this is only temporary.”
2
Chapter Two
“Hey Bucky four eyes, think fast!” The ball ricocheted off Mikai’s head before he could look up from his peanut butter sandwich. The hard rubber bounced into the trees behind him. A burst of raucous laughter exploded from his classmates as he scrambled to retrieve his fallen glasses from the grass. There was a definitive crack in the lenses and Mikai felt himself get dizzy with impending fear. His parents wouldn’t be able to afford a new pair of glasses, not with his astigmatism prescription. He would be forced to wear the same broken glasses for a long while. He wondered if he would be able to see but before he could determine how much damage was done, he was confronted with a bigger problem. A small group of children emerged from the ravine from behind the tree where Mikai had set up for lunch, among them, Derrek Jameson. His acne pocked face loomed scarily above Mikai and for a moment, Mikai felt as though he was in a dream. Derrek Jameson often haunted his nightmares. Instinctively, Mikai pinched himself, praying he would wake up but of course, he was not that lucky. He looked up at Derrek who towered above Mikai, fists firmly planted on his pudgy hips, glowering at the skinny, pale boy.
“Hey Bucky! Didn’t you hear me? I said think fast! Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re too stupid to think fast or slow!” The other children giggled at his cruel remark, and encouraged, Derrek kicked at the ground by Mikai’s feet. Mikai jumped up with surprising agility, shifting his eyes to the ground to avoid the inevitable confrontation. His vision was exceptionally blurry on the broken side where his glasses sat askew upon his long face. He was worried what his father would say when he got home. He imagined the lecture he was in for but again, his worry was overshadowed by the immediate danger he was facing.
“Where ya goin’?” Derrek taunted as the smaller boy turned to walk away. “I ain’t done talkin’ to ya, four eyes.”
Mikai tried to ignore the bully and picked up his pace. Turning his back to him made Mikai increasingly nervous but he hoped to fall into the purview of a teacher before any serious damage was done to him. Derrek, however, was not one to be slighted and began to follow the awkward ten-year-old toward the school, chanting his mean moniker with the other students.
“Bu
cky four-eyes! Bucky four-eyes! Bucky four-eyes!” For a hopeful moment, Mikai thought that Derrek would end his torment with simple ridicule but the smaller boy was not so lucky. A sudden push from behind knocked Mikai forward but he did not fall, having partially expected the act of aggression. He had a highly-developed sense of cynicism which was far too mature for someone his age. Between his meager home life and poor physical strength, Mikai was already learning that life was not fair and somehow, a primitive sense had already taught him to be on guard.
“Bucky four eyes! Bucky four eyes! Bucky four eyes!” Derrek chanted. Soon, the other children followed suit and Mikai was enveloped in a cruel circle of jeering. He felt tears well up in his myopic eyes but he swallowed fast, horrified that Derrek and the others might catch him crying. Blinking fast, Mikai broke into a run, Derrek in hot pursuit.
“Where ya goin’ Bucky? I ain’t done with ya!” The other children cheered their leader on and suddenly Mikai was being pulled to the ground and pummelled with the fists of his nemesis. As Mikai put his frail arms up to protect his spectacle covered face, he thought “One day, you are going to regret the day you ever met me.” But as he waited for Derrek to finish his beating, or for someone to finally lose their nerve at the sight of Mikai’s blood and alert a teacher, Mikai knew that it was never going to happen. He knew he was destined to be a loser his entire life.
As Mikai stared blankly at the television screens before him, he idly wondered why that event from his childhood had popped into his mind. He had not thought about Derrek Jameson in years, certainly not since he had left high school and outgrown his geeky stage. Probably because you are bored to death and looking for any distraction, he told himself somewhat bitterly. While his eyes had been trained on the security cameras for what had probably been two hours, he freely admitted to himself that he had not paid the slightest attention to anything happening. An armed robbery could have occurred as Mikai watched and in his current state he would not have been any the wiser. Rubbing his eyes, he sat back in the swivel chair and rolled his thick neck in a circle to release the tension. There was nothing overly stimulating about the comings and goings of the company’s employees and while Mikai had been working for Entrance Systems for almost a month, he had no idea why they felt the need for security in the first place. Entrance was a nationwide grocery store chain with locations spanning the country. Their head office was based in New York and while it was a thriving, multi-billion-dollar corporation, Mikai could not recognize any immediate threat to the people who were employed within its walls. Mikai suspected that his role was intended to be more a private investigator than a protector but it was of little consequence to the boxer. The work was consistent and while the job itself was mundane, it allowed Mikai the freedom to continue with his gruelling training schedule.
Eye on the Prize Page 1