by Nancy Radke
"That was fast," she said, suddenly ravishingly hungry as the smell of food permeated the air.
"I have a standing order with them. I just called down and asked them to add a plate and a few more dishes." He set the plates out on the table.
She walked over; reached out to help.
"No. I'll do that. Sit down and rest."
She did, realizing her legs were still wobbly, happy at his thoughtfulness. He set a large glass of water in front of her, along with an electrolyte drink. "Here, have some more."
While she sipped, still thirsty, he put a plate, knife and fork in front of her, then positioned the cart so they both could reach it and serve themselves.
"Chicken tonight," he said, raising the lids on the dishes. "Lots of vegetables. Asparagus. Potatoes and peas."
"Looks good. Smells good." It smelled so good she could have cried. All this. To get help and food. After having to fight for everything since she’d gotten here, it was almost too much.
He motioned her to go ahead and she helped herself to some of everything. It wasn't that she particularly wanted to eat with the enemy, but she was weak and shaky and hungry. Eating only breakfasts had not been enough for the amount of activity she was trying to do.
"Where is Jerry training," Kyle asked as he filled his plate. "What gym?"
"I don't know. He's staying at the Old Ranchero Inn at the present time."
"That place? That's pretty much a dump."
Stormy laughed. "Well, you can’t say this is."
CHAPTER NINE
She had laughed.The sparkle came to her eyes and Kyle smiled back, so very relieved to see that she was feeling better. She had really had him worried for awhile. Now he knew where she was staying. Maybe he would make it to first base after all.
“No, this hotel is anything but a dump. I can relax here without worrying about someone banging on my door in the middle of the night. Or an autograph seeker looking me up on the hotel register.”
“I see. Although you can't call your gym first class.”
"Ah, but it is. It's the kind of gym I like to work out in...small, discrete, no interruptions. Marty will keep everyone away while I do my last week of training."
"Some fighters like to rough it while they’re training."
"True. But I don't know why Jerry would put you and your dad up in the Old Ranchero. He's making good money." Her family puzzled him.
"They didn't expect me to come down so soon."
He set down his filled plate and took his seat, frowning at her. "No?"
"I'm not staying with them."
"Why not?” Looks like he didn’t have her address. He’d have to get it some other way. Maybe by taking her home tonight.
"I told you...Dad doesn't believe there's anything wrong with Jerry."
"So?" They still should have taken care of her. He didn’t like it.
"Well, I kept insisting, so he asked me to leave...to go back to Idaho, but...Kyle, I'm not lying. My brother does have those soft spots. If you hit him the way you hit your last opponent, you’ll kill him."
"I'd like to believe you, but I've got to have more proof." This wasn’t a date she was asking him to break. A championship title match involved thousands of hours and hundreds of people. It was a huge undertaking and cost millions just to put it on.
"Then I'll get it for you, somehow. I'm not playing mind games with you."
He hoped not! "I'll give you the names of the ring doctors before you leave, all right?"
"Yes. That should help."
"Now, let's talk about something more pleasant. Another drink?"
"Yes, thank you.” She smiled and put her glass where he could refill it with cold water.
"Why were you walking? Don't you have a car down here?"
"No."
"I suggest you rent one. Especially if you are going to keep tilting at windmills."
"I can't afford one. I can't even put one on a credit card to worry about later. I tore all mine up when I got into debt using them and have never had one since."
"Well, Vegas is set up for pedestrians...downtown...but the ring doctors might not have their offices here. You'll need a car to reach them." She surely wouldn’t try to ride a bus and walk again, would she?
"I’ll see the ones in town first. But can’t you just refuse to fight Jerry?”
"Not really. Look, Stormy. He's the challenger and I've accepted his challenge. If I back out now, he, in effect, wins the match. He would be named the new champion of the world. And I'd be blacklisted for refusing to fight when I signed an agreement to do so. I can't do that. I won't. You need to get some medical evidence we can show the fight promoters."
He stood up, walked around the room, then came back. "You understand, don't you?" As the sister and daughter of boxers, she should know this.
"Not really. In one way, I do. But in another, I don’t. We’re talking about Jerry’s life. I can't seem to make anyone understand."
"You must have proof."
"Just say you won't fight him."
"It's not the way it goes. He has to refuse to fight me." Besides, he told himself, this could be the cleverest way of being psyched out that’s ever happened to me.
"But you hit so hard, you'll kill him for sure. I've watched clips of your matches.”
"I've got to fight him."
"You'll kill him."
"His problem. He needs to stop the proceedings. You’ve got the wrong person. I have to fight. It's all arranged. The tickets have been sold. The fight will go through unless there is a definite medical reason to stop it. There’s always a medical clause in the contract."
She slumped, the first time he had seen her look even half defeated. “Well,” she said, “I’m not quitting. I guess I’ll just take the name of the doctors and contact them. Someone has to listen to me.”
“I’ll get you the names.” He searched through one of his pieces of luggage, then another, finally pulling out a packet of papers. “It’s in here.” He thumbed through the papers, shook his head and then went through them again. Next he laid them down on the table and turned them over one by one.
“Here it is.”
He pulled out a piece of paper with three names on it and carried it over to her.
She looked at the names. Then turned the paper over to see if there was anything written on the back side. “There aren’t any addresses. Or phone numbers.”
“They don’t give them out. I think only the boxing commission knows. The managers just have the names. I got this from my manager, Leon. Maybe the commission will give you the addresses.”
Stormy felt like crying. She was so discouraged. She had hoped to take Kyle’s list and talk to each of the ring doctors. She was broke and exhausted and now extremely disappointed. The let-down was like a physical blow.
“Oh!” She dropped the names on the table.
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew that I could only give you the names. I don’t have the rest of the information.”
“Then I’ll start over again with the promoters. They said they would do something. I’ll ask them what they’ve done so far.”
“And then?”
“Then I’ll see if all the members of the Boxing Commission are finally here. There were only two when I tried the first time.”
“That’s a good idea.”
She took a deep breath, re-grouping her resolve. “Thank you for rescuing me, Kyle. I realize now that I was in bad shape.”
“You’re welcome. I considered taking you to the emergency room, you know.”
“Really?”
“You had me worried there.”
“I’m just glad you saw me at the bus stop.”
“So am I.”
She stuck her feet into her shoes and grabbed her purse. As she headed for the door, Kyle said, “I’ll drive you back to your hotel. You should still rest. Stay off the bus.”
“Thanks.” She waited for him to grab his keys and make a quick call, then the
y left together.
The elevator opened onto the casino floor and Kyle started across, Stormy following.
“Try to keep up,” he said, and she quickly realized what he meant. Like a flame attracting moths, he drew people instantly to him, surrounding him, taking pictures. She was pushed to the edges as he tried to talk, walk and sign a few autographs. He kept the group moving forward, the edges constantly shifting.
At the door, they flooded out into the covered entrance, Stormy following. How was he going to get free?
CHAPTER TEN
A car pulled up, and the crowd separated to let it through. Kyle caught her eye and motioned for her to get inside. She grabbed the door handle, found it unlocked, and scooted in behind the driver. He pulled forward more until he was even with Kyle, who shoved a few people out of the way and got into the front passenger side.
“Thanks, Tommy. Take us around to the south side.”
“Sure, Mr. Torrin.” The driver eased the car through the dispersing crowd and drove around the building. Here he stopped and got out. Kyle gave the driver a tip and he went happily back into the building.
“So that’s how it’s done,” Stormy said, moving up front beside Kyle. “Neat.”
“They focus on me, so it gives you a chance to get in. Now, where to?”
She told him. It was out on the far side of town.
“That’s more of a dump than where your brother’s staying.”
“I know, but I’m trying to make my money stretch as far as possible.”
“That’s not a good neighborhood. It’s not safe for a woman alone.”
“I’ve no other choice. I try to leave early in the morning and come back before it gets too dark.”
“I don’t like it. Can’t you get any money from your brother? He makes a good living.”
“He wants me to go home, so I can’t get any from him.”
“Would you take a loan from me?”
“Not right now. Not unless I’m forced to. I appreciate all you’ve done so far. It’s a lot more than I could expect from someone my brother has challenged to a fight.”
“I’m not fighting you. And boxers stay fairly close, helping each other. Although I haven’t been on the canvas for three years now, I still help out some of the fighters who are having tough times. And I’ll help you whenever I can. I just can’t stop the fight.”
“Then, thank you.”
He pulled up to her rundown hotel and she stepped out. She held the door open for a moment, noticing his concerned expression. “I’ll be careful,” she said. “Thanks again.”
He lifted his hand in acknowledgement and she turned and scurried through the door.
The next morning Stormy sat in the reception area, waiting and waiting to be called in to talk to the members of the boxing commission. At noon the door opened and a woman informed her that the members had gone to lunch.
“They have many things to discuss. I doubt if they’ll get to you at all today.”
“Should I come back tomorrow?”
“They know why you’re here. They can discuss it without you.” The woman smiled pleasantly at her, but Stormy knew she wanted her to leave.
Discouraged, Stormy walked out of the building. Past the slot machines. It seemed that every building in Las Vegas had slot machines. Probably a good way to take money from the tourists and avoid having to tax your citizens. She wondered if the money covered the increase in crime or gambling problems. She had no way of knowing.
That afternoon, she went to her brother’s hotel. She paused at the entrance to the casino, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. A flurry of activity drew her gaze. Money was what she needed. There was plenty of it in this room.
Just past where someone had had some luck, her brother sat in front of three machines, alternately pulling the levers with one hand while feeding in tokens with the other. Delighted to get an opportunity to speak with him when their father was not around, she worked her way through the closely packed machines.
"Hi."
He grunted, not looking her way.
She edged closer, wondering how to ask him for money to help stop the fight. Her father had refused to loan her any, too.
"Winning anything?"
"Sometimes." His hands never stopped, filling the slots and pulling the levers.
"Doesn't that get tiresome?"
"No."
He was in total concentration. Stormy looked around at the crowded floor and decided to try another tact. "Want me to run one of those for you? Give you a break?"
"No."
"I might bring you luck. I'm a lucky girl, remember? I always won the raffles at home."
He scooted his box of tokens to one side. "That one." He pointed to the machine on his left.
Stormy plopped herself onto the stool, stuck in a token and pulled the lever.
"Faster."
"Okay."
It did not take her long to realize the machines had a voracious appetite. What was the use....
A pile of tokens streamed out into the bin, startling her with its unexpected appearance.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, then examined the pile. "That's not much more than I put in."
"Keep going," Jerry urged.
Obediently, Stormy picked up the tokens and fed them one by one into the machine again. Soon the tray was empty and Jerry dumped in some more tokens from his box.
As she fed them in and pulled the lever, Stormy tried to talk to Jerry again, but his mumbled answers showed he was not giving her his attention.
"I need some money, Jerry. I don't carry credit cards and I used all my extra cash getting down here."
"No."
"Why not? Feed me some of these tokens. I'm hungry too...and you've got plenty. You've been making top money lately, with the matches you've won."
"Go home. Why don’t you take up some other cause? Spend your energy saving the whales.”
“Hah! I actually did that, once, when I was in college and clueless. Never again.”
“Why not?”
“I had been sending money in regularly to the Save the Muskrat Foundation. Then I went to visit their headquarters for information. The place was huge, lavish…and I found out later the head honcho was paid over $400,000 a year. ”
“So, go save the farmers. Just leave me alone.”
"Thanks a lot." If only she had not been so eager to repay her student loan. Knowing she had the summer job as a lifeguard waiting for her in Idaho, Stormy had already started repayment.
It seemed unfair. She was trying to save his life and he refused to help. It wasn't like she needed lots of money, just enough to rent a car and pay for food and lodging until the fight.
Was she tilting at windmills?
She had to know. His doctor's words still haunted her. In she could get just one other doctor's opinion.
She picked up the last token and looked at the bare tray.
"I guess my luck isn't active today."
She stood up, turning the token around in her fingers.
"So long." He shifted back to the center stool.
"Yeah." The banks were always sending out credit card applications. Maybe she could try filling one out. Maybe, with her luck, they would give it to her.
And pigs could fly.
She turned away, stopped, stuck Jerry's last token into the machine and pulled the handle.
She was actually two steps on her way when the bottom fell out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As the tokens poured into the tray, Stormy grabbed a batch and thrust them into her pockets. Another handful, and another, as fast as she could fill them.
“Go ahead, take it all,” Jerry said. She didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or not, but she was filling her pockets, and purse, as full as possible.
“My cut,” she said. “I brought you luck.” She stuffed every pocket she had.
She turned before he could say more and headed toward the desk where people were exchanging c
ash for tokens, and also redeeming them.
She placed her handfuls of tokens on the counter, pulling the rest out of her pockets and purse. Several small stacks. She thought she had grabbed more.
The woman counted them, then pulled out a stack of one dollar bills and counted some out to Stormy, who suddenly realized that the tokens were only worth five cents each.
With the money left in her purse, she now had exactly seventy three dollars. Barely enough to pay her hotel bill.
She was getting nowhere. What was she doing, trying to stop a fight that everyone else wanted to happen? Was she trying to stop what shouldn’t be stopped? No one took her seriously, perhaps because she was wrong.
But Jerry’s doctor had called back. Why would he be so insistent if Jerry had no problems? And he said he didn’t know Ted.
She wandered outside. Since she didn’t have a credit card she had to pay for her room in advance every morning. The money she had just received would take care of tomorrow night. Then what?
Even if she could get the addresses of the ring doctors, she would have no way to get to their places. She was running out of time, energy and money. With no one to help her, things looked bleak.
Everyone else was going with the current and she was swimming against it. They thought she was a fool and maybe she was. Only Kyle had taken the time to hear her out.
It was funny, really. The only one who shouldn’t have paid her any attention was the one who did. The Killer had been the complete opposite of his boxing nickname.
He had been gentle, thoughtful, and caring. He had been the only one in this unfeeling town to give her aid and comfort. He had been worried about her, ready to take her to the hospital. Fed her and driven her back to her hotel. It was more than her family would do for her.
He was good looking as well as gentle. And yet a fighter. A man among men.
She decided she liked the Killer very much. She wanted to go back to him rather than to her smelly hotel. She stopped, realizing that her wandering feet had taken her right up to his hotel.
This was ridiculous. She looked around for a bus stop, saw one down the street and walked over to the crosswalk. The light changed and she walked across, then over to the bus stop. There were two men already there who looked like they hadn’t bathed for a week and Stormy walked past the stop and waited a few feet further on.