The Hardest Hit

by Jennifer Fusco

  He squished up his face. “Are you kidding? Have you ever seen what happens to foster kids? I mean, sure, you see the happy billboards on the side of the road that promote adoption, but really, adoptive parents only want babies. They don’t want skinny little boys who still eat with their hands because they don’t know how to use a spoon.”

  Her heart softened. “Did someone hit you?”

  He laughed. “Did they ever. This one lady I lived with, her name was Mrs. Cass, she didn’t put up with any shit. Beat the crap out of us. The girls got the belt; and the boys she’d slam into walls and stuff. We learned quickly at Mrs. Cass’s house that no one gave a shit, not even when they were paid to. All they wanted was us to be quiet and stay out of the way.”

  “How long did you live there?”

  “About two years. Then it got worse.”

  Her eyes widened. “Worse?”

  He nodded. “Mrs. Cass got too old to put up with all of us. She had four kids. So, they took two of us, me and my foster brother, and sent us to live in a boys’ home. It was a state-run place for older kids. We were the youngest ones there so we got teased, beat up, bruises; and yeah, shit happens, but we made the best of it.”

  Her mind raced. This was the kind of thing she’d been dying to know. Most of his trauma stemmed from his past, of that she was sure.

  “Of course.” He shrugged. “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, right? I mean, we got beat up. A lot. So what if we took a few hits? Didn’t matter. Nobody cared, and we gave the beatdowns as good as we took them. That was a fact of life back then.”

  She allowed a few moments of silence to surround them. She needed to process all the information he’d told her. The bruises and beatings he sustained in foster care had not only damaged his body, but his mind. No one cared about him. He’d allowed himself to train at gyms before Stamina without headgear, or other protective equipment. He didn’t think it was important because he didn’t believe he was important.

  Damn.

  Her stomach rolled. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. The revelation rocked her core. It all made sense. Years of abuse and neglect had instilled in him the idea that his body could handle anything. Because he admitted only seeing a doctor in urgent situations, he never knew what kinds of damage his body had silently sustained. Each storm his body weathered compounded on the next. And he didn’t do himself any favors by not using the proper training equipment. He honestly believed he didn’t need it.

  Her heart gave a gentle squeeze. How could she tell him what she suspected? He thought he was invincible, and if he didn’t, he didn’t care enough about his own health to stop fighting. She wet her lips. Her brain struggled to find the right words, the ones that would make him understand how severe his situation was. He needed to stop boxing and end the abuse done to his body over the years before it was too late. He was already beginning to show signs of short-term memory loss. Harmful, and devastating, but totally recoverable with the right therapy and medications. However, the abuse to his body had to end now.

  For a moment, she hated being his doctor. Why couldn’t they have met under different circumstances? He was so funny, so flirtatious, and persistent that she couldn’t ignore how attracted she was to him. Now, she had to crush him, and she knew he may never forgive her.

  “So, what do you say,” he said, breaking the silence, “I get the MRI, then we can go grab some lunch?”

  “I’m afraid you’re not going to want to eat after what I have to say.” She gazed into his eyes.

  He smirked. “You can tell me no, Doc. I can handle it.”

  She flashed a gentle smile. “It’s not about lunch, or dinner, or a movie. It’s about you. Your recovery and what your life can be like once you’ve ended your boxing career.”

  He waved a hand, slicing the air. “Ended my career? I’ve got at least ten years in the ring. I can’t worry about that now.”

  Her whole body stiffened. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to, Trevor, because if the MRI shows what I believe it will, you’re boxing career is already over.”

  Chapter Nine

  The woman was nuts. What a quack! Where’d she get her degree from, Wimps University? The College of Quitters? Trevor walked into Stamina gym ready to get back into the ring, and damn if he wasn’t going to. He had her pegged wrong from the start; she was more beautiful than she was smart. If she thought he was going to quit boxing over some crack on the head, she was delusional.

  He drew in the scent of the gym. There was no way he could stay away from this. Time to hang up your gloves, she’d said. Think about your future, she’d said. Yeah, right. He didn’t have a future if he wasn’t in the ring.

  And the therapy she’d ordered. Holy cow! What’d she think he was a third grader? She had actually told him to play some word association games online. Then she’d asked if he could pick up one of those adult coloring books. Him? Color? Like a child? Coloring intricate patterns strengthens your brain, she’d said.

  Jesus H. Christ.

  He didn’t even bother to stop at the receptionist desk on the way out to schedule the MRI. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous. And he didn’t plan to say a word. As far as Daniella was concerned, he’d tell her he checked out a-okay. Today was his day to climb back in the ring, and no one, not even a beautiful quack of a doctor was going to stop him.

  He spied Shakes across the gym and made a beeline toward him. The old man greeted him with a handshake.

  “Everything all right?” Shakes asked.

  “Right as rain,” Trevor replied. “What’s on the card for today?”

  Shakes placed a hand on his hip. “Domenic is in the dressing room, changing. Thought you two could start off with a little sparring and feel each other out. Go light. You may need a few days to get back into the rhythm. And he could use a day to spar with someone like you. I think you could teach him a lot.”

  “Be happy to.” Trevor felt the smile blossom on his face. “Anything for a Stamina brother.”

  “He’s a good kid. He just needs a lot of guidance.”

  Trevor nodded. He remembered those days, starting off early in his career. For a moment he wished he could have been as lucky as Domenic. He didn’t start off in the best of gyms, and he stayed longer than he should have. In fact, the Cleveland Street Gym was the total opposite of Stamina. There, no one cared if you got hurt, saw a doctor, or wore your headgear in the ring. At Cleveland Street all anyone cared about was knocking their opponent out to get the owner’s attention. If he knew your name, you’d get booked for a fight or two, but first you had to prove you could take a punch as well as you could throw one.

  Hell, they didn’t even recruit him the right way. At least not the way Daniella recruited her fighters. At Cleveland Street he just showed up one day and got in the ring. At Stamina, Daniella and Shakes saw that their guys had all the proper training before they put somebody in the ring. And even then, Daniella wouldn’t put someone in the ring and allow him to get beaten beyond recognition. Stamina used sparring for what it was meant to be—training. When a fighter sparred, he needed to be matched up carefully. It was important that the stronger fighter in the ring reveal the weaknesses of his opponent, not exploit them.

  He’d learned that only since coming to Stamina. At Cleveland Street, sparring depended on who showed up that day, and who had beaten the hell out of who the previous day. Cleveland Street was about pain and punishment, and those who delivered rose to the top.

  The difference between the two gyms was huge. He’d put his body through so much unnecessary pain. He saw that now. But it didn’t matter. He could take a few hard licks if it meant getting ahead in the fight game.

  He allowed his eyes to roam around Stamina, the best gym he’d ever known. In one corner, Jack Brady worked out. The current world heavyweight champion threw punches at the heavy bag and practiced his footwork. Ru
mors swirled around the gym that Jack’s retirement was on the way. With he and Daniella starting a family he was all too happy to trade in his boxing gloves for baby booties.

  Opposite Jack, on the other side of the room, Mike Perez taught his afterschool classes. God, he didn’t see how Mike had the patience for teaching kids after he’d trained hard all day long, but Trevor knew by the look on Mike’s face that he loved it.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins. God, he’d missed this place, and everyone in his home away from home. It felt so damn good to be back. As he started toward the locker room, someone called out his name. He spun around and spied Daniella standing outside her office.

  Picking up the pace, he jogged over to where she stood.

  “I’ve got good news,” she said, making her way to her office. “Come on in.” As soon as he reached her Daniella asked, “So, did everything check out all right at your doctor’s appointment?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” Air left his lungs. He hated lying to Daniella, but he wasn’t about to divulge anything Chelsea had told him about his condition. He needed back in the ring. He wanted to fight again, plain and simple.

  “Fantastic.” Daniella reached down and picked up a paper from her desk. “I need your signature here.”

  “What is it?” He took the paper, scanning the page, and easily found his name.

  “The contract for your fight against Dion Nash.” A pang of excitement jolted through his stomach. “Really?”

  His trainer glanced down at the page. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

  “Yeah, but it happened so fast.” Elation filled his voice.

  She nodded. “Yes. We all agreed this is the best matchup, and came to terms pretty quickly. It’s going to be held at Caesars Palace in four weeks. All we were waiting on was the all-clear from your doctor.”

  “I’m good to go,” he said proudly.

  She handed him a pen. “Then sign here.”

  He scrawled his name across the bottom of the page. Giving the paper back to Daniella, he drew in a deep breath. His lungs filled to full capacity. Man, it was good to be back. Whether or not he should be back was up for debate, but he didn’t want to worry about that now.

  “Shakes is ready for you out there. I think getting you in the ring with Domenic for a while will be good for both of you.”

  He smiled. “Me too.”

  And with that he left her office and headed for the locker room. He was a fighter. This was his life. And nothing or no one was going to stop him.

  Ten minutes later, Trevor appeared ringside dressed and ready to spar. Domenic Raccio stood in the ring waiting for him. He flashed his contender a friendly smile. “You ready to do this?”

  The guy bounced on his toes. “I’m ready.”

  “Is this your first sparring session?” Trevor asked. He should probably have known, and maybe he did, but couldn’t remember. Domenic wasn’t all that new to Stamina. Certainly he’d have sparred with one of the guys by now.

  “No.” Domenic shook his head. “I sparred with Mike last week. Shakes seemed to think you’re a better fit.”

  That made sense. His Stamina brother Mike Perez could be intense at times. Though he was excellent at training kids, he didn’t fare as well with adults; everyone had their weaknesses.

  “Well,” Trevor said, climbing through the ropes, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Strapping on his headgear, Trevor held out his hands as Shakes gloved him up. Once they were tied, he turned around and met his contender head on.

  “We’ll go for two minutes,” Shakes instructed. “I’ll call time.”

  Both men retreated to their respective corners.

  “Time,” Shakes yelled, and both fighters darted out from their corners.

  They met center ring and Trevor led with a right cross to Domenic’s jaw. He stuck the shot and exhilaration filled his belly at landing his first real punch in weeks. Domenic fought back. He bobbed and weaved, causing Trevor to miss his next shot.

  “Good instincts,” Shakes yelled to both of them.

  The old man was right: Domenic looked as if he may be the perfect sparring partner for Trevor. Both men traded shots. And with one minute left to go, Trevor quickly learned the young fighter had not only a mean uppercut, but some of the best footwork he’d ever seen. That kind of timing didn’t come with training; it was God-given talent.

  Trevor landed a few more shots to the kid’s head, and Domenic returned the punches in kind. They moved like an expertly coordinated dance, and for the first time he felt back like his old self again.

  “Time,” Shakes yelled again, and both men broke apart, respecting the break.

  They took a thirty-second rest. Trevor rinsed his mouth and spat out the water. Domenic walked off his windedness in small circles.

  “You guys look good together,” Shakes said. “Next time, let’s bring the power. Trevor, I want you to lead with your left hook, and Dom, let’s have you work on your one-two combinations. Throw the jab and follow it up with a right cross.”

  Both men met in the center of the ring. Trevor rolled his neck from side to side, loosening up. Domenic pumped up his heart rate by starting to bounce on his toes. Shakes backed away from the two men and yelled, “Time.”

  Trevor charged at Domenic. The left hook was one of the hardest punches in boxing because it was thrown from the shoulder at such a peculiar angle. Getting in close next to your opponent was one way to guarantee the punch landed with accuracy. But Trevor didn’t count on Domenic’s excellent sense of timing. His contender must’ve sensed his approach because he used the lack of distance to his advantage, switched his weight, and landed one hell of a punch to the side of Trevor’s head.

  Fuck.

  For a moment, Trevor’s vision blurred. He blinked and kept blinking in time to see another punch land on his jaw. Immediately, he started to back away, but got caught up in the ropes. Domenic wailed on him. He landed two great shots to Trevor’s body, followed by a killer straight right. The punch landed just above his eye.

  “Time,” Shakes yelled.

  It didn’t seem like two minutes had passed, but the new kid had him on the ropes and it was, after all, Trevor’s first day back in the ring. His opponent backed off and allowed Trevor some space.

  Trevor worked his mouthpiece off his teeth, and spat it on the mat. “Nice job,” he told the kid. “I really like that last hit.” The guy headed off into his corner, just as Trevor remembered he needed to tell him not to let up once he had his opponent on the ropes. Those were the times a fighter should switch to body shots and work the inside. He wanted to call out to the guy standing with his back to him, and he would have, if only he could’ve remembered his name.

  Chapter Ten

  A week passed and his head hurt every damn day, but the pain didn’t stop him from sparring. Since he’d signed his name on the contract, he’d been more emphatic about being at the gym before the doors opened and staying late every night. He’d missed a lot of gym time, too much to count, and he knew he’d have to train doubly hard if he had a shot of getting back to where he’d been before his hospital stay.

  Trevor dumped four pain reliever tablets into his hand. He threw the bottle back in his gym bag as he downed the pills with a splash of water, and strolled out of the locker room, where Domenic waited for him.

  “You okay?” his sparring partner asked as he got within earshot.

  Trevor’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

  “You didn’t look too steady on your feet coming out of the locker room.”

  Trevor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Just tired, I guess.”

  “Yeah, you were here late yesterday. Maybe you should cut it short today. We can go out and grab something to eat. Fuzzy’s Taco Stand just opened around the corner.”

  “Sounds good, but some other ti
me, okay? I have a fight to train for.”

  Domenic nodded. “I don’t want to see you overexert yourself. You know, too much too soon and all that.”

  Trevor placed a hand on Domenic’s shoulder. “I appreciate your concern. But, don’t worry, I got this.”

  Domenic smiled. He acted as if he really did care, and Trevor appreciated his concern. Truth was, it was nice to have someone who cared, but Trevor didn’t want Domenic to worry. The last thing he needed was Domenic to express his fears to Daniella. If his trainer got a whiff that he might not be 100 percent, she’d call that quirky doctor friend of hers.

  Oh Dr. Fox. What the woman had in looks she lacked in common sense. Him? Quit boxing? Never.

  Just as the chuckle at the idea left his chest, Domenic started talking. “I was watching old Olympic footage last night on YouTube. Nash likes to go in low on his opponents and work the body. His moves are very Tyson-esque.”

  “Oh yeah?” Trevor kept the conversation going as they made their way to the ring.

  “Yeah. He must’ve studied the old Mike Tyson fights in detail. While Nash is no heavyweight, he likes to get in close and brawl. He also leads with his head.”

  Domenic rattled off all the details Trevor already knew, but the good thing was that the kid was taking notice of the opponent, studying them like he should. Countless boxers never bothered to study their competition. They led with bravado, believing they could step inside the ring and knock someone out based on brute force alone. So. Not. True.

  “Dude,” Domenic kept talking, “you should really watch Tyson/Danny Williams from 2004. That one’s a classic.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Trevor found his gloves sitting in his corner of the ring. Shakes had left the ring prepared for them to start sparring as soon as they got ready.

  Trevor tugged on one glove as his partner kept on singing the praises of Mike Tyson. “There are other phenomenal boxers besides Tyson, you know. If you really want classic fights you should go old school, and start in the days of Sugar Ray Leonard, and Michael Spinks. Then, of course, you should really watch all the old tapes of The Greatest.”