“It’s ten bucks each for the night to use the equipment and share a locker.”
“Nah, man I wanna get in the ring.”
Manny gave the big guy in front of the group the once over. He clearly had some training. Manny asked the standard questions and the young man had all the right answers, a wrestling background and was willing to sign the liability waivers. It didn’t feel quite right, but Manny couldn’t put his finger on why. The guy was a smug son of a bitch, so Manny decided it was just his general dislike for assholes that put the kid on his radar.
“OK, there aren’t many people looking to spar tonight, but it’s your money.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone will give me a shot, Jose.”
“Yep,” Manny thought, “asshole”.
People in the gym were in the same jovial mood as always. There was of course a little trash talking, some towel tossing and a water fight. Kyle sat alone on a bench, head in his hands.
Jake Lichty was eager to hop in ring, not even bothering to warm up. Jorge, one of the trainers checked his head gear, gloves and mouthpiece shaking his head as the kid threw air punches and hoped around like he was getting ready for a prize fight.
“Calm down, Rocky, no one is even up to spar ton…”
Jorge stopped short as he watched Kyle step between the ropes.
“Watts! What’s up, homie.”
Kyle stood stoically as Jorge checked him over.
“You all right, Kyle.”
“Fine man. Just fine.”
“Three minutes?”
“Five.”
“Whatever, homes. That’s a big lug over there.”
Jorge rang the bell, Manny stepping up behind him. Jake threw a roundhouse that caught nothing but air then ate a short left jab. Kyle followed with an inside leg kick that popped just above Jake’s right knee and a wicked body shot that landed just above Jake’s left hip. Then he skipped away to the center of the ring.
Manny hollered into the ring.
“Damn, Kyle. You may make me forget that you can’t fight worth a shit with shots like that.”
Then he wandered away from the ring, laughing, and up the stairs to his office.
It was a punishing five minute round. Kyle dropped his guard once and could tell that the stinging sensation under his left eye was going to leave a mark that would last for some time. Still, he walked casually towards his corner and stood resting his elbows on the top of the ropes taking in a few deep breaths.
Jake, however, was hunched over on his stool, holding a towel to his lip. The blood stained ever part of the towel it touched. But it didn’t really hurt. Then again, maybe it did. But it didn’t nearly as much as the rest of his body. His legs were throbbing from kick after kick. There was already a bruise on his left shin. His cheeks were starting to swell from all the jabs that had come his way. At one point, he thought he had the upper hand, landing a huge right hook to the eye of his opponent, but the guy barely moved. But, while Kyle was momentarily stunned, Jake rushed him and used his formidable size to shove him into a corner. It hadn’t lasted long. A short uppercut had moved Jake back, and he soon found himself with his back to the ropes, his hands wrestling with Kyle’s, trying to gain the upper hand while he was taking knee after knee to his torso. Left, left, right. Pause. Right, right, left. And again.
Jake stared at his opponent, trying hard not to lift his head farther than he had to. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kyle looked like he hadn’t broken a sweat. The muffled ding announced that the short break was over.
Kyle strolled into the center of the ring.
“You can still walk away.”
“Fuck you, old man.”
“OK, I tried. When you’re wondering later on, that first round was for fucking my wife. This one is for where you did it. So, show me what you have left. You. Fucking. Pussy.”
When he thought about it later Jake realized the number of ways he had underestimated his opponent and basically dove, head first, into the beating of his life. His size was countered by skill. His youth was countered by endurance and training. His arrogance countered by rage. But, at that moment, none of those things stopped him from growling and diving at Kyle’s legs. It would be his last mistake.
Kyle shot his legs backwards and pushed his hips high, all while grappling Jake’s head with a force that equaled his size. The shift in momentum couldn’t be missed and Jake tumbled to the ground landing on his back. Like a man possessed Kyle was on him in an instant.
“Manny! Manny!” Jorge screamed. He had listened to the conversation as best he could and when understood the implications he started to call for help. But it was too late.
Kyle was seated atop Jake in full guard. Jake tried to protect his face with his arms, but it was futile. In the superior position Kyle drove his fists to the mat, Jake’s face just happened to be in the way. Blow after blow rained down. When Kyle’s arms tired, he started with the hammer fists by the dozens. When Jake’s nose broke and splashed blood across the floor, he reached towards Kyle’s face in a final attempt to push him away. And that was the end.
Kyle grabbed Jake’s wrist, and twisted his hips, gathering Jake’s arm between his legs. Kyle’s left calf was pushing against Jake’s throat, his feet, crossed at his ankles, pressing down against Jake’s chest. As Kyle pushed his hips in the air and his shoulders to the mat, he twisted Jake’s limb, which was fully captured in the arm bar. Manny came running down the stairs just in time to hear the snap. The scream was frightening. And then the crying started.
Kyle stoically exited the ring, and tossed his gear in his locker, gathering his clothes in his arms, and walked out of the gym. He didn’t feel bad, not by any means. But he didn’t feel better.