Outside the day was beginning to heat up. An empty blue sky stretched out over the rolling hills as they made their way into town.
“Who’s Nicky?”
“Ah, my mother told you about him?” Tyson asked.
“Dropped his name. Said he was in the hospital.”
Tyson took a hard pull on his cigarette and then tossed it. “A fighter. He’s like an older brother to me. Took me under his wing and used to train me. He got injured a few nights ago at an event called Rage in the Cage.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the doctors had to put him into a medically induced coma. They don’t think he’ll make it but I know Nicky. He’s a fighter. I’ve seen him bounce back from multiple ACL injuries. If anyone can make it out, he will.”
“Rage in a Cage?”
Several trucks roared by on their way into the town as they walked on the dusty hard shoulder.
“Underground fighting. Jeremiah has been running the event for years. It’s unsanctioned, and illegal, but there is big money to be made if you’re willing to take the risk.”
“That’s what you want to do?”
“Yeah, if Pope would give me a shot. I’ve been waiting over a year. When I’m not cleaning homes, he has me running errands in the day for him. He doesn’t think I’m ready but I think that’s bullshit. I train at his gym; well I did until Nicky got injured. Nicky told Pope that he needed someone to spar with but he doesn’t know that he was training me in that time. You see, I couldn’t afford the monthly fees and now that he’s in the hospital, well…” He kicked at the ground in frustration and several loose rocks shot ahead of them.
“Big money. What kind of money are we talking about?” Jack asked.
“If you’re an unknown, just starting out, a couple of hundred but that can go up real fast. On the low end of the scale you can be looking at five grand for a fight, ten if you’re real special and…” He looked off towards a group of women and raised his hand. They waved back. “I’ve seen it as high as a hundred grand but that’s only for the cream of the crop, the real contenders, and you’d probably have to fight your way through a small army, and be willing to go with Pope to Albuquerque for that kind of money. It all depends on who’s fighting. The pot is based on bets. Just like in MMA, the bigger the name, the bigger the draw, and the bigger the bets. Nicky has made a name for himself. His last fight was meant to bring in six figures as he did a double or nothing deal but he lost. So he got nothing except a hefty medical bill.” He gritted his teeth.
Jack nodded giving thought to it.
They made it into the downtown and Tyson took him to the Plaza Café — he said it was one of the best in Santa Fe — a historic building right across from the Plaza, just off Lincoln Avenue. Tyson yammered on about how it had had been in business since 1905, and how nothing came close to their Plaza breakfast. When they arrived it didn’t look like anything special, just an ordinary run-of-the-mill café on the outside. Inside there was a breakfast bar with red stools, and tables filling up nearly every inch of space. It was traditional, simple and packed with tourists. They took a table against the wall, near the window where Jack could get a good view of the square Plaza, the heart of Santa Fe. It was a central park lined with trees, benches and a marketplace with an obelisk-style stone monument for the Battle of Valverde at the center.
A waitress came by and Jack ordered the Plaza special for breakfast, which was coffee, two pancakes, two eggs, two sausages, two strips of bacon and hash browns. She returned a few minutes after taking the order with his Americano.
“So does Shanice know about you fighting?”
Tyson pulled a face. “What my ma doesn’t know doesn’t hurt her, right?” He took a sip of his coffee. “Look, Jack, medical bills aren’t cheap, and the money from cleaning homes is shit. It doesn’t even cover our bills. That’s why I run errands for Pope. It’s a little extra on the side until he’ll give me a fight. The way I see it, I could run through half of the guys that show up at these events. Total amateurs. Soft, stiff, predictable. Total chumps.”
Jack cupped his hands around his coffee and nodded. “Like those guys the other night? Who were they?”
“Nobodies. They run with a fighter here in the city that Nicky beat a few weeks back. Sore losers looking to settle a score because we exchanged a few unsavory words leading up to the fight. It’s par for the course in this game. People get heated and well instead of settling it in the cage they’ve been out to get me ever since. I’ve managed to dodge them but they finally cornered me the other night.”
“So when you stepped outside your plan was to fight them all?”
He offered back a mischievous grin. “Something like that.”
The waitress came over with their steaming hot food, the aroma made Jack’s stomach grumble as she slid the plates in front of them.
“So where did you learn to fight like that?” Tyson asked digging into his food.
“New York.”
“Oh yeah, I hear it’s rough out there.”
Jack buttered some toast. “It’s rough everywhere. I used to work for a guy much
