“One hundred percent? You don’t want your cut?”
Tyson’s eyebrow shot up. “My cut?”
“You set up the fight.”
Tyson smiled as it dawned on him what Jack was saying. “You want me to be your manager?”
“You know the game better than anyone.”
He got this glint in his eye. “Manager. I like that. Why not? You got yourself a deal. Seventy-thirty. You get the seventy.”
“Fifty-fifty,” Jack said.
Tyson grinned. “Done.”
As the cab curved around the winding roads that fed through the Santa Fe National Forest, only the steady thump of tires rolling over asphalt could be heard. The cabdriver had the radio tuned into sports and was unaware of where he was taking them.
“Jack. This lady friend of yours, you known her a long time?”
He nodded.
“Where did you meet her?”
“Maine.”
“So you were close?”
Jack glanced at him.
“Have you considered the thought that she might have just upped and left?”
“It passed through my mind.”
“Cause I’m telling you women can be a little insane at times. My gal changes her mind from one minute to the next.”
“How so?”
“Ugh I don’t know. When I have money she’s as sweet as pie, the days I don’t, she acts like I’m the biggest loser on the block. I swear she suffers from schizophrenia.”
He gazed out the window as pine trees blurred in his peripheral vision. “Then why do you stay with her?”
“She believes in me.”
“You sure about that?” Jack asked.
He frowned and was about to reply when the eighteen-wheeler and a large number of people came into view. Tyson leaned forward and tapped the driver. “Just drop us over there.”
“Out here?” the cabbie asked.
“Yeah.”
He shrugged. “All right.”
After tossing the guy a few dollars Tyson led Jack through those who had gathered. The sound of music thumping could be heard from inside the truck’s trailer.
“Hey Tyson!” a guy shouted out. Tyson smiled and greeted people like he was the life of the party. Strangers eyed Jack and sized him up. As they made their way around, Tyson slowed and glared. Jack followed his gaze through the crowd to a gal who was leaning into some meathead and kissing the side of his face. She had long red hair, and wore too much makeup. She couldn’t have been more than five foot four. She glanced his way, muttered something to the guy and broke away slipping through the crowd. Tyson ignored her and walked on to the back of the trailer.
“Tyson. Tyson!”
“What do you want, Carla?”
“You fighting tonight?”
Tyson stopped and turned, his eyes darted to Jack and then her. “Really?”
“What?” She looked over her shoulder. “He’s a friend of my brother. His mother was in a car wreck recently. I was just consoling him.”
He scoffed.
“Look, I knew you were showing up here. Why would I be coming on to another guy?” She paused and looked at him, taking a hold of his arm. “Besides, he doesn’t have what you’ve got.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Tyson said, not sounding very convinced.
“Heart. That’s why you’re going to the top. That’s why I sound like a broken record and keep asking about when you’re fighting.”
Tyson snorted. “And there was me thinking it was because of my connections with Pope, and the kickbacks I get.”
“As if.”
She smiled and leaned into him and gave him a kiss.
Jack shook his head. He’d seen it all before. The women that hung around to be invited to the parties, to get free drugs and booze, to have access to a better lifestyle than what they had. It was too easy to spot, and more often than not young guys like Tyson saw it but did nothing about it.
“Look, this is Jack. He’s a friend of mine. He’s fighting tonight.”
“Oh. You’re not fighting?”
“No. I’m managing his career. Ain’t that right, Jack?”
She shot Jack a look.
“So you’ve given up the dream?” she asked.
“Hell no, but while I’m waiting for Pope to come around I might as well make a little money on the side. And Jack here is the real deal.”
“Is that so?” She looked him up and down and he could tell if Tyson weren’t around she’d be all over him. He’d seen the same look in women’s eyes from his younger days. Fortunately Tyson could see the same thing. He yanked on Jack. “Let’s go.”
They continued on to the end of the truck.
Two brawny fellas dressed in leather and jeans were posted at the back of the trailer. “Hey boys,” Tyson said. They thumped on the outside and the doors unlocked and swung wide. A cloud of vape smoke poured out along with the stench of pot. It was lit up inside like a disco with people crammed in like sardines. Jack climbed the steps that led into the steel cage and squeezed through the masses. It was hot, sweaty and several fans had been installed above to circulate air.
About halfway down Pope greeted them. “Tyson. I see you showed up. You bring the money?”
Tyson handed it over and all over the place the crowd erupted, stabbing their hands in the air and waving cash around. Pope’s right-hand man Spike went around collecting cash while another person closed the doors. The clang echoed inside the steel chamber. Jack removed his jacket, and took off his shirt. He hadn’t yet seen his opponent. It didn’t matter. Short, tall, fat, skinny, muscular or athletic they were all the same. Each one had a weakness, a flaw they gave away within minutes of meeting them. At the far end of the trailer the crowd parted and he saw the guy, a short Hispanic, shredded and with a large tattoo of a dragon on his back. He turned and fixed his gaze on Jack. He cracked his head from side to side and limbered up by throwing out a few
