Page 4

Chapter 4

Honour Code

Parker

The answer to Vanessa’s question buzzes noisily around my head.

Because nobody would believe me.

Red Gloves is a shitty hole-in-the-wall kinda gym. I mean that, literally. There are actual holes in the walls. Guys swap pills in the locker rooms. Things get broken and aren’t repaired. What little money there is goes into covering the bills. It’s a complete dive.

But I don’t care. It’s home.

It’s chilly when I walk through the door. A small heater vibrates uselessly, warming nothing that’s not within a foot of its path. I find a working locker and shove my bag in there. I roll my neck, loosening up protesting muscles. MMA may be new, but years of training in judo, boxing, and wrestling aren’t. My body is pretty good at keeping score.

The only decoration are the quotes written in marker pen on every wall. Different fighters sharing words of wisdom. Lessons. Mantras. I haven’t written one yet. You have to earn the right.

My favourite sits above a vending machine with cracked glass that spits out brandless protein bars.

‘Only we can make each other bleed’ .

I begin wrapping my hands, a familiar thrill buzzing around my stomach. This never gets old.

I’m starting my first official training camp. Eight weeks of chicken and kale. Eight weeks of twice a day drills. Eight weeks until I really become somebody.

My opponent is called Brent Jackson. I’ve spent all week watching footage of his only two amateur fights online, and I’ve already identified a handful of weaknesses in his standup that I’m determined to exploit.

Eight weeks of no distractions.

Especially not ones like Brandon Carter.

I head onto the gym floor, and stop in surprise.

Huh?

Six brand new treadmills line up in-front of the cracked windows, right next to an array of dumbbells, benches and boxing equipment. Some of it hasn’t even been unwrapped yet. A couple of guys have paused rolling around on the mat, and are regarding our new toys suspiciously.

This is expensive shit. Shiny. And it doesn’t belong here.

Red Gloves is managed by two brothers in their mid-fifties. Julius handles the business. Frankie handles the training. Both of them have pro-records, but never made it big time. “Did you guys rob Allstars Fitness?” I call, namedropping the cheerfully commercial gym over the road. They both stop talking.

“Something like that”, Frankie replies. “Get warmed up, Di Rossi. I’ll be right there”.

Weird.

I head to the boxing section and start smacking the shit out of the bag, picturing Darwin’s smug face. When I’m done, I mentally replace him with Volchok. I don’t know him well, but that doesn’t matter.

I’d happily get him in the ring for what he did to Brandon.

My phone buzzes. Local sports blogs have started to update on Brandon’s condition. College star and MLS prospect Brandon Carter took a nasty spill after scoring the winner in a nail-biting final thanks to a last-minute challenge from goalkeeper Dmitry Volchok . They go on like that, like it was no big deal.

Like he wasn’t just almost ripped apart right in-front of me.

My resolution to stop thinking about him is already forgotten. I can’t escape one thought. What if it had been worse? Concussions can be deadly. Brandon’s always been a risk-taker on the pitch. What if he had been really hurt before I had the chance to fix things between us?

I should have called him after all that stuff came out in the press about his mom’s affairs. A wave of guilt passes over me. He was there for me, after my dad died. I should have been there for him, too.

Even if he never came to the funeral.

I’m not being fair. My mom was clear. Family only. But still, back then, Brandon was family. To me, anyway. It’s always stung that he didn’t show up for me when I really needed him.

Frankie joins me, hands in his pockets.

Across from me, a meathead named Tank is going to town on a training bag. He’s Red Gloves’ biggest success story, despite never turning pro. He’s got a 12-0 amateur record. He fights because he wants to. Not because he needs to. That alone makes him dangerous.

The bag splits, sending a shower of sand to the mat, and he snarls in frustration.

“D’you think I could get some sparring in with Tank?”

“You’re not ready for Tank”, Frankie says shortly. “Listen, I don’t know how to tell you this kid, but your fight’s off”.

A screech runs through me. I search Frankie for signs that he’s joking. I find none. “Did Jackson get injured?” There’s no way that my opponent pulled out. It’s almost impossible to coordinate amateur fights. “He needs this just as much as I do”.

Frankie opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “Fine. Fuck him. We’ll find someone else, right? There’s gotta be a hundred guys desperate for a match”.

“I don’t think so, Parker”. Frankie runs his hands through his thinning hair. “Now might not be the right time”.

“ Not the right time ?” I echo. Wait. Something’s not right. Why isn’t Julius telling me this? Normally, if I’m late, I’d be doing penance push-ups by now. “What’s going on, Frankie?”

“Nothing”. Frankie scuffs his shoe on the floor.

“Are you going to tell me the truth?” I demand, “Or do I have to hear it from your brother?” He doesn’t reply. “Fine”.

I stride towards the manager’s office but Frankie shouts after me, stopping me in my tracks. “He doesn’t want you here anymore, Parker. You’re out”.

I stop. Turn slowly. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, alright?” He nods towards the gym office. “You know things have been tight around here, financially-speaking”.

“What else is new?”

“And we had to make some tough calls”.

“If it’s about money, I can pay you more. If you need it for my training”. I do some quick math in my head. Extra shifts. Sleeping in my car. Sell my stuff. I can do it. I can figure it out. “Just tell me how much”.

“Bigger than you can afford, kid. Things have been difficult for a while. We’ve got big debts. Rent increase. So when we got an offer, we had no choice”.

An offer? What the—oh, no. No. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“The Darwin Family are big investors in local businesses”. Frankie rubs the back of his head. “We weren’t in any position to say no”.

The new equipment. Suddenly it all becomes clear. “They bought you off”. My voice is dangerously low. Not content with getting me kicked out of college, Darwin’s quest for revenge has followed me to my gym. “To kick me out?”

“It’s not like that, Parker”.

“Then what the fuck is it like?” My shoulders curl painfully inward. I should have seen this coming. Frankie looks almost as stricken as I feel.

“Just let me talk to Julius”, I beg, despair seeping from every pore. “Come on Frankie, I’ve been training every single day for months. I’ve worked my whole life for this”.

“I’m sorry”. Frankie sounds like he means it. “You’re done here. At least for now”. It’s then I notice that Tank has appeared behind me. Cracking his knuckles. Just waiting for me to make a scene. “It’s not personal, Parker”.

“Not personal?” I say, a crack threatening to splinter my voice. Part of me wants to storm into the office and tell Julius the price of his blood money. But where would that get me? My eyes land on the quote above the door.

‘A fighter is nothing without his honour’.

Frankie follows my gaze. “You might want to change that”, I say, grabbing my stuff. “Because they’re just fucking words, Frankie. They don’t mean shit”.

It’s only when I get outside that I realise…

Neither do I.

***

I’ve been walking for ten minutes before my phone rings. I know without looking that it’s my mom. I pick up, but carry on walking.

“I suppose you already know”, she begins, without waiting for me to say hello. “That your tutor has made me aware of the mess you’re in. I can’t understand why you’re so determined to throw away your future, Parker. It is not like it was particularly easy for you to get into college in the first place, and now, to not even try when you’re there. It baffles me”.

“I know”. No matter how many times I’ve tried to explain.

“When I think of all the hours wasted applying to every school in the country. The tutors. The college tours. Not to mention the loans you already have!”

“Money that could have been saved if you’d just listened to me when I told you what I really wanted to do”, I cut in, but there’s no point. When Maria Di Rossi gets on a roll, there’s no stopping her. She took over the ‘tough love’ role from my dad after he died. Emphasis on the tough.

My bus is just about to pull off and I jump on right as the doors snap shut behind me. My mom hasn’t stopped.

“I was the first member of my family to go to college. I had to beg my parents to let me go. I worked three jobs just to pay my tuition, all so that I could build a future for myself where I wasn’t breaking out into a cold sweat every time a bill landed on the mat and to give my kids the kind of life I never had and now… ” she reaches her crescendo. “My first-born son, with the whole world at his feet, decides to throw it all away !”

“I’ve got a hearing in a few days”. I swallow evenly. “I might not get kicked out. So don’t feel you have to disown me just yet”.

I grip a handrail. Hopefully, we’ll go through a tunnel and I’ll get cut off.

“I’d never do that”, she says sharply. “And whilst you might still act like a child, you’re a grown man now. You have to live with your choices. And since you’ve backed out on our deal—”

“We didn’t have a deal”, I say quietly. “You said I either had to finish college or take a job working for Simon at Summit. It was an ultimatum, not a deal”.

She sighs. “Parker. We can’t go on like this. Something has gone wrong somewhere, and I don’t know where. If your father were here, he’d…” she breaks off. The crack in her voice is sharp enough to splinter glass.

My jaw tightens. “You said you wouldn’t bring up dad. You promised”.

“I broke my promise. You broke your deal. Looks like neither of us can be trusted”. She clears her throat. “Your stepfather and I have been talking, and we both agree it’s best if we have some space. I hope to God your college takes pity on you. But if they don’t, Simon is expecting you on Monday. The job comes with a room. Take this for what it is, Parker. A chance to start over”.

She rings off. I stare at the phone, blinking rapidly. Her words run through my mind. Something has gone wrong somewhere.

When I look up, I’m standing at the entrance to Roberta Mercy Hospital.