Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Let’s take today off,” Ari offered and eyed Teo. “Looks like you need it.”
He smiled. “Guilty.”
“Then tomorrow morning, we’ll drive to Portland together for our match against St. Luka’s. Well-rested and ready to win.”
Ari’s eyes fixed us with an all-knowing stare. Not that she was wrong. I’d rather use my dick than my brain at this point, but there was too much to do.
“I’ll call Pinstripe. Get him on board. Then we’ll take it easy. All of us.”
Everyone mumbled their agreement and split up for a rare day off. I spent the rest of the day working through conditions and a three-month contract with Pinstripe. By the time I went to bed, I had a raging headache and an even worse mood. It lingered the entire three-hour drive to Portland all throughout warmups. I tried to hide my annoyance during pre-media with St. Luka’s, but before I could walk off, their best fighter—Alonzo Margina—slapped me on the shoulder.
“You look like you ate a lemon, bud. That a new pregaming tactic?”
“Sure. All you have to do is fuck everything up to get this frown,” I muttered. St. Luka’s were nice enough, but we needed to focus on winning.
Alonzo’s smile took up half his face and showed off his chipped canine. “Pass on that one, but if you got any lemon-flavored candy, I’m first in line.”
“Leave him alone, Zo.” Monique, the only female in the entire Circuit, peeled his hand off me. “You eat enough as it is.”
“I can see that.” River strolled up next to me. “Put on some muscle in the last few weeks, Alonzo?”
“Gotta beat you somehow. You’re one scary motherfucker, you know that?” He held out his hand for River to shake. “May the best man win.”
“Or woman.” Monique shot us a smile. “I’ll go easy on your boy Teo.”
“You can kick his ass, it’s fine.” River took the offered hand. “But not mine, thanks.”
“Lotto, River, get over here!” Frankie barked. Bones, Ari, and Teo stood around him, already talking strategy.
“We should get back to Vinny, too. Good luck out there.” Monique waved a hand before they headed toward their side of the ring.
As soon as I approached, Bones slid an arm around my shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine. I can handle Vinny no problem.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to say anything because a bad feeling was lingering in my gut. Maybe Ari was right that signing Pinstripe was bad vibes because I couldn’t shake it, even after Teo and Monique drew and River won his match.
Bones stepped into the ring with Vinny and tapped gloves. My entire body was on edge. One round passed. Then two. Everything was going fine, and for the first time since yesterday, I was able to catch my breath.
But it was way too fucking short-lived.
Thirty-two seconds into the third round, Bones threw a right hook and clipped Vinny Russo’s chin. Vinny went down.
But so did Bones.
Cradling his right hand as he cried out in pain.
Chapter
Fourteen
BONES
Istared at the X-ray of my hand until it blurred into a mess of black and white.
The doctor blabbed on and on about fractured knuckles. Bruised muscles. Healing time. Minimums and maximums. Taking it easy. I heard absolutely none of it. My mind was too busy repeating the same thing over and over.
You’re a fucking dumbass, Bones. You’re letting them down.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d always had shit luck. But man, the day after signing my backup “just in case”? Someone out there had it in for me. Part of me was glad I’d spoken up, but it was barely a blip in the overwhelming guilt I felt.
Now what? Pinstripe might have been the next man up, but he was horseshit. I’d faced him six times over the course of my underground career. Four times before my fall from grace and twice after my resurgence. I’d wiped the floor with him every time. And if I was struggling to make it in the Circuit?
Smiley’s Gym was about to plummet to the bottom of the bracket.
“—questions?”
I lifted my head and blinked at the old doctor. “Sorry?”
“Do you have any questions for me?”
Plenty, since I hadn’t been paying a lick of attention.
“How long do you think I'll take to heal?”
“Like I said, it’s four to six weeks without surgical treatment—”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to hear doctor shit right now. Talk to me, man to man. How long will it take to heal?”
The doctor took off his glasses, and they dangled around his neck on a thin chain “You’re a healthy guy. X-rays show wear and tear on your body over the years, but you’ve healed well. I’d say about four. That’s if you take it easy and not use it at all. If not, you may require surgery.”
“And rehab?”
“To be back at boxing? A few weeks, just to be safe.” He eyed me like a disappointed father. “If you want my opinion man to man, here it is. Don’t jump back into boxing or you won’t have a career to jump back into. Take your resting and rehab seriously, kid. Health is wealth.”