Tap Out (19 page)

Amy stops walking and so does Rob. She looks at me, her eyes drawn to little beads, and I almost start apologizing, but she cuts me off. “Just what I fucking need, my baby's daddy going off and getting his face busted and then fucking some other ho.”

The fuck? What'd she just say? Rob's gone white, and Amy's staring at him like she's just waiting for him to open his mouth and say the wrong fucking thing. I get my voice to work instead.

“You're pregnant?”

Amy snaps her head but doesn't look at me. “The fuck you think this weight's about? I ain't getting fat for no reason except this boy here forgot to wrap it up.”

I put my hands up because I don't have a clue how to respond. Rob stares at the ground, looking at it like he's never seen rocks before. I don't blame him one bit. If he really is the daddy, he's fucked. Amy's not the kind to let him slip away, and Rob's the kind of guy who will take care of his responsibility. So I have to ask, “You sure he's the father?”

“Fuck you, Tone! I only been with Rob. I mean, for the past six months. I'll take a paternity test . . .” She bursts into tears, her words falling apart. Rob looks up and swallows, his face still haunted. He reaches for her, but she slaps his hand away and screams “No!” before running awkwardly to her trailer.

We both watch her, and my brain dances, trying to put this shit together. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come out like that, but you sure?”

“That she's pregnant?” Rob's voice is a dry whisper.

“No, that you're the one.”

He shrugs.

This is beyond fucked. “How long you two been hittin' it?”

“Off and on since the summer. No big deal. Ya know?”

I do and I don't. Amy's always been there, an option, but one I never actually wanted. I shake my head. Rob's still watching her trailer. I look over at mine just so I can think of something else for a second, but that doesn't really help things. “All right, man. Go talk to her. Tell her I'm sorry. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I will.” Rob's voice has no energy.

All the happiness in him is gone and I feel sorry. He really did an outstanding job today, and I haven't had the chance to let him know what Big O said, but it's like none of that matters now. He may get to work as a trainer, but he'll also be raising a baby. Not exactly what he wanted, I'm sure. But that's what happens to dreams around here. They stay just that, or turn into nightmares that haunt, because they either never came true or did in ways no one wishes they had.

“See you tonight?”

He waves as an answer and is already moving toward her trailer. I walk toward my own and am glad for once, in a long fucking while, to be in my own shoes.

T
he bell chimes and Coach Dan pops out from the back, looking as if he's been watching the door.

“How'd it go? You get her started?”

Rob's spaced out, didn't say a fucking word on the walk here. He's trying to speak now, but nothing's coming out.

“What was it? What was broken?”

“Rob, wasn't it the ignition coil?” I nudge him with my elbow.

“Yeah. Yeah it was. Easy to fix once we figured it out.”

Coach Dan's smile rips his face in two. “So you did it? Fantastic! I knew you could.” He pulls us both into a bear hug and slaps our backs. “When can I pick her up?”

I look over at Rob, and he's still struggling to get his head out of his ass. “Whenever. We're all set. I think Greyson put the keys under the visor. But check the tank if they're not there.”

“Thanks, boys.” Coach walks to the center of the room.

“You all right?” I ask Rob.

He stares ahead. “The fuck you think?”

“Listen up. We're sparring tonight, so get your mouth guards.” The room grumbles in response.

“Maybe this will help?”

Rob gives a little smile. “Yeah, I wouldn't mind throwing down a bit.” His eyes brighten and he looks over at me.
“Fuck, let's go stretch.”

We join Phil and Amir, and Amir says, “Nice to know some mechanics.”

“Hell, yeah. Might get you some regular work. Just tell the rest of the guys in here.” Phil rolls onto his back, throws his legs over his face, but keeps talking. “You seen some of the bombs these fools drive? Shit, there's a gold mine out there.”

“Not a bad idea.” Rob's voice sounds like he's coming around.

I work my hamstrings and consider the idea. I'm desperate for cash, but I can barely find some of the parts on my own. I'd need Rob, but he doesn't need me. Found out the problem with Coach's truck without any input from me. Fuck, I really do owe him. Better find a way to pay back before there's another debt I can't get out of. His world is falling apart pretty quickly, though. May not be too hard to do. Fuck that's an awful thought.

Coach claps and we all sit up. “As if I needed to remind you, we've got three of our guys on a card this week.”

A cheer rises up.

“They'll represent, and I expect that any of you who can make it to be there.” He looks each of us in the eye. “We're a family. Period. We support each other busting our asses in here, and outside this ring.”

I look down because guys are nodding like Coach is some kind of preacher or shit. Like his words are their words. They believe this, but I don't know how to react. What do I know about
family
? They shit on you.

“I've got one more thing, a bit of a surprise. Rob, come on up.”

Rob joins Coach, but looks like someone who doesn't want to pose for a picture.

“You all know that Rob's been here for over a year training his ass off.”

The room applauds, and a smile creeps over Rob's face.

Coach stifles the clapping. “Well, I just got conformation that Rob is my official mentee for personal training certification.”

The room applauds again, and Rob's smile disappears as shock overtakes his face.

“Therefore, starting tonight, Rob will be working as my assistant, learning the ropes and preparing for his exam.” Coach Dan squeezes Rob's shoulder. “No offense, but I couldn't think of a better candidate.”

Again, we clap and shout Rob's name, and again, I watch Rob deflect the praise. Coach's right, he deserves this. He's a good kid. I don't know how many people I can say that about, myself included.

“Tonight, we work hard and then lay off these three for the rest of the week. So let's take care of business.”

There's a low murmur, and I watch Rob. His face moves to happy to uneasy, eyes wide, mouth drawn tight, almost like he's going to puke. I go to speak to him but stop, because I see Dave in the corner. I don't know how I missed him before, but he's there, hunched up like a fucking gargoyle.

“Gloves, mouth guards, cups. Make sure you got 'em and line up.”

The room moves as one, and Rob goes to his bag. Fuck, I meant to snag a mouth guard, but with checking on my mom and shit there's been no time. I don't want to bother Rob, so I go to Coach Dan.

“What's up, Tony? You gonna slip me the bill for my truck now?” He laughs and I play along.

“No, I don't think you could afford our services, since we're
so good, but if you have a mouth guard we could call it even.”

“Shit, that's all. I've got a whole box. These idiots forget all the time.” He leans close to me. “Grab one, but then tell me one thing.” His voice has lost its playfulness. “What's the deal with Rob? Seems like something's eating him.”

He's got that fucking right, but it isn't my place to say, even with how nice he's being. He better not press me with any
This is my gym
bullshit. “Think it's the fight. He's nervous.”

Coach watches me for a second. “Thought so.” He nods and looks like he's trying to convince himself. “All right, we'll get his confidence up. Mouth guards are in the bottom right drawer in my desk. You'll have to mold it later.”

Rob tosses me his old gloves when I join back up with the class. I try to get used to the wad of black plastic in my mouth, but it feels like I'm suffocating. Rob, Amir, and Mike stand out in the middle. The rest have formed three lines. I enter Rob's.

“Here's the progression. Each line will run through three times. No switching. First, stand-up sparring only. Five punches max. Second, go straight to the clinch. Take 'em down if you can. You'll stop on my whistle. Third, start from the ground and go for submission. Again, on my whistle, or a tap out.” Coach steps back to the far wall. Rob is slouched before him, weight on his heels. Dave's bouncing like a jackhammer.

“Fighters set!” Coach barks and all three pop into stance. “Go!”

Punches fly, but most are dodged or deflected. Many are way overthrown. The next group does the same. “Come on, make some contact! Let's go, Dave!”

Dave and the third group set out.

The other two rage against Rob and Mike with flurries, but they just block and it's over. Dave's patient. He jabs left
and gets Amir looking. He then plants his foot and lands a solid hook in Amir's side. The air blasts from Amir and he sags. Dave switches feet seamlessly and pops Amir a quick kick to his other side. Fuck, Coach never said anything about feet. He's clenching his jaw now, biting his whistle, and watching Dave, but not saying a word.

Amir rights himself, but is slow to react to Dave's next punch and it clips his ear. Fuck, Dave's four for four. No one else has even landed one.

“Come on, Amir,” Rob says. Dave cocks his head but doesn't look. Amir sets himself and deflects Dave's last jab. Coach blows the whistle.

“Nice job, Dave. Come on everyone, give 'em some.”

The guy in front of me goes toe-to-toe with Rob, but he couldn't punch his way out of a playground brawl, and looks almost glad to return to the end of the line. I step up.

Take away the gloves and this is just another day for Rob and me. We've been slap boxing and doing takedowns since like the first fucking grade. I fake with my shoulder, get him to lurch, and then pop him with a quick jab to the eye. He steps back and smiles. Coach Dan yells, “All right.”

Rob charges me, but I sidestep and catch him in the kidney as he passes. He turns and isn't smiling anymore. We weave and I jab a couple of times. “Last throws, right here,” Coach says and Rob flexes his entire body.

I stay loose and look for somewhere to strike. A combo from last class surfaces and I move in. Rob backs up, but can't resist changing direction when I go to a knee. I clip his chin with my right as I drive up, standing. He struggles back and hits the wall.

“Sweet Jesus, Tone.” Coach Dan blows his whistle. “Nice goddamn work.”

I look at Rob one last time before I return to the line. He's off the wall, shaking his head to clear it, and seems to be laughing. Guys in line clap my back, and even Dave nods as I settle in.

“Now for the clinch.”

Same rotation and similar results. There's a lot of pulling and head tucking and leg whipping, but no one goes down. Coach blows his whistle, and the second group sets out. Rob, Amir, and Mike get in the clinch at the same time, and like a set of dominoes, each opponent goes down. “There we go!”

Rob's got his fire back, and he gets the next kid on his hip, but can't get him down. I turn and Dave and Amir are fighting for leverage, each with a hand around the other's head, pawing at the free arm with the other. Then Dave tucks his body, drawing Amir down, shifts his weight to his outside foot and strikes the other behind Amir's leg. They wobble as Amir fights for balance, but end up in a heap, Dave on top. The whistle blows.

I step out after the guy in front of me who basically lets Rob throw him to the ground. He makes me look like a raging hard-on compared to his pussy ass. Rob and I lock up, push and pull and I try to get a feel for where he's headed. Coach is yelling something but I can't make it out. And I really don't care. Rob tries getting me into a choke hold, but I slide out by bringing my arm up and through. Then momentum shifts. Rob's beneath me and I'm weightless, and in a second staring at the ceiling. Coach's whistle blows.

Rob helps me up. “Nice job, Tone.”

I try to speak but the mouth guard's in the way.

The guys keep rolling, and I care only about watching Dave. He's the only one in here who's fucking shit up. It's strange, but I feel my body shift as he shifts, mimicking his
moves, trying to learn them. He's a motherfucking asshole, but damn good at this shit, and right now is fucking up Amir in a thousand different ways. And I know he and Rob have been doing this for about the same amount of time, but it feels like Dave's been at it longer.

Dave straddles Amir and pins his arms to his chest. Amir bucks, lifting Dave up by raising his hips. Dave teeters and Amir gets a hand free. He ropes it around Dave's neck and spins out from beneath him. Dave keeps a hand leveraged and tries working the other through Amir's hold. Amir works his legs around Dave's extended arm and even I can see where this is headed. Dave waited too long and now he's trying to pull away. He pitches to his side, Amir's legs around him like a snake. Amir releases Dave's head and sits upright, crushing Dave's arm.

Dave reaches to tap, but then refuses. His arm's out and we're all watching for it, but it's just lying flat. Coach's biting his whistle and shaking his head, but, like before, Dave still isn't tapping. Coach mutters something, his words forcing the whistle to chirp. Amir looks up and Coach juts his chin at Dave's arm and then shakes his head. Amir nods and Coach gives the whistle a full blast.