“What do you want?” I ask before I haul in a deep breath of oxygen, hoping to make the black spots dotting my vision disappear.
“Damn, man. I haven’t seen you train like that in ... a long fucking time.”
Hearing Rolo’s familiar voice makes me stand upright and turn to face him. “Seems like one hell of a coincidence I keep seeing you here, what with the odd training hours I’ve been keeping and all.”
Rolo crosses his arms. “We could pretend it’s a coincidence, but we both know it’s not. I got people. They let me know you were here. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
The last thing I want to do right now is have this conversation, but just like I thought before I got out of the car—if you don’t deal with shit, it keeps coming back until you do. And it always returns bigger, meaner, and more prepared to take you out.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask him.
The older man sighs and shakes his head, his chin dipping close to the gold chains around his neck. “You and me both come a long, long way, boss. We’ve always been a damn good team.”
I know where he’s going with this. No doubt he’s heard the rumors about the fight that are apparently already all over the city. I wait, and he continues.
“We both made a lot of money together too.”
“I know,” I reply.
“I’m the one who came to you about the rematch with Black, so imagine my surprise when I hear my boy, mypartner, is cutting me out of the action and making that fight happen without me, after everything I did for you. That’s some cold shit, man. Really fucking cold shit.”
I expected Rolo to be pissed—really fucking pissed—but the betrayal in his tone takes me by surprise.
Other than Q and his family, Rolo did more for me than any other person in New York or Jersey. He believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. He got me fights that people thought were insane, because he believed I could win.
Now, don’t get me wrong—he was in it for the money, and if I hadn’t been as good as I was, he wouldn’t have done all he did. But back in the day, it was more than that. We were friends.
When I was broke and needed help getting Bump into a doctor because he was sick, Rolo fronted me cash, knowing he’d make it back from the next purse I won. I’m not the kind of guy who turns his back on the people who helped him get where he is, and from Rolo’s viewpoint, that’s exactly what he thinks I did.
“I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me first, man. That was shitty of me, but in my defense, nothing is for sure yet. Until I have a signed contract in my hand, I don’t have much room to talk about what is or isn’t going down.”
Rolo’s entire posture seems to hunch forward like he just absorbed a blow. “But it is true that it’s in the works. You and Black. Sanctioned fight. At your club.”
I bounce on my toes and smack my gloves together to keep my muscles warm. “I’m in a tough spot, Rolo. This is my way out. If you were in my shoes, you’d do the same thing.”
His dark eyes sharpen on me. “I wouldn’t cut you out, man. That’s where we’re different. Don’t sign the contract. Do it underground. Fewer rules. No taxes. Whatever tough spot you’re in, I’ll help you out. We’ll make it happenour way.Fuck those guys who want contracts and assurances. That’s not how we roll.”
I inhale slowly and then release the breath. “I can’t do that. Sanctioned is the only way I’m fighting Black. Neither of us are dying in that cage, because that’s not how it should be either.”
Rolo shakes his head at me. “That new woman of yours don’t want to go slumming. That’s what it’s really about, ain’t it? She ain’t the type to go to an underground club and be able to hold her own.”
I don’t like hearing him talk about Scarlett. Not one fucking bit. But what he said is true.
“If you were me, you wouldn’t risk exposing her to shit like that either.”
“I guess times are a-changin’,” Rolo says with another long sigh. “Never thought I’d see the day when I barely recognized this city anymore. New players coming into the game every day, and here I am, just trying to hold on to our measly slice of the pie. You and me had a good thing going, Gabe. Real fucking good. Pretty soon, I’m just gonna be like one of those high school quarterbacks, reliving my glory days from the sidelines because the best ain’t yet to come. It’s already gone and passed me by. Hell of a reality check, man.”
“Shit, Rolo. It’s not like that. You’ve still got plenty of action. Your new fighter you were with the other time I saw you? Sounds like he’s a solid prospect.” I don’t know why I keep the conversation going. Guilt, I guess. Because I hate seeing Rolo look so damned depressed and beaten down.
“He’s all right. He ain’t you, though, because he ain’t got this.” Rolo reaches out to tap his finger against the side of my head. “That brain of yours was always six steps ahead of everyone else. That’s why I pushed so hard for this fight with Black. You can win. The only person who’s ever been able to beat you is yourself, Gabe. That’s the damn truth.”
My chin dips, and I stare at the spatters of sweat dotting the mat beneath our feet. An idea hits me, and I look up at him. “You ever thought about going legit? Giving Uncle Sam his cut of your take?”
Rolo’s head jerks back. “Now, why would I want to give the government a fuckin’ dime? They didn’t work for that shit. Ain’t no one robbing me of what’s rightfully mine.”
“Just think about it, Rolo. Maybe if this fight goes well at Legend, I could start up my own thing—but legit. High-end fight nights. Bigger money. Bigger gate. Do it right. I’d need someone to help make it happen.” I can’t believe what I’m saying, because I rarely speak without thinking things through—or talking them out with Q—but the fucking guilt is crushing me right now.
“You’d do that for me? Bring me in on your action?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.