“Screw easy.” I laughed. “Not with the training schedule Jono has me on.”

I was about to lay out my training regimen but stopped when the sportscasters started talking about my fight. I turned up the TV and listened.

“Haywood versus Crane. Can we talk about the explosive match we witnessed tonight? Kace Haywood, up and coming boxer, has taken the boxing scene by storm, introducing his quick instincts and fast punches that result in an early knockout with almost any opponent he comes across. With his professional title in tow, he will be unstoppable.”

A video montage of my amateur and professional career unfolded while a voiceover started telling my story.

“At a young age, Kace Haywood had an interest in the sport, but it wasn’t until after high school he started to take his career seriously. Born and raised in New Orleans, he self-trained in a small gym that has since been washed away by Hurricane Katrina. Prevailing through the storm, he continued to train and has now hired the infamous Jono Mills as his trainer. With Jono at his side, Kace Haywood is a lethal combination of smarts, instincts, quick feet, and impeccable timing. With the extra muscle Haywood has put on and the in-depth knowledge from his trainer, Kace Haywood will be a household name in the next few months.”

Jett patted me and then squeezed my shoulder, letting me silently know he was proud of my accomplishments, of how I was able to succeed in my sport so quickly and make a name for myself.

The announcers came back into view, looking at their notes.

“Farfetched prediction or spot on?” one talking head asked another.

“Spot on. Kace Haywood has it all. The talent, the speed, and the looks. He is the total package. He will make sponsors happy, bring more female viewers to the sport, and set the standard for all boxers to come.”

“I don’t think they could have blown anymore sunshine up your ass if they’d tried,” Jett pointed out.

“They could have talked about the punisher in my pants.” I winked.

“I tried to send them pictures, but they said it would have been too embarrassing for you. I tried to tell them you didn’t mind showing off all two inches, but they refused.”

“Fuck off.” I laughed.

“It’s always about dick size with you, isn’t it?” Jett asked.

“When is it not about dick size?”

“Not sure.” Jett laughed, finishing his beer.

Taking a serious spin on our conversation, I asked, “Are you ever going home or are you going to continue to pussy up and sleep in my guest room?”

“Don’t want to leave you alone. I know how much the dark scares you,” Jett countered.

“Seriously, man. You have to go home at some point. You have to move on.”

“I know,” he answered sharply. “I fucking know.” He ran his hands through his hair, resting his elbows on the bar. “It’s just not that easy. The place is so empty now. I miss her.”

“Natasha?” I asked, completely confused.

Jett grimaced as he turned his head slightly toward me. “Fuck no, not Natasha. I miss my mom.”

Ah hell. I wasn’t good at shit like this. I’d never been the kind of guy who carried around a great deal of empathy, so dealing with other’s emotions wasn’t my bread and butter. Give me a fucking punching bag, and I could smoke the shit out of it, but emotions? I would rather get knocked out in the first round.

Jett had recently lost his mother to AIDS after reconnecting with her. Jett had grown up on the wealthy side of life. His dad was a business tycoon who’d used Jett’s mother to have his child so one day, he’s have someone to pass his business down to. Once she gave birth to Jett, his father had made sure that she never saw her child again, making Jett grow up without the love of his mother. Because Jett was so soured by his father’s lack of affection toward his mother, Jett made it his mission to grow to be a better man than his dad.

Knowing Jett never showed an ounce of feelings, I had to man up and be there for him. He would do the same thing for me, even though we had a silent understanding that we never explored our feelings with each other.

“Damn, I’m sorry, man,” was all I could think to say.

“Me too,” Jett agreed. He took a deep breath and said, “I just wish I could have done more for her. I wish I’d had more control over the situation. I hate not having control.”

“I can understand that,” I said lamely. Digging deep, I continued, “I need control too. I need control over everything. I think that’s why I trained myself for all those years and why it took so long for me to hand over my future to a trainer. Without control, I feel lost, almost confused.”

“Exactly,” Jett said, pulling a little harder on his hair. “I feel anxious, like I can’t breathe.”

“Like someone is sitting on your chest, clouding your thoughts and ripping your very instincts out from under you,” I added.

“Do you think I could have saved her?” Jett asked softly.

Wanting to sound as sincere as possible, I cleared my throat and placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, Jett, I don’t think you could have. I think you gave your mom a loving end to her life. She left on a good note, on a happy note. That is something you should focus on, not the other side of things, because if you focus too much on what you could have done, you will just drive yourself to an early death. It’s not healthy.”

Jett nodded as he looked at his empty bottle. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and chanced a glance at me. “Shit, things just got profound.” He chuckled.

Knowing I could easily make a sarcastic comment, I decided not to and agreed with him. “They did, but don’t ever think you can’t talk to me. I know I can be an emotional void at times, but I’m here for you, man. Always will be.”

“I appreciate that,” Jett said, getting out of his chair. He took a look at his watch and let out a long breath. “I guess I’ll be heading back to my place.”

“You can stay if you want.” I shrugged, not caring either way.

“Nah, I think it’s about time we put this little live-in situation we’ve got going on, on the back burner. I think it’s about time we both get some pussy.”

“Speak for yourself.” I winked.

A slow smile crept across Jett’s face. “Bullshit. When?”

“Locker room,” I said with pride.

“From who, Jono?”

“Fuck no!” I said, laughing. “One of the ring girls.”

“Catch her name this time?” Jett asked, shrugging into his jacket.

“Not quite.”

“Classic Kace.” Jett shook his head. With a serious look on his face, he added, “Seriously though, I’m proud of you, Kace. You’ve come a long way. You can only go up from here.”

“I hope so,” I said with a smile.

I had a house, I had a job, I had a purpose and a goal to maintain. My life was just beginning, and I couldn’t be more excited about what my future held for me.

Chapter Three

My present…

Right hook, left hook, upper cut, upper cut. 

Right hook, left hook, upper cut, upper cut. 

The vibration from hitting the bag in front of me ran through my body as I continuously tried to knock out the bag swinging from side to side. I repeated the cycle over and over in my head at a rapid pace, my arms flying at an uncontrollable rate until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

Sweat dripped off my face, burning into my eyes, fogging my vision, but I didn’t let it or my shortness of breath stop me. I continued to smoke the bag, to take out my frustration, to help forget. I was always trying to forget.

Right hook, left hook, upper cut, upper cut. 

Breathing became labored and the burn running through my muscles was more than welcomed by my body. I lived for the burn, for the numbing agent that temporarily eased the sear in my soul.

Upper cut, upper cut, upper cut….