“I don’t like it, but it’s what Em wants. So, yeah, we’re on.” Kieran and Earnshaw fist-bumped each other, and I knew they were excited about making the most of this opportunity. It didn’t occur to me to worry about whether or not I could win or how painful the cost would be to achieve that win. My body was conditioned to feel pain for so long that I didn’t fear it. I worried about how much Em could endure with this trial and without me, and it bothered me that she had to try.
Earnshaw looked at me and could see my unease. “I think you’re making the right decision, but that’s easy for me to say because I have nothing to lose. So what do we need to do to get you through this?” he asked. I looked over at Danny, who still looked concerned. He loved Em like a daughter, and he was by her side when Frank stabbed her. But this was a world title fight, which meant he needed to be with me. I wasn’t the only one who was struggling, and there was no easy fix.
“You, me, Kier, and Danny will train and everyone else stays with Em. We make ourselves as close and accessible as possible until we fight and she stays with me for every minute she’s not in court,” I said. Earnshaw ran his hand back and forth through his hair as he contemplated something, and I guessed he did that a lot.
“Here’s the thing. Temple has one of the best boxing training facilities in the world, and its public knowledge. They don’t want the underdog claiming that Temple’s had unfair advantages, so they’re offering you a state-of-the-art training camp in the US where you can train for the fight and acclimatize.”
“We’re not going,” I told him. “It’s bad enough we’re missing the trial. I won’t miss having her by my side every night,” I explained.
“We’re not set up here to train for this kind of fight, Con,” Kier reasoned with me, but I wasn’t hearing it.
“Years ago, there was none of these state-of-the-art fancy gyms. We ain’t from money, and we don’t need it to get where we’re going. If we’re doing this, then we’re doing it old school,” barked Danny, which was pretty much the first contribution he’d made to this discussion, and the last word on the subject.
Chapter 11
We stood in what once passed as a kitchen. The sink had been taken out, and the plumbing capped. The floor was torn up, and the concrete exposed, and there wasn’t a single door on the filth-laden cabinets at our backs.
“Right, lads,” I said, raising my bottle of beer in the air. “Here’s to one last weekend, for me at least, of beer, marital relations, and unhealthy eating before I hand Danny my balls and get training. I know you could be doing anything you want this weekend, and I thank you for spending it helping me fix up our place.”
“Sláinte,” I toasted, tapping my bottles against theirs.
“Any idea where to start?” asked Tommy? as he kicked at a loose floor tile.
I tipped my bottle toward Liam. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”
“We’ve got two Dumpsters out front. Let’s gut and clean this place to give us our blank canvas. Then next week when you’re training, Tommy and his dad can start the plumbing and Big Joe can take a look at the electric. I’m a fair hand at plastering, so I can get cracking when they finish. By the time the fight’s done, you should be ready for carpentry and decorating so you can take over.” Liam laid it all out, but a part of me worried that this whole thing would stand still while I was training but Liam caught my eye, pulling me out of my own head.
“Listen, Con, I can see you stressing already? and we ain’t even started. Me and the lads, we got your back. You gotta job to do, and that job is to put Rico Temple on his arse and win us some money.”
“Huh?” I grunted stupidly. From his back pocket, Liam pulled out a betting slip. “Soon as news of the fight went live, bookies started posting odds, and we all went down.” Looking around, they all pulled out their betting slips.
“No pressure then,” I said, touched that they believed in me enough to risk what little money they had.
“No pressure at all,” said Liam with a grin. “We all bet on the other guy so we couldn’t give a shit whether you train or sit around for three months getting fat. In fact we’re actively encouraging Em with her baking.”
“Fuck off,” I told him playfully. “You guys can sit back and become fat arses. I’ve got work to do.”
“Of course we bet on you, brother,” said Kieran. “But you’re not doing this for us, or for Danny or Em. You do this for yourself.”
He was right but that didn’t change the fact that I wouldn’t be standing here on the brink of a life-changing opportunity without them.
“Of course that don’t mean we’re not gonna make the most of it when you do win. Ringside seats in Vegas with a hot girl on each arm sounds like a bloody good plan to me,” Tommy chipped in.
“Shouldn’t you be getting those STDs cleared up before you go on the hunt for more hotties?” warned Kieran.
“Fuck you and your fucking STDs,” grumbled Tommy.
“Take your frustration out on the house, my little friend,” Kier teased Tommy as he patted him condescendingly. “You can roll around with me when you’re feeling better,” he told him.