“Is that all you got Phillips?” Vic calls out from the side of the ring. “Either your head is up your ass or Chance is on fire today.”

I dance around the ring, waiting for Phillips to retaliate. Saying shit like that is like lighting a match under someone’s ass. No fighter likes to be reminded he’s not pulling his weight. Not me and especially not this punk. He’s a nineteen-year-old little shit that hasn’t earned his place in the gym hierarchy yet, which makes him that much hungrier to earn it. What better way than to knock a titled fighter on his ass? Even if it means fighting dirty to do it.

Phillips weighs in near me, but he’s sluggish muscle and bulk. I’m taller by several inches and muscularly lean, faster on my feet. He grabs me, trying to grapple me to the ground. Vic scolds him from the side, but I twist, breaking free of his hold, my own street fighting instincts not forgotten.

He’s better suited for MMA, but Vic won’t listen to me. Says if I can make the transition from street fighting, using any tactic to stay alive, he can break Phillips of it, teaching him the same discipline. I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Sometimes Vic’s love of boxing and the belief it’s a dying sport has him believing anyone can be a boxer.

Phillips takes a jab, partially connecting to my rib cage before I deflect, taking advantage of the opening when he forgets to set up and I land three solid contacts to his ribs before he can recover.

“Gotta watch him, Phillips!” Vic calls out and I wonder who’s being trained here. Today’s my first day back after my last win in Atlantic City several weeks back. First week is usually an assessment of my performance compared to my upcoming opponent. We build the next ten weeks around that. Vic’s been riding me for hours: cardio, bags, and now sparring. Now his attention seems to have shifted to this kid.

Phillips’ eyes narrow under his headgear; he’s angry and taking it personal and that pisses me off. I don’t have time for his shit. After he and I get done dancing around in this ring, I still have another hour of cardio before I can get home to Mia. I step in, landing a series of punches. Not wanting to hurt him, I knock the wind out of him and watch him fall to the mat, fighting to get it back.

“What I tell you about the block?” Vic climbs between the ropes to help Phillips and I motion for Smith to unlace my gloves. I push my mouth guard out and throw it in the bucket before Phillips has his breath back.

“Where you think you’re going?” Vic yells to me as I step from the ring.

I turn around. “My work here is done.” My eyes flit down to the sour look Phillips is directing at me and smile before looking back at Vic. “I’m going to do cardio, then to the shower, and then drag my ass home to my woman. Cut me some slack, it’s my first day back,” I say grinning as his mouth drops open.

Vic hadn’t asked me today about the mysterious lady in my life. I expected it to be the first question from his mouth after being holed up for a day and half with a snowstorm. When he didn’t mention it, I assumed he forgot about her, but given his expression, he probably thought I’d blown my load and tired of her by now. If it had been anyone other than Mia, he’d be spot on, but she’s different.

His thin lips creep into a grin and he shakes his head. I turn, not waiting around to hear any shit and head for the far wall.

“That kid wants a piece of your ass,” Smith says through a chuckle, handing me a jump rope.

I look across the gym, taking in the old man hovered down inches from Phillips’ face. I’ve been on the receiving end of that lecture a hundred times over the years.

“He better listen to that old man if he thinks he’ll ever see the day where he brings me down.”

Smith and I chuckle, beginning our cardio. Smith may not compete anymore, but it doesn’t stop the big son of a bitch from training like he does. We both put on our headphones, ready to begin the last hour of torture.

Vic steps in front of me forty-five minutes later. His mouth moving, I see the angry vein in his neck popping, and I read my name on his lips. I yank my headphones off. “You gotta call Edward. He says he’s been calling your cell phone and you’re not answering.”

“Well, no shit,” I mutter, following him to his office. “Did he say anything?” I ask eagerly, knowing today’s the day Michelle is being served. I woke up anxious this morning, but after lying with Mia in my arms, she calmed me, convincing me to stay focused on my training.

“He said he’s been calling your cell phone and you’re not answering,” he says grouchily.

“What’s up your ass?” I ask as we step into his office.

“Phillips. He’s a pain in my ass.” He slides his antique rotary phone across the desk and I shake my head. It’ll take me five minutes to dial his number on that thing. I grab my bag from the floor and dig my cell phone out of it, dialing Edward with the touch of one finger while mixing my protein shake. Vic looks at me in challenge when he sees me doing my end-of-workout routine. I ignore him, going about my business, pouring water into the shaker bottle. I’m either gonna be pissed off when I get off this phone or ready to celebrate, either way, I’m calling it a day.

“Chance, Michelle’s been informed!” Edward greets me and then laughs victoriously, sending a smile across my face.

“That’s it! She knows?”

“Yep and now you’re free to contact her to make arrangements to see the boys.”

“Thank you, Edward,” I say, unable to knock the smile from my face.

“What about the woman?” he asks and my eyes flit to Vic. He’s listening to my side of the conversation.

“Everything is fine,” I answer vaguely for Vic’s benefit. “What about Bryson Maguire?”

“I made a phone call today and spoke to him personally. After tossing out a few threatening legal terms, he was more than accommodating to remove the original post—”

“That only removes the reblogs, not the reposting. I want more.”

“I have Elena working on it. She understands that new age stuff far more than I ever will. She has a list of his followers and is combing through them as we speak. But Chance, this guy doesn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. There’s no money there.”

“It was never about the money. I just want it gone.”

“He’s assured us that it is, we’re making certain of it. Speaking of money, I looked at that endorsement contract. There’s nothing in it out of the ordinary. You’ll have to carve out some time in the near future for a campaign shoot. Watch your public opinion, don’t do anything controversial and definitely don’t get arrested!” I hear the smile in his voice. “It’s been couriered back to you for your signature and I’m in the process of scheduling a conference call.”

“Okay, sounds good,” I reply, looking forward to getting on with the next stage of my life. I have the best endorsement contract I’ve been offered to date, another fight in less than three months, Mia at home waiting for me, and I’ve made progress with getting the boys back. Life is good.

“Don’t go in there pissing off Michelle, but let me know if you need my help,” he chuckles.

“Got it. I’ll let you know.” We disconnect and I meet Vic’s eager eyes. I repeat everything Edward said, leaving out the part about Mia. “So, tell me about Phillips. He giving you problems you can’t handle?” I slide into the seat, chugging down my protein shake.

“I can handle anything anyone can dish,” he says pointing his finger at me, accusingly. I raise my palms, resigning to his authority. “He just won’t listen!”

“That sounds familiar,” I rough, remembering he used to say the same thing about me.

“He’s not like you. You had a hunger to improve. This kid wants to prove the world is wrong and he is right.” He sits back in his creaky chair.

“What’s his story?”

“Rich kid,” he says in disgust and I nod. That’s the problem. I lived at the bottom and knowing what that felt like was incentive enough to take any shit Vic was dishing because going back to that wasn’t an option. But I guess something brought him to this gym, to train under Vic, so whatever Vic’s interest in him is, I’ll support that. “I think I may be getting too damned old for this shit,” he sighs and I smile. Vic is the toughest man I know, but for every ounce of tough, he’s as much dedicated.

“The other night I was telling my girlfriend about you and after all the shit I told her and the tough ass lessons you’ve taught me over the years, her conclusion was you’re the type of person who doesn’t give up on anything.” I stand, grabbing my bag and phone from the desk. “Don’t start now, Vic. Who in the fuck knows where I’d be if you’d given up on me.” I turn for the door.

“Hey Chance.”

I turn as I step through the door.

“She sounds like a smart woman,” he smiles.

“Mia’s way too smart for me, but let’s keep that our little secret.”

His pale cheeks redden as recognition lands in his expression. “Mia…Mia from the picture? God dammit Chance—” he yells and I slam the office door.