Logan
I step out of the shower, and towel myself off. The steam has fogged up the mirror, and I wipe it away with the palm of my hand. Now I can see my face.
It's my father's face. The chiseled jaw line, strong brow. I even have his eyes and matching crease across my forehead.
You're a champion. Stay focused. Don't lose sight of the end goal.
The words of my father run through my mind again. "When you've completed 95 percent of your journey, you're only halfway there."
I wrap the towel around my waist and walk into the living room. The TV is on, and I see the Sports Network flash across the screen. The volume is up and I reach for the remote to silence it. But before I can do that, I stop when I hear what they're discussing.
“Sources inside the Gazette are telling us that the two premier boxing titans of the world have a deeper history than the world has ever imagined,” the network anchor says. "Few people know the tragedy that has haunted them both since college."
My body goes tense and for a few seconds, it feels like I'm holding my breath.
It's like I'm underwater and the pressure of it is pressing down on my chest.
I force myself to exhale.
Why is the Sports Network talking about Hunter and I?
I put the remote down. I refuse to silence the volume now.
The headline is still on the screen. It reads: “Hunter and Logan. Two of Boxing’s Heavyweights Linked By College Tragedy.”
What the fuck is going on? How do the Sports Network anchors know about this?
No one fucking knows the history that Hunter and I share. Not even those closest to us. The only person who knows is Hunter himself.
And then it hits me. There's only one other person who knows: Natalie.
A familiar sense of rage wells up inside of me.
I need to see Natalie.
I quickly dress and grab my keys, immediately driving to Natalie's place.
Within moments I'm knocking on her door. I hear her footsteps approach the door and then she answers.
"What are you doing here?" she smiles.
Instead of returning the smile, I give her a solemn look.
"Do you have anything to do with it? Tell me the truth," I say.
She stares at me, speechless. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
"Cut the crap. It's all over TV."
She shakes her head, and opens her door a little wider. "Why don't you come inside," she says, motioning inside of her studio.
I step in and immediately notice the small size of her place. She wasn't kidding when she said she could fit everything in the space between my fridge and dining table.
Remembering her saying that brought back the first night we met, and the first night I brought her back to my place. I shake these thoughts from my head.
She breaks the silence. "It wasn't me."
"So you do know what I'm talking about … but if it wasn't you, then who?"
"I wish I knew," she says, shaking her head. "I swear it wasn't me."
"The only other person who knows is Hunter," I say. "Could it have been him? But if it's him, why would he do that? That was always a carefully guarded secret between he and I."
"There's only one way to find out," she says. "Pick up your phone and call him."
Good idea. I don't know why I never thought of that. Of course. That's the simplest solution. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial him. The phone rings, but he doesn't answer and it eventually goes to voicemail.
"Let me try," Natalie offers. But she dials too and again, it goes to voicemail.
Just as we're about to try for a third time, we both turn and face the TV.
A sound has caught our attention.
What the fuck is going on? Just when I didn't think the day could get any stranger, it does. Sports Network is broadcasting an impromptu press conference with Hunter.
Natalie and I watch as he takes the stage. He's in a Navy blue suit, perfectly tailored, wearing dark sunglasses. But when he says my name, he has my undivided attention.
Hunter is standing behind a podium and speaking into a microphone.
"There's been a lot of talk in recent days about Logan and I. Sports analysts have been wanting to see us matched up for a long time. Some say it would be the match of a lifetime, and I'm here to officially go on record saying that I'm receptive to that match up. Logan, if you're listening, I'm ready to fight you, unless you're too scared to step into the ring with me."
The audience is going wild. They are chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And flashes are going off as reporters take pictures for the next day's newspapers.
Hunter poses for them with both fists balled and raised.
Just then, my phone starts to ring. It's ringing with unrecognizable phone numbers. Has the media already managed to dig up my number? I ignore the calls and shut my phone off.
I take a deep breath. It looks like I only have one choice now. My back is against a fucking wall.
"There's no way out of this," I say to Natalie. "I'll have to fight Hunter."
"You can't," she says, shaking her head. It's not what she wants to hear.
"What about the truce? You can't break that. You made a promise."
"That's in the past," I say, "and unfortunately, Hunter is using our past together to blackmail me into fighting him. I never thought he'd go that low, but now it's clear he has. I can't fucking stand that."
I look out the small window of Natalie's studio, lost in thought.
"I have to fight Hunter," I say, nodding my head with the recognition of it all, "because it's the honorable thing to do."