Three quick jabs followed by an even quicker uppercut finally does the job. Evan Mits goes down, and my reputation in the boxing world soars in the opposite direction with that final blow. The crowd loses their minds, and I can hear the sports announcer screaming over the intercom, “And Trial does it again! Looks like he is back in the game, folks!”

Yes, this was a hell of a match, but I brought this punk down a notch. The referee holds my glove high, and I can see Caleb three rows back grinning ear to ear. He took a huge risk signing me; hell, the guy’s small management company was so broke he couldn’t even afford to pay for a trainer for me. He put a lot of faith in me, so I shoot a big grin his way. Tyler and Bobby are in the front row screaming their lungs out. Pretty sure that Tyler is drunk, but I’m not judging.

By the time I make it to the locker room, Caleb is there waiting for me with a big smile. “That’s it, man!” Caleb says and slaps me on my back. “You did it. This was the match everyone has been waiting to see whether or not to take you seriously again, and you fucking did it.”

I nod. “Thanks,” I say and hold out my gloves. He yanks them off and helps me undo my tape.

“We got to go out and celebrate,” Caleb says. “My treat.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m going to have to take a rain check on this one. Brandi is still at the hospital and Ambriel is still in the NICU. I’m heading straight there after this.”

“That’s right, my bad, man. Did you get the flowers I sent?” Caleb asks.

I nod. He had sent a pretty fancy bouquet along with a teddy bear for Ambriel. “Brandi loved it.”

“Good,” Caleb says with this grin plastered all over his face. This was a high for both of our careers. He was certainly going to be taken seriously as a manger now. “All right, well, whether you come or not, I’m going out tonight to celebrate even if I have to ride solo.”

I laugh. “You do that, Caleb.”

“A quick warning before I leave: that punk, Donte, is here tonight. He’s got a match in less than an hour. Try to get out of the locker room before he shows, all right?” Caleb warns and heads out. I cringe and rush to get out of there as soon as possible; the last thing I need right now is to get into another fight with Donte in the damn locker room.

No such luck. The fucker is there almost as soon as I am finished changing. “What’s up?” he calls out to me, snagging a locker not too far from where I am standing. His manager shakes his head as though to tell him ‘no’ and attempts to push him along.

I turn my back and rush to throw things into my bag; I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit tonight. Donte’s opponent is here too; his locker is right next to mine, and he rolls his eyes. Pretty much everyone here knows all about mine and Donte’s drama right down to Donte sleeping with my wife right after the divorce. Glad to see Donte’s opponent for the evening thinks he’s as big of a tool as I believe him to be. The guy takes a swig of his water bottle, looks at me, looks at Donte, looks back at me, and shakes his head. “Fuck him, man. Good job tonight,” he says it softly so that Donte can’t hear. “The guy is just shaking after watching you tonight. Knows his manager wants to set up that revenge match, and he’s worried you’ll beat the shit out of him. Trust me –we’re all rooting for you.”

I thank the guy, and he heads out –obviously not wanting to stick around too long. Donte had a reputation for antagonizing his opponents at venues where they had to share a locker room. Donte’s manager leaves, making me free game. I rush to lace up my shoes, but I can’t finish them fast enough. “How’s Brandi?” Donte asks as his trainer’s assistant ties up his hands.

“Fuck off,” I say.

“Damn –sensitive, are we?” Donte laughs. “Okay, fine. How’s the baby doing? Seriously.”

“She’s fine,” I say, but I know I shouldn’t say a word to him.

“So listen, man, you sure that baby’s even yours? I mean, it is Brandi. You and I both know what a skank she is.”

There it is. There’s the line. I stand up and spin around, not realizing he has come right up to me, and me spinning around brings us nose to nose. I have to admit, after having my ass handed to me by this guy twice, I cringe a little. I take a deep breath. I am going to the hospital tonight to see my wife and child –not to spend it in the fucking ER. I’m not fighting this guy. Not tonight. “You tell your manager you want that revenge match,” I say. “Because if my guy can’t book it, I’m just going to assume it’s because you pussied out.”

He glares at me. “I ain’t no pussy. Did you forget I beat you ass twice?”

“So you shouldn’t be afraid to do the revenge match then, right?” I ask with a glare.

He grunts and takes a step back. “Sure, Trial. You want to go for a third round, let’s do it. I’ll tell my manager to book the fight. And I’ll put you back in the hospital again or in the ground with your buddy, Gabe.”

I clench my fists; the kid who had tied up Donte’s wrists takes two big steps back as though he expects me to go full fury on him. It takes every ounce of control I have not to. “We’ll settle this in the ring, Donte.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says and leaves the locker room; his trainer’s assistant follows close behind.

I exhale loudly. I certainly have a lot more control than I used to. As I am getting ready to leave, I see that Donte left his locker open. I go to close it, mostly out of habit and less out of respect for the guys stuff, and there it is –plain as day like the dumbass isn’t even trying to hide it. Fucking steroids.

My jaw drops. It’s like the angel of war just placed this here for me to see. Holy shit! Donte’s taking steroids! He must have gotten distracted with me being here because what idiot would just leave this out for the whole world to see? I take out my phone and snap probably fifty pictures of the bottle. Next to the steroids is a bottle of extra strength sleeping pills. What could he possibly be using those for? I glance back towards my locker; his opponent’s water bottle is still seated on the bench. No way.

I snag the bottle for evidence. This is just too fucking great. I wonder if he drugged me during our matches? I try to think back, but they were a long time ago. Did I ever leave my water or a drink unattended? Does Donte have people helping him accomplish this? This could mean that punks career! And he deserves it. He really does –throwing Gabe’s name at me like that, and the shit he says about Brandi and the shit he said about Laurel too. If I can prove that he’s taking steroids and that he’s drugging his opponents before a match then this asshole is finished.