SHANE. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing right. Be the best you can be at whatever it is you choose to do. Sweeping the floor or washing the car. Nothing should ever be done half assed. I strived to be the best at anything and everything I ever decide to conquer.

Ever.

If I had attempting it and I did not succeed, you could believe I gave it my best effort, regardless of the outcome.

I choose to do very little, and be exceptional at what it is I decide to do. I would much rather be perceived as being great at a few things than be a failure at many. I have always been honest with myself and conscious of who I am, but that doesn’t always help me understand why I am the way I am.

On the outside, I am always kind, polite, and considerate of others. On the inside, a beast resides. I don’t know why or what fuels the demons inside of me, but I am very aware of their existence. My consciousness of their need, necessity, and deep desire to be fed is what has caused me to choose boxing as my main outlet.

I keep the demons fed, and they allow me to live an otherwise peaceful life. Fulfilling their hunger allows my desire to live a life of tranquility outside the boxing ring. As long as I continue to fight, they’re fed. When they are fed, I am allowed.

Allowed to live.

I have been training in one way, shape or form since I was eleven. From what my trainers have always told me, I have tremendous stamina. I can train, fight, or work out for hours on end without becoming exhausted. For this I am grateful.

I have never been in a fight that I didn’t feel was necessary. In the ring, people agree to fight me, knowing of my ability and my undefeated record. Boxing is a sport, and nothing more than a contest between two men – a contest of strength, stamina, willingness, and raw talent.

I have been in more street fights than I can count. Each time, I gave my opponent the ability to walk away. If they chose not to, I did what I had to do. In the ring or out, I have always stood the victor. The majority of my street fights were a result of me attempting to stand up for what I believed to be morally right.

I have never been afraid to fight for someone who can’t stand up on their own, and there’s not a shortage of people who act in a manner contrary to what I believe to be moral. Line every one of them up – every single one who abuses a woman, child, or the elderly and I’ll beat them senseless one person at a time.

“So, what did you decide? Did you buy them?” Mike asked.

“No. I’m going to wait until the price goes down to something more affordable,” I answered as I set my sandwich back onto the plate.

I wiped some mayonnaise from my mouth with my napkin and looked down at my boots.

“Dude, those fuckers are raggedy. Shit, I can see your socks through the bottom of the sole,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but a hundred thirty bucks is a hundred thirty bucks,” I shrugged my shoulders as I picked the sandwich up.

“You’re one weird motherfucker, Dekkar. One weird motherfucker,” he shook his head and laughed.

Mike was my first fight when I arrived in Austin two years ago. Even though I knocked him out for the first time in his career, we had become the best of friends, and never discussed that particular fight with others. I had no desire to be disrespectful to him or to his talent as a boxer.

Any man, on any given day, can be beaten by any other man. When the time comes, I will be beaten. Until then, I will remain grateful for my successes.

“Why do you have to go and say that, Ripp?” I mumbled, my mouth half full of sandwich.

“Well there are maybe a handful of people here that know you, because you’re a fucking hermit. But I do, remember? Your father, no disrespect, died in Afghanistan. Your grandfather died two years ago – right before you came here. You inherited everything from both of them. I don’t have any idea how much it was, but your father was a year from military retirement. Your grandfather was retired. I’m just going to guess you have a hundred and thirty bucks for a new pair of boots,” he said over the top of his beer bottle as he drank the remaining portion in the bottle.

“Well, I hate to pay a hundred thirty if they’re gonna go on sale for a hundred - or maybe ninety. Shit, that’d buy me a lot of turkey sandwiches,” I responded, smiling.

“I’ll have one more Ultra,” Mike said to the waitress as he held his index finger in the air.

“You need anything, Dekk?” he asked, tilting his head back slightly.

“Water, please. Thank you, ma’am,” I responded.

From the perspective of an outsider, Mike looked rather intimidating. He was a little taller than six feet, and weighed two hundred ten pounds. His head was shaved and he had tattoos on his upper arms, back and chest. His body was constructed entirely of muscle. Maintaining a perfect body and having an actual life outside of training is almost impossible. Some fighters have flab or fat on certain places. Mike wasn’t one of those fighters. He trained and he trained hard. It was one reason we had become such close friends. He had my level of desire to maintain a healthy body and mind.

“Water, please. Thank you, ma’am,” Mike joked as the waitress walked away.

“You’re so fucking proper and polite to women - and men - as long as they’re old men. But you clench your jaw and look like a mean prick to everyone else. You crack me up, dude,” he shook his head.

“Well, you look like a mean prick all the time,” I smiled as I picked up the pickle from my plate.

Mike smiled an exaggerated smile, exposing his single gold tooth.

“That tooth is ridiculous. I’ll never understand that,” I said as I slid my plate to the side of the table.

“I told you already,” he responded, still smiling.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s horrid. Who wants to draw attention to the fact that they lost a tooth?” I said as I pulled my hood over my head.

“Well, I have a gold tooth, and you wear a fucking black hoodie everywhere you go. And in hot as hell Austin, Texas of all places. So, tell me more about this girl,” he said as he picked at his teeth with a toothpick.

“There’s nothing more to tell. I think she was a receptionist. I saw her sitting at a desk when I went to pay my insurance on the bike. That was the second time. I know I saw her two years ago at a drug store. This time, she didn’t see me, I noticed her as I walked past her office. I got a bad feeling about the day in the parking lot of the drug store. I remember it specifically now. I’d kind of forgot about it,” I pulled my hood tight around my head and peered through the hole.

“You know you do that, right?” he said as he pointed at my head.

“What?” I asked.

“You hide in your hood. When there’s something you don’t like talking about or doing,” he answered.

I pulled the hood off of my head and ran my fingers through my hair as he started to speak again.

“Well, you quit talking when the waitress brought our food. What didn’t you like? No, start by reminding me what bothered you about the first time you met her? You were talkin’ and stopped, sorry,” he said as he leaned onto the table.

Short of my grandfather, Mike was the best friend I have ever had. He truly cared about me as a person, and wasn’t afraid to admit it. Since my first week here we had become extremely close and almost inseparable.

“She was sitting at a desk. Up the hallway at the building my insurance company is in. It might have been a law office, hell I don’t know,” I responded as I pulled my hood onto my head again.

“Whatever, that’s boring. Tell me about the first time?” he asked as he leaned his forearms onto the edge of the table.

“Here you go. Anything else you two?” the waitress asked as she set the glass of water and the bottle of beer onto the table.

Mike looked up and shook his head, “Thanks.”

He turned back toward me and waited.

“It was right when I got to town. And the guy she was with - I’m guessing her boyfriend - he was a douchebag. More like a dirt bag,” I paused as I grabbed my glass of water.

“I was on the bike,” I chuckled and shook my head as I remembered the evening.

“I was sitting on the bike looking at the soles of my boots. I heard him scream the word slut or whore, I don’t remember. I looked up and he tossed and iPad or something on the ground. He screamed at her a few more times as I started walking over to his truck. Then he stomped the iPad and held it in his hand as he started yelling at her again.”

“Surprised you didn’t whip his ass,” Mike said as he leaned back into his chair.

“Well, you know I struggle with that. If he had been violent toward her or threatening her I would have. They were just arguing. But when they left, she looked at me through the window. And her lips moved,” I looked back up at the ceiling and studied the structure.

“Her lips moved?” he turned his palms up and looked at me surprised.

“Well, she either said help me or hurt me or something. I couldn’t tell,” I shook my head as I pressed my hood tight to my head with the palms of my hands.

“I kind of forgot about it until I went into the insurance company. Now I can’t stop thinking about her. You believe there’s a plan for all of us? You know, everything happens for a reason?” I asked.

“Yeah. I do. Kinda weird about that, but yeah,” he said as he nodded his head slowly.

“I think things happen for a reason. I really do,” I confirmed as I recalled seeing her sitting at the desk.

“What’s she look like?” he asked.

I thought of the day at the drug store parking lot. She looked beautiful, but she was scared. I didn’t like thinking about it. When I recalled the image of her talking on the phone as she sat at the desk, her blonde hair curly and shiny, I smiled. She looked magnificent.

“Perfect,” I responded, still looking up at the lights.

“Oh, I gotcha. Perfect. If she robs a bank, we could give that description to the cops, Dekk. Did you see who robbed the bank? Yes, officer, I got a good look at her. Great. Can you describe her to the sketch artist? Yes, I sure can. She looked perfect, officer,” he laughed as he tipped his beer bottle to his lips.

“Ripp, you’re a prick. She’s probably five foot something. She was in the truck, but looked short. Maybe a hundred pounds. Thin, but she looked athletic. So she’s blonde and gorgeous,” I looked down and focused on Mike’s face as I finished speaking.

“What about him?”

“He was maybe six foot or so. Two twenty. Out of shape, but a big fucker,” I rubbed my hood with my hands.

“Shitty brown hair, curly,” I paused and thought for a second.

“Shitty beard. Shitty attitude. Just a shitty fucker,” I grinned.

“Well, next time you go pay your insurance, if she’s in there talk to her. Ask her about the day at the drug store. Give her a chance to say if she’s even still with that guy,” he responded as he raised his beer and tipped the mouth of the bottle my direction.

“You about ready to get out of here?” he asked as he lowered the empty bottle down onto the table.

I shrugged my shoulders and pushed my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

“To where?” I asked.

“To the mall, Dekkar. I’m gonna help buy my buddy some boots,” he said as he stood up and looked at the bill.

I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached for my wallet.

“I got this,” he said as he waved his hands over the receipt the waitress had placed on the table.

“Times are tough and you need to save up for some boots,” he laughed as he set the empty beer bottle down on top of the money and the receipt.

“Well, at least I don’t ride in those,” I said as I pointed to his shorts and Chuck’s sneakers.

“Hell Shane, ask the waitress. Shit, ask anyone at the mall or on the way. Ask somebody at a fucking stoplight. Which one of us looks out of place? The one in the shorts and Chuck’s or the guy wearing a fucking black hoodie when it’s ninety degrees outside?” he laughed as he stuck his signature toothpick in his mouth.

I shook my head and walked toward the exit.

“I know, they’re your security blankets. Your hoodie and those damned dog tags. Hell, Dekk. If it works, it works,” he said as he slapped my shoulder.

I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached under my hoodie toward my chest.

Still there.

We walked out the door and directly to the bike parking, which was immediately outside the front door.

As I got on my bike, I began to think.

“Dude, you fall asleep?” Mike yelled over the sound of his rumbling exhaust.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re in a fog, Dekk. You alright?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I was thinking,” I responded as I grabbed the handlebars.

“About?” he asked.

“Upgrading the insurance on this bike,” I responded.