Princeton
“Man, why you movin’ so slow today? You got cement in your damn gloves or what?”
It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours since my last bout and my pops was already in my ass about training. He claimed it was the rigorous - albeit, illegal by boxing regulations - schedule that got me to this point in my career which meant that same schedule was also what was going to keep me there. But I had a hard time believing that shit as I worked to catch my breath in between sets of punches on the speed bag while he continued to rant in my ear.
“Your next opponent don’t give a fuck about a few nights ago. That mothafucka isn’t takin’ no damn breaks. And you say you wanna be the best? Shittttt, I can’t tell!”
Since I couldn’t argue back without sounding like a bitch, I hopped up from my resting spot on the stool to go at the bag again, imagining it to be the mystery opponent my father would always use as motivation until a real one was named. But honestly, it didn’t matter who the real one was. My training didn’t change from person to person and neither did my will to do whatever it took to be the best whether my pops believed it or not.
It seemed as if he never would believe me.
I channeled his doubt into my last round on the speed bag, my hits landing even more fiercely than before as Pops groaned, “About time your ass showed up,” just as I was delivering a final blow. But once I bent over to catch my breath, the bag still swinging above my head, he said, “Gotdamnit, boy. All this training we do and you still ain’t in shape? What you gonna do in round twelve, huh? Where you gonna get your wind from if you can’t find it in here?”
I was too exhausted to answer, so instead I just shook my head as he tossed a towel towards my face on his way out, not even bothering to say goodbye. But even if he was going to be rude about it, I was glad to see him go since his exit meant I was done for the day.
Well… done for now.
It wasn’t out of the norm for Sir Kingfield “The King” Lattimore to hit me up in the middle of the night for training with claims that I was being outworked by someone else. But I hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days, especially considering he had just kicked my ass for four hours straight. I also hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days because I had plans to make that included the woman of my most recent dreams.
Bella Stevenson.
When she walked into my dressing room after the fight, she was easy to spot because she seemed completely out of place; her casualwear of jeans and a blouse standing out like a sore thumb amongst the gaudy jewelry, furs, and other fight ensembles. But it seemed as if the simplicity of her look only enhanced her natural beauty, soft mocha skin with a glowing smile as she tried to fight the obvious nerves of introducing herself to me.
Still, she managed to keep it G, shaking it off to serve me complete professionalism, though her presence wasn’t nearly as annoying as the handful of reporters who had come before her. Or maybe her attractiveness made me biased. Either way, there wasn’t a single moment of our conversation that felt invasive, more like I was chopping it up with a familiar friend who saw well beyond the surface of the champion boxer who had just added another victory to his record.
She saw me.
And that was only further proven by the article she wrote, the article that I had read through more times than reasonable trying to understand how she was able to pull so much from our simple interaction.
The flowers I had sent to her office were small scale compared to the type of appreciation I was really interested in showing her. But for now, I figured I’d start off light by inviting her to dinner, knowing the last thing I wanted to do was scare her off before I got a chance to get to know her. So after getting rid of my gloves and drying the sweat I had worked up, I snagged my phone from my duffle bag, scrolling through my contacts to find her information that I saved immediately after she gave it to me just in case I ruined her card even more than she already had.
It only took a few rings for her to pick up, her voice laced with a peppy yet professional undertone as she said, “Bella Stevenson speaking.”
“Yo, that article was dope. But I don’t know how I feel about you softening me up like that,” I teased, thinking back to the mentions of my “super sweet” interactions with my pint-sized fans. Truth be told, talking to and taking pictures with the kids were a highlight for me, the only time I was really able to let my tough guy guard down in public.
But since my father claimed that persona was an integral part of my career, I kept up the act, though I was reminded that Bella didn’t exactly see me that way when she replied, “I only write the truth, Princeton. It’s called journalistic integrity. And thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome,” I told her, peeking around the empty gym as I suddenly felt… nervous.
Fuck am I nervous for?
Sure, I didn’t do a ton of actual dating, just a quick fuck here and there to keep me active which was made easy by the women who prided themselves on being my company. And my career kept me far too busy for the women my father put in the category of distractions anyway. But it definitely wasn’t my first time asking a woman out which meant it didn’t make any sense for me to feel so hesitant. And just when I was getting ready to push past that block, Bella asked, “Princeton? You still there?” Making me feel even more ridiculous.
I shook my head as I rushed out, “Yeah, yeah. My bad. I was just thinking we should uh… do dinner or somethin’. Me and you.”
The laugh she let out in response almost had me releasing one of my own until she asked, “Me and you? You’re joking, right?”
“Not at all. I wanna take you out, Bella Stevenson. Can I do that?” I asked, making myself as clear as possible while also trying not to be offended by her taking me for a joke.
But her regretful sigh alone had my fist flexing when she answered, “Uh… look. I’m flattered to say the least, but I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”
“What?” I snapped, groaning out a sigh of my own before lowering my voice to ask, “I mean, why not?”
The last thing I wanted to do was intimidate her, even over the phone. But she didn’t seem at all influenced by my reaction when she explained, “Well… no offense, but I’ve seen how you operate and that’s not exactly something I’m interested in. And besides, I’m kinda… seeing someone right now.”
“The way I operate? What’s that supposed to mean?” I thought to myself while processing the other half of her excuse to respond, “I don’t know about your dude, but I know I’d hate to hear my woman say she’s only kinda seeing me.”
“It’s just... early. Really early,” she replied in a way that only made me want to press more.
“So early yet so real that you’re turning me down? Yeah aight, Bella. I hear you. Must be a very special guy,” I said with enough sarcasm that probably made me sound immature.
But I was surprised to hear her release another one of those sighs before she rushed out, “I’d like to think so. But I don’t know. I mean, it’s new. So we’ll see.”
Whether she meant to say it out loud or not, her back and forth was enough for me to try her one more time. “So... lunch then? Since you’re suddenly unsure about him?”
Fuck.
Another sigh.
This time it was paired with a direct, “Can’t. I’m on deadline. Got a multi-part article about that whole solar eclipse phenomenon due in less than twenty hours.”
While she may have been using work as yet another excuse for turning me down, it only gave me an idea of how I could get her to come see me. And I actually felt hopeful by the time I replied, “Ahh so that’s how I can get your attention. Through an assignment?”
I imagined her holding the phone a little closer to her ear when she said, “Depends on what kind of assignment you’re talking about.”
Her interest alone had me excited until I realized I really didn’t have an answer to her indirect question, wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot about it. And even though I knew I’d be catching an ear full about it from my father later, I offered, “How about an exclusive? I mean, you done already read right through my ass, so I trust you to get it right in long form too.”
“You’re serious?” she asked, all of that let-him-down-easy energy replaced by genuine excitement.
With that, I couldn’t help but smile when I answered, “So serious. Come through the gym Friday afternoon. Can you do that?”
I could hear her pen scribbling down my instructions as she said, “I can definitely do that. Say 1’o clock?”
“I’ll be here. Sweaty and all,” I replied, reminding her of what she was getting herself into even if I wasn’t giving her an opportunity to back out.
But it was clear Bella Stevenson was full of surprises when she said, “Strangely enough, I’m looking forward to that part the most. See you Friday, Princeton.”
&
“Damn, P. You really hittin’ today,” the assistant trainer, Tony, announced as he held the punching bag steady while I delivered a combination of punches that would’ve completely destroyed my opponent’s core if it were real. And even though my intensity might’ve been surprising to him, I knew my good ass mood warranted a newfound strength, a newfound energy, as it got closer to the time Bella was supposed to come through the gym for an exclusive interview which was really just a disguise for me to get to know her better since I had already committed her looks to memory.
Her pretty ass skin, pretty ass face in general, with just enough titties and ass to tell she was a woman from far away. But there was a tone to her body - a strength - I found incredibly attractive. And that paired with what seemed to be a chill demeanor was more than plenty to intrigue me.
As if I had thought her up, I watched Tony give a nod towards the entrance as he said, “You got company, P.”
I knocked the sweat from my eyes before peeking over my shoulder to find Bella as she made her way into gym, looking completely in awe as she ran her fingertips against the canvas of the boxing ring. And once she rounded the side closest to us, I saw she was wearing a cropped shirt that made her boobs look a size bigger than I remembered and jeans that fit snug against her hips.
“Damn. My memory must be a lil’ shaky,” I thought to myself as I dropped my stance to go meet her by the ring. And once she saw me approaching, she gave the smile I remembered from fight night when she asked, “So this is the Prince’s Lair, huh?”
“Really, Bella? You’re that corny?” I asked with a chuckle as I caught the towel Tony tossed my way before he offered Bella a nod.
She gave him a polite one in return before turning back to me to answer, “As corny as they come, and you will deal.”
I couldn’t help but smile as Tony made quick work of helping me out of my gloves and then my hand wraps while I asked Bella, “How you comin’ into my gym demanding shit though?”
She peeked up to meet my eyes, giving a smirk when she answered, “Because I’m pretty confident you won’t knock me out, unlike anybody else who might try you.”
“You’re right. Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty face of yours,” I replied with a wink, a response that came without thinking twice.
But maybe I should’ve thought twice once I saw Bella’s face scrunch as she repeated, “My pretty face? How about, “I don’t hit women” or even, “I don’t want an assault charge”?”
Tony only laughed, shaking his head as I quickly explained, “Damn, Bella. That too. Your pretty face was just the first thing to come to mind.”
I was grateful when her expression went back to pleasant and relaxed, though she still teased me with a quiet, “Mmhmm,” just as Tony tapped me on the shoulder to let me know I was good to go before excusing himself. And as he made his way out towards the offices, I led Bella and I over to the stools I usually sat on to eat lunch - not the most comfortable spot, but a seat nonetheless - so that we could begin the interview.
Bella held her phone in the air to let me know she was recording before tossing it onto the seat next to her as if it being out of my view made it any less invasive. But I rolled with it, grabbing the lunch package my nutritionist had left for me as she wasted no time digging in with questions.
“So, Princeton. If you had to pick one word to describe yourself, what would it be?”
Without skipping a beat, I answered, “Champion.” Grabbing the container of powdered-protein and pouring it into my bottle of water before giving it a shake to mix it together.
Bella watched intently as she waited for me to finish, surely not wanting to ruin any audio soundbites with the loud swooshing of the water. But once I took a quick sip to make sure it tasted alright, she pressed, “Champion? Explain.”
“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of describing myself in one word?”
She smacked her teeth, the slightly annoyed smirk she wore enough to let me know I was already getting on her nerves as she snapped, “Hey. I’m the one asking the questions here.”
“There you go being bossy again,” I muttered teasingly before taking another sip of my drink, catching the smile she tried to hide in response as she watched me swallow.
“Just answer the question, please.”
Pursing my lips together, I tried to pick my words carefully since I knew millions of people would be reading each one of them later. And after taking another good sip of my shake, I explained, “Being a champion, being on top, it’s all I’ve ever strived for. It was ingrained in me from day one, got it tatted on me the second I was old enough to consent. It’s who I’ve lived my whole adult life as, and God-willing, the only thing I’ll ever have to experience.”
Even though she was recording, Bella also had a pad she was scribbling little notes on. Little notes that had her bobbing along with what I had said before following up with, “You say you’ve lived your whole adult life as a champion, but you’ve been fighting since you were, what? Twelve-years-old? Has “The Prince” not always been the champion we all know and love today?”
“Oh, so you love me now? You move quick, Bella. No complaints though. Love you too,” I replied with a wink that made her blush and groan with annoyance all at once.
But I knew she meant business when she snapped her eyes up at me to say, “Princeton… don’t play with me.”
I nodded in understanding, grabbing my Tupperware-meal as I finally answered, “Aight so, I took some Ls. Not many, but enough to keep me humble during my Golden Gloves days. Long before I went pro.”
The memories of those days weren’t the fondest, weren’t my favorite to talk about, since any loss I took back then meant a brutal punishment from my father; far more brutal than the shit he put me through on a daily. It honestly seemed like he enjoyed seeing me lose just so he could torture me, though he always claimed it was for my own good, that it would make me better. And while I couldn’t deny that period of my life turning me into my strongest self, I knew it was for all the wrong reasons.
Thankfully Bella changed the subject just when my dark feelings about it all were beginning to surface, nodding towards my container to ask, “What’s that you’re eating?”
“Let’s see,” I said, pulling off the lid and picking around the meal with my fork before listing, “Wheat pasta with tomato sauce, two plain ass chicken breasts sliced, yogurt with honey and granola. And a... cherry-flavored energy gel for dessert.”
While she didn’t exactly seem interested in taste-testing any of what my nutritionist referred to as “fuel” instead of food, it was clear she was at least interested enough in its existence to ask, “Is this a typical meal for you? Or would you consider it, more of a treat?”
“Nah, I prefer to get my treats in a different form,” I answered smoothly, Bella’s eyes shooting up at me once again. But this time, I only shrugged, shoving a bite of food into my mouth as I watched her blush before proceeding to the next question.
“Describe a typical day for you. When you’re not preparing for a big fight.”
Through the last of my chews I listed, “I’m up at 5 A.M. sharp every day. Go for a brisk five mile run, have a light breakfast. Then I get here, to the gym, for some hand and footwork drills. I have a little snack to keep my energy up, get on the bag for punching drills with Tony, have lunch and chat with pretty girls named Bella…”
I could barely get my compliment off before she was jumping in to correct, “That’s not a typical day. Unless you’re always talking to pretty girls named Bella over lunch…”
Shrugging, I told her, “Maybe I do.” Earning myself a smirk as I continued, “But anyway, after that, I’ll do some core and strength training. Then I’ll finish out the day with a burnout session on the bag with my pops before I have dinner and do my recovery treatments. Cold tub, massages, shit like that.”
She nodded along, jotting down a few notes and glancing over them as if she was looking for her next question. “I read that your father was a champion in his own right back in the day. Are you two pretty close?”
“You could say that,” I replied shortly, secretly hoping she wouldn’t press since the relationship between my father and I was much too complicated to explain to anyone.
But of course it wasn’t in Bella’s nature to back down from any opening, her expression softened when she asked, “Is he the one who inspired you to be a boxer?”
Again, I shrugged. “Nah, he really didn’t give me much of a choice. Some may say he was even training me to be a fighter when I was in the womb.”
The words slipped from my lips so easily that I almost forgot all of this was on the record until Bella challenged, “What do you mean?”
“Nothin’. You can cut that part out,” I quickly replied, stuffing my face with more food so I wouldn’t have to say anymore on the topic.
Truth be told, I probably couldn’t say anymore on the topic without opening an investigation on my father. But that didn’t mean Bella was going to let me off easy, pushing out, “O… kay. So tell me more about your childhood then. I imagine it being tough growing up in the shadow of such a prominent figure like “The King”.”
“Being in his shadow was much better than being in his path,” I replied as I took another bite, peeking up to find Bella’s eyes tightened in a way that had me going back over my words.
Shit.
Said too much again.
Instead of letting her probe, I did my best to cover things up when I continued, “His uh… challengers. You know, he was on top of his game for a while. And I’d much rather come up behind him than be on the receiving end of one of his KOs.” I even added a little chuckle in hopes of lightening the mood.
It didn’t work, Bella scooting to the edge of her stool and completely invading my personal space to ask, “Were you... ever on the receiving end of one of his knockouts?”
The question made me tense up for reasons I couldn’t speak. I mean, of course my father had beat my ass before. Left me bruised up, knocked the wind out of me, maybe even dazed me a little.
But a real knockout?
Immediately, I shook my head, unable to meet her eyes when I answered, “N-nah. Never. Not me.”
“Just the challengers?” she asked, her eyebrow piqued as if her journalistic senses were tingling.
Still, I did my best to play it down, offering a short, “Correct.”
I expected that to be enough for her to fall back into her seat. But she remained close as if she was waiting for me to crack, even going as far as asking, “Did you… know any of his challengers personally?”
“Aight Bella, I think that’s enough,” I told her, putting my food to the side now that I had officially lost my appetite thinking about shit I hadn’t revisited since I was a kid; long before I was crowned “The Prince”. And I wasn’t sure I could revisit it without wanting to deliver the same blows to my father that he had delivered to… her, the blows that made her run away from him and abandon me.
“I’m sorry. I was just asking. It’s kinda my thing, but I see I went too far,” Bella said, snapping me from my developing rage as she rubbed a gentle hand against my shoulder.
I wasn’t sure if she felt it, but there was a sedative factor to her touch, instantly calming me enough to reply, “You did.”
Her regret seemed genuine as she continued, “My apologies, Princeton. Seriously. And I promise none of this will be included in the write-up. No one will even hear this recording but me.”
I gave her a short nod of appreciation as she fell back into her seat, releasing a heavy breath before making an attempt at saving the interview. “So… what do you like to do for fun? In the little bit of spare time you have outside of the gym?”
Since she seemed to be back in professional mode, I did the same, giving an answer that would probably make my father proud. “If I’m not at the gym training, then I’m at home thinking about training, thinking about my next opponent, thinking about what I need to do to be the best, or getting the rest that I need to execute it all. Being a champion is a full-time job, and if I ever for a second think that it’s not, I can guarantee that’ll be the same time my belt will get snuck from up under me.”
“So you operate out of fear of losing your belt? Losing your champion status?” she asked, a question that was more personal than she realized according to the plain expression on her face as she waited for an answer.
Then again, this could’ve just been journalist Bella in action, meaning I needed to remain as “The Prince” when I answered, “I guess you could say that. And it probably sounds fucked up, but… that’s also why not everyone can be a champion. Not everyone has what it takes to make that kind of sacrifice, to operate out of fear as you called it.”
She nodded with understanding, scribbling on her pad before asking yet another heavy question. “Do you ever worry about having… identity issues? When it’s all said and done? I mean, it sounds like boxing has meant so much to you for so long that if it were to be taken away at any moment, it might… destroy you.”
What was supposed to be a simple interview was feeling more and more like a counseling session, my chest feeling heavy as hell when I pushed out, “Honestly, I’d rather not even think about it.”
“Okay. Well if you weren’t a boxer, what kind of profession do you think you might have?” she asked, the first softball question she had tossed my way even though nothing about talking with Bella felt easy anymore.
I couldn’t be charming with thoughts of my mother on my mind, couldn’t be funny with flashes of my childhood playing in my head, couldn’t flirt knowing a real relationship was never in the cards for me because of the dedication I had to my craft; an undying loyalty to boxing that it probably didn’t deserve considering the mayhem it had caused in my personal life.
So instead of continuing to entertain this exchange, I only shrugged when I answered, “I have no idea.”
“Aww come on, Princeton. Give it a shot,” she insisted, the warm, pleading expression in her eyes enough to at least make me give a little effort. But just because I was giving effort didn’t mean a response would come easy since it wasn’t something I had ever thought about before. And I was just about ready to give up again when Bella said, “You can do it. I believe in you.”
My eyebrow piqued at her words as she nodded enthusiastically like she was cheering me on, a huge smile on her face as if she was really interested in whatever was going to come out of my mouth. And truth be told, I surprised myself when something finally came to mind.
“I mean, I guess I used to like baking with my mom when I was little. Maybe I’d do that,” I said, a smile growing on my lips as one of the few memories I had with my mother rushed to the forefront of my thoughts.
I could still remember the smell of the snickerdoodle cookies she used to sneak into my lunches, could still remember the sweetness of the turtle brownie batter I took pride in mixing and licking. And the bliss of those thoughts was only extended when Bella excitedly asked, “A professional boxer turned baker? Let me know when I can write that story. I make a great taste tester too.”
“I’m sure you do, Bella. I’m sure you do,” I replied, my smile full as I thought about something else I wanted her to taste.
Just as I was getting turned on by the visual of Bella on her knees in front of me, Tony emerged from the offices, giving me a pat on the shoulder as he said, “Aight, Prince. Gotta get back to work before your father comes in here talkin’ shit.”
Instead of agreeing right away, I made Bella a priority, turning towards her to ask, “You got what you need, B?”
She nodded, her voice peppy and pleasant as she answered, “I do, thank you. But do you mind if I… stay and watch for a little while? It’ll help me paint a better picture for the readers.”
I could see that warm, pleading look in her eyes again, and I honestly wasn’t sure I could turn down her cute ass if I wanted to. But since I knew my father wouldn’t be here until later, I figured I didn’t have to, matching her smile to say, “Be my guest.”