The weather is perfect for a ride, so I’m back on my bike and enjoying the cool morning air as I wind my way through the light weekend traffic. Morning came too soon after a long night of tossing and turning. I’m dreading the day I now have ahead of me. I purposely stayed away from any social media while eating breakfast and getting ready to hit the gym. Things will be bad enough once I get there and this ride is just what I need, my calm before the shit storm.

The short amount of peace and solitude I’ve enjoyed comes to a screeching halt the moment I arrive at the gym.

Nick’s sitting on the curb out in front and before I can even shut down the bike he’s up and in my ear. “Jimmy’s on fire bro. He made me stand out here for the last hour, waiting on you. He says I can’t come in and train until I bring you to his office. Hell, I can’t believe you came here. I half figured on you pulling a disappearing act.”

“And why would I be looking to disappear?” As if I don’t know.

“You’re fucking with me, right? I mean, you’ve seen the videos, right?”

“Videos?” He can tell by the look on my face that I have not.

“Oh shit. I can’t believe you came in here without even checking.”

“How bad can it be?” I dismount and take off my helmet, leaving my sunglasses on to hide the bruising above my eye.

“Well, Jimmy’s waiting so come on, let’s get you into his office.” Nick shakes his head and laughs. “You’re such an idiot.” We’re barely through the door when he calls out for all to hear. “Dead man walking.” There are only about a half dozen guys training this morning and they all stop what they’re doing to look in our direction. I stop just inside the door and stare back at the faces glancing my way. Most of them smile. They know what’s coming.

“Get in here - now.” Jimmy shouts from where he’s seated behind the desk in his office. He doesn’t sound happy and I’m not about to make him wait.

Jimmy Collins is a legend. He fought back in the early days of MMA, when the rules were murky and the fighters weren’t as well trained as they are today. Back then someone was always getting injured in an ugly way and broken bones were all too common. They fought tournament style, sometimes three or four fights a night.

Jimmy was one of the first fighters to use a cross-training approach, combining boxing and wrestling with kickboxing and submission style fighting. His record over a nearly fifteen-year career as an active fighter, including three runs as the undisputed middleweight champion, left little doubt about the success of his approach to the fight game.

He retired undefeated in his third title reign after “clearing out the division” and defeating each of the top ten contenders. At that time, he was considered by most to be the best pound for pound fighter in the world and with no legitimate opponents left in his weight class, or on the horizon, Jimmy retired.

As a rule, fighters and trainers are two different animals and it’s not often that a fighter can have a great deal of success as a trainer. Jimmy Collins would be an exception to that rule. He has successfully trained eleven different fighters into champions, in multiple weight classes. These titles were impressive, especially in such a short time, but they were all in local and regional promotions. My bout in three weeks will be his first-time training someone to compete for a title in the biggest fight promotion in the world. This is the big time and he knows it better than anyone else in this building right now.

“What are ya’ doing? Get back to work.” He shouts at everyone, fighters and trainers alike, who have all stopped what they’re doing to catch sight of the show about to take place. The usual noise and activity quickly returns as everyone gets back to work.

“Close that and sit there.” He points at the door and then the metal folding chair in front of his desk. I do as he says and then we both sit in silence, with him staring at me and me staring at the floor for what seems like far too long. The tension in the room is suffocating, but all I can do is wait... and wait.

Just when I think he’s about to explode and tear my head off Jimmy calmly asks, “Are you okay?”

“Umm yeah, I’m okay.” I’m surprised and a little confused.

“Are you injured?” he continues. “How bad is it? Let’s have a look without the glasses.”

I take off my sunglasses and let him see the knot and bruising above my eye. He steps around the desk and comes over to take a closer look. After a lengthy look and some not so gentle prodding, he slaps a knuckle against the knot a little too hard, calls me an ‘Idiot,’ and walks back behind his desk.

“What’s this all about? Are you checkin’ out on me?” Jimmy gets serious again.

“It’s just nerves,” I lie. I have no choice. What am I going to say? I’m all fucked up in the head because your daughter is back and I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t think so.

Jimmy doesn’t want me anywhere near Reagan; a point he made very clear to me four years ago. While he may be retired from actively fighting he’s still an extremely dangerous man and I’m not about to let him know just how much I’m thinking about his daughter – that I’ve never really stopped.

“Look, I get it - it’s unsettling. But, you’re right there Noah - three weeks out from the biggest fight of your life. You’ve gotta’ keep your head in the game, here. This is a life changing moment you’re prepping for and there’s no room for any bullshit.”

“I should’ve walked out, Jimmy. I know that.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t thinking and it won’t happen again.” I’m still confused by how well he’s handling it, but I need to make sure he knows I’m serious.

“It better not, Noah. There are too many people happy to make a buck off watching somebody fuck up. Especially, someone with a chance to make it big.” He’s right. “Now forget about the videos and all the other bullshit, time will take care of that crap. Soon enough they’ll find some other jackass doing some other jackass shit and they’ll leave us alone. The only thing that matters is your training and the fight, right?”

I nod my head. “Definitely. I didn’t even check for video today, anyway.”

“Really?” Now he looks surprised. “Well don’t bother, it’ll only distract you. And, as far as anyone outside this gym is concerned we have no comment about the entire incident, understood?”

“Understood.”

Reagan unexpectedly walks through the office door. “Where’s the fire?” she asks, throwing her palms up. She looks amazing to me, but then again, when doesn’t she?

“Where in the Hell have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.” Now, Jimmy looks upset.

“Dad, it’s still morning so why don’t you relax and tell me what’s going on.” She crosses her arms over her chest. She has no problem speaking up to her father.

“What’s going on?” He raises his voice, pointing his index finger at me. “What’s going on is this moron got himself on the radar of every sportscaster on the goddamn planet. And not in a good way. We’ve had twenty-nine calls already and I’m sure there will be more.” His voice reflects the anger he’s feeling.

“Ok, so I’ll handle it from here on out and you don’t have to worry.” She shrugs her shoulders, reassuring him.

“Good. Do me a favor. Go watch the damn video and catch up with what’s being said. Then, we can figure out a plan to navigate this mess.”

She nods and breezes out of the room as quick as she came in without a single glance in my direction.

Jimmy turns his attention back to me. “And you, get your sorry ass out there and show me how serious you are,” he barks.

I don’t need to be told twice.