Page 65 of The Fight for Forever
“He moved out of his apartment a few weeks ago. Crashed on my couch for a couple nights,” one of the fighters Rolo was promoting tells us. “I don’t know where he’s living now, though. He says he’s setting up a big fight for me, and I’ve been training hard.”
“He give you the name of who you’re fighting?” I ask the kid who looks half-terrified after we cornered him.
“Nah, man. No names. You know how Rolo is. He keeps everything close to the vest. Doesn’t want to put the word out until something is solid.”
Fucking kid doesn’t have a clue that Rolo is probably hustling him. Word at the first two gyms was that he hasn’t put together a fight in over six months, and most of the guys there don’t take him seriously anymore.
“Thanks, man. We appreciate the info. You see or hear anything from Rolo, tell him Gabriel Legend’s looking for him. He knows where to find me.”
His head bobs eagerly. “Of course. You want me to call you too?”
“Sure. Give me your phone.” He hands it over, and I type my number in and call myself. “You got my number. You see anything or hear anything, call me.”
“It’s a real honor to meet you, Legend. If you’re really putting fights together at your club, I’d love a shot at getting on a card. I put on a real good show. Knockout power, but I can grapple too. Been wrestling since I was eight.”
I give the kid another look, but with a different eye. He’s shredded. Looks like he could step into the ring at any moment and be ready. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Jeremiah Knowles. I can fight lightweight, welterweight, or middleweight. Whatever you need, man. I always make weight.”
I pull out my phone and tap the missed call on the screen. “I’m saving your number, kid. Keep training. Come to Legend in a few weeks, and we’ll talk.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It was an honor, sir.”
Q snickers as we walk out of the gym. “I’m surprised he didn’t hit his knees and ask if he could suck your dick too.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It was an honor, sir. I’ll swallow, sir,” Q says in a singsong voice, and I punch him in the shoulder. It doesn’t stop his ribbing, though. “Pretty soon you’ll have a whole stable of hopefuls who’ll be begging to call you Daddy.”
“Again, shut the fuck up,” I tell him as we approach the SUV, where Hal is standing by the passenger door at the curb, watching the sidewalk and the gym.
“Actually,” Q says in a normal tone, “what if you did have a bunch of kids like that who wanted to fight under your banner at the club? We could actually make a go of this, for real.”
I raise an eyebrow at him as Hal opens the door to the back seat for me. “You really think that’s a good idea? Sounds like a fuck ton of work to me.”
“I bet there’d be good money in it. They’re all hungry. I bet there are twenty of them dying to ask you the same question that kid did, and we haven’t even hosted a fight yet.”
I hop inside and think about what Q said as he climbs in beside me. Having a roster of young guys who think I can give them their big break wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“Maybe. But, first, we gotta find Rolo and get through this fight. Then we’ll worry about the future.”
“Where to next, Gabe?” Hal asks from the driver’s seat as he shuts the door.
“Rolo’s old girlfriend’s place in Harlem. She’s gotta know something.”
* * *
A half hour later, we roll up in front of a barely half-decent apartment building.
“How about I go up with you this time?” Hal asks, looking at the entrance dubiously. “I don’t want to let you guys get too far out of my sight. Not if Rolo’s running around with pipes and taking out fighters.”
“We can handle ourselves,” Q says, but I’m with Hal on this one. I made a promise to my ladybug that I’d be safe, and I aim to keep it.
“Come on up, Hal.”
Q looks at me with his dark eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.
“What? I promised Scarlett I’d be safe.” He knows I don’t take it lightly.
