Page 12 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

“Have you ever killed anybody? Have you ever served time? Is there a famous parent I should know about? Anything the media can potentially use to make you look bad,” I doubled down.

“Not that I can think of,” she sheepishly answered back.

“So, no major debt by a loan shark? No secret weddings I should know about?”

“No.”

“Because you know it’s okay if you date, but moving forward, most of your draw and interest is going to come from men. To fill those seats, they’re gonna have to believe they have access to you. They don’t, but part of it is the fantasy of you. I wouldn’t beasking you to pretend to be single, but if you have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, an enbyfriend, whatever?—”

“I’m single. Queer, but I’m sure I still convey I’m still attracted to men,” she blushed.

“So, moving forward, you’re either private or you’re not. No half-in-half-out shit. Pick a lane and don’t go back and forth.”

“I can do that,” she nodded.

“You can do that?” I asked, to reiterate. “I don’t think I have to ask you not to speak to the press. Hurry up and get out of here so I can get more time with you later,” not thinking it through before I said that. Was I being professional enough? Would I even be asking that if she were a man?

She left the office, awarding me the time to go over her last four wins, to study why she’d won those when the first four had been failures. Her lack of patience was her weak point. She left herself vulnerable a lot, misused her energy and at times, looked like she was at one hundred percent, something that would absolutely lead to early exhaustion.

She was better off coursing her opponent out, letting them reach their exhaustion point before she could even get to hers. She was decent at redistributing weight, something that had even worked on me, someone with the experience to have saw that coming. But she needed to hone in. When she came in tonight, we were going to go over some basic drills.

In time, Héctor had joined me in the office, as at around this time of day, we answered email inquiries to potential gym memberships, put through orders for replacements if any, and went over whether we could afford more hired help.

“How’s training going?” Héctor asked nonchalantly, like it wasn’t his grand scheme to be fucking nosy as fuck.

“We’re still working on it to see if we’re a good fit. You still got that fighter’s contact when and if she’s ready?” I asked back, composed and collected.

“So, youaretaking her seriously?” he smirked.

“We’re seeing where it’s going.”

Héctor got serious for a moment, not rare for him, but I was both surprised and appalled at what he admitted next. “I probably should have brought this up before. But if you do take the girl on, be prepared for a lot of anti-Blackness, especially if you decide you want to take her first fight to the Midwest. There will be a lot of instances where coded language is thrown around, and I don’t think you’ve experienced it enough to prepare her for that,” he explained.

“You think I ain’t ever had to deal with racist assholes before?”

“Not like a Black woman has to. I admit, I was naïve to the unique challenges I faced in the short amount of time I fought. I thought if I could be better than my opponent, I could escape all that shit. But if anything, it just made them more obsessed with my Black body. And this wasbeforesocial media was huge. Sierra Medina can fight, but I don’t think she quite has the beast in her to deal with that sudden surge of criticism.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m not saying you gotta be softer with her. I’m sayingconsiderthat when you’re being hard on her.”

“Gee, Héctor, I’m surprised you feel that way. I always thought you were ‘I No Black’,” breaking into a laugh, something that I was rearing back so he didn’t think I didn’t take his words seriously. “You know I’m just playing with you. I just like to fuck with you.”

“Yeah, well take this bigfuck you. That’s why men don’t be telling each other shit, because we don’t even take each other seriously.”

“I heard you. I can’t for sure say I’m gonna handle Medina with kid’s gloves, but if you’re telling me that what she’s going to face is somethingIalso have to prepare her for, I’ll take thatseriously. Honestly, even having to fight off the regulars here this morning was uncomfortable. To think she has to go through that everywhere is honestly kinda disturbing,” I admitted.

“There aren’t as many Black female fighters, so just don’t dismiss when she has feelings about her experience is all I’m saying,” Héctor repeated himself.

“¡Ya te oi!?* You already said that, I’ll go easy,” I ribbed. There were just a few hours before my evening session with Medina, but still so much to consider about taking her on.

***

This morning’s lecture must have set Medina straight, because this time, she was on time. Having not built this space in mind that a lot of women would attend, the instant humility that coursed through me at Sierra having to change into her gym clothes in our office made me think a renovation was due.

A year or two ago, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to consider female locker rooms, and I wasn’t going to make the kid share a locker room with a room full of musty men. Until I could fix that issue, this was where we were.

Meeting her at the back of the gym, where the grappling zone was set up, my lip curled in annoyance at the sight and smell of her around the area.