Page 51 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

Having some time to debate it, the next time my phone rang and it was Vega’s number on the screen, I answered, just to see what he was selling.

“Sierra Medina, it's good that I could finally catch you. I've been calling you nonstop.”

“Here's the thing, I'm kind of in between trainers right now, and I wanted to wait until I had someone who could negotiate a better deal than I could. I want to do it. I just don't want to get screwed over.” On the other end, he took a deep sigh.

“I’ll level with you. The real draw is between me and Mendez. We have a history and now folks want to see another standoff with us. As far as he’s concerned, that’ll never happen. But the people under our wings? They’ll settle for that. It can still be a decent payout for you. I don't do this for just anyone, but I'd even offer a participation fee. Win or lose, under the table.”

“How much?”

“I can do twenty grand.” Twenty thousand dollars. It wouldn’t have been a lot of money to many, but twenty grand could guarantee a few months’ rent. It was too much guaranteed money to walk away from.

“Can I… can I have a more time to think about it?”

“Sure, but you better think fast. This offer isn't going to last long. You got until Friday to get back to me. After that, I'll be moving on.”

Deep breaths. I had less than a week to decide. That meant I had less than a week to find a new coach. Maybe if I explained the fight proposal with DaCosta, gyms would be more likely to take me on without having to sell myself.

That kind of money seemed small, but it was guaranteed without Josue’s help. Without Josue’s help, I was doubting if I could even fight this girl. He was the reason I’d gotten this far. At least, if I lost, that money could help me get Mónica back. I didn't know what to do. But I had less than a week to decide.

Taking a shower, I traded my gym clothes for a bonnet and sleep shirt, readying myself for bed until a loud knock came at my motel door. Looking in the bathroom to ensure nothing was leaking, I tiptoed to the peephole, just in case I chose to pretend to ignore it. I took a step back, taking a deep breath. Here I was thinking Héctor was just being nice.

That payaso?* told Josue where I was staying. Fuck himandhis Dominicanass. Re-approaching the door, I turned the deadbolt, Josue on the other side of it, looking more sympathetic than usual.

“Hey, can we talk?”

* Clown

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Josue

“I'd offer you something, but the amenities aren't as plentiful as a luxury duplex,” Sierra stepped aside, inviting me in. Casing the place, she could have done better, but it was smart that she was saving her money. A lot of fighters spent it like they had their next job lined up. “So, why are you here?”

“Sierra, Are you serious? You wanna know why I'm fucking here—because I'm your fuckingtrainer, that's why,” he argued, as I lowered my bottom to the arm of a cheap couch in the room. “And making me have to go out and look for you works my last damn nerve.”

“Josue, given our last conversation, I wasn't sure you evenwantedto train me.”

“Why, because I was fucking mad?” I fumed.

“The impression you gave me, was that all your reservations about training women had come true. I'm a woman, I can predict a sinking ship when I see it.”

“Well, since you got that women's intuition, how come you weren’t upfront with me about having a kid?”

“Because it was none of your business.”

“It's none of my business, but if you hadmadeit my fucking business, I could have controlled your narrative. What did I say?No fucking secrets?—”

“Josue, I lost my kid. I needed money and work, and all these things I didn't have. I figured if anyone would have understood that, it would be you. Someone who grew up like me. Someone who had to fight for literally everything, only amplified by three, because I'm also Black, a woman, and I'm a single mom.”

“Sierra, you don't think I know it's fucking harder for you? I negotiate your deals, I know it's fucking harder. BecauseI'mthe one who got to deal with the assholes trying to lowball your pay, set you up with fights that are beneath you, or deal with the slimeballs trying to negotiate chances to fuck you—I know!

This is why Iaskedyou not to lie to me. Because when you lie, I can't protect you from the things that happen afterwards. Controlling the narrative means having the first say. Now your story is in the mouths of other people, and no one should ever be able to tell your story but you.”

“What was I supposed to say? That I'm a struggling mom who lost custody of her daughter?”

“I don't know, but it's better than what they’re saying about you now. I could have spun this to your advantage. So yes, in that moment when I'm finding out aftereveryoneelse that you've got a kid, the things I said inthatmoment, I had a right to be mad at you. If you want me to say I could have handled it better, I'll say that, but next time don't fucking lie to me.”

“Would you have agreed to train me from the start if you knew I had baggage?”