Page 31 of Stone’s Cage

"Promise me," he repeated quietly.

"I had to go and—"

Now his voice is steely. "Promise. Me."

"I promise," I say, knowing I have to figure out a way to keep it.

Chapter Sixteen

Stone

I sit Coach down in his office, with the door closed. Other guys are

slamming it out in the ring, or on crappy weights and rusted out equipment. As soon as the door closes, he knows something is wrong. Coming clean with Coach is never easy. First, the guy has a face like granite so he's fucking hard to read. Second, he's never impressed with the women I pick up. So when I start talking about Lily, I'm used to his unflinching face, but not the quiet. He usually has a lot to say about everything.

"What are you sayin' there Stony? That she's special?" he finally asks.

"Yes. Yes, she is. Very special."

"And she's not from around here? From the streets?

And now I have to shift from the "who" Lily is to the "why" she is here.

"No. She's not. She's a college kid who dropped out to find out who killed her brother."

"Well that doesn’t sound good."

I shake my head. "He wasn't in a gang. He was caught in crossfire. Remember that college kid?"

Coach stares at me. "Sammy Watson?"

The guy's memory is amazing. "Yeah, that's her brother. She found out from someone that the Hooks did it."

Rubbing his head he looks at the ground. "So that's why she's here," he says more to himself than to me.

As we rise to step outside the office to train, I take a deep breath. There's more, and he is not going to like it. As he tapes me up, I I tell him about the fight.

"You're not throwing the fight," says Coach with such calm faith it annoys me.

"You're not hearing me. I've done it before. And I have to do it. It was the only way to get Lily out of there."

Coach rubs the back and top of his bald head. "Right. Right." He pauses. It’s like he still doesn’t get it though. "What would happen if you didn't throw it? What'da'ya think Shrevey would do?"

Dancing up and down on the balls of my feet and throwing air punches, I think back on a collage of beatings, gang rapes, knives and two bullets way too close. "What the hell do you think he would do?" I swing at Coach. I'm hitting hard and he's suited up with strike pads and holding shields. He says nothing. Forty-five minutes later, sweat is pouring off me. He knows when I need to talk and that training is the best way to get to me, but this time, I didn’t need a warm-up. I jumped right in.

This time, he's the one who needed time to speak. Finally he weighs in.

"Do you know why I call him Shrevey?"

I shake my head and feint to the right, landing a blow to Coaches right arm.

"'Cause he hates it," he grins a half grin. He puts his arms down. "Stop. Stop. Shake your legs out."

Keeping my legs moving I rip off the Combat gloves and start the third water bottle.

"I'm telling you. Don't throw it. Every time you do, it eats you up. You could go legit."

I take out my mouthguard and set it on a towel and tell him the thing I've waited so long to let him know. "I don’t want to go legit."