have to. I saw
those guys Jessie was talking about. They may be scary, but they didn’t look
bigtime enough to have contacts in Nowhere, Kansas. Get out of New York and
never look back.”
“Can’t,” Angel
said. “There’s not much else I can do besides what I’m doing now. Strong-arming
for one of the gangs is the only fallback position, and that’s not something
I’m interested in. “Besides,” he added, “you’re not in Kansas.”
“Option two,” I
said quickly, before he could do something crazy like ask me to run away with
him and I could do something even more insane and say ‘yes’. “Swallow your
pride and go along with what they want. I know it’ll suck, and I believe you
when you say it might end your career, but in the short term, doing what they
want is probably a lot safer than not doing what they want.”
“No,” he said, his
voice raw with emotion. “Never.”
I reached out and
put my hand on his. “Good.”
He squeezed my
hand, clearly thankful for the support. I found myself wondering, not for the
first time, how much strength a man like Angel actually received from the
world. It seemed like anyone as strong as him would be constantly asked to lend
himself, and rarely supported.
“What’s the third
option?” he asked.
“Option three is
the harder one.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I bit my lip for a
second, trying to gauge the best way of telling him. I’d just told him to
swallow his pride a second ago, but this was on a whole new level. “Your
footwork is crap, Angel. It’s too the point where you don’t even try to get out
of the way. I know you watched some of my ballet footage on the internet. Well,
surprise surprise, big guy, there’s some of you on there too. Over the years I
can watch your technique deteriorate. It’s like you got used to being hit, like
you learned you could take it and therefore stopped working on the things you
weren’t good at, like your footwork, and concentrated on the things you were awesome at, like throwing punches…”
I let my voice trail off, worried that I’d hurt his feelings.
He just looked at
me, the muscle in his jaw working.
“You know what I
mean?” I asked softly.
“So what’s option
three?”
Fair enough. I
knew I’d have been pretty pissed off if some guy who’d never danced a day in
his life tried to tell me what I was doing wrong in the ballet world, so I
tried to let his anger roll off my back. “Option three is that you get better.
I work with you on your movement, and we forget some of the shit that you’ve
taught yourself. We make you into a fighter that can get out of the way, duck
underneath punches and counter before the guy who’s swinging at you knows where
you went.”
He was quiet, so I
pushed on.
“Boxing is just
ugly dancing, you know. Sure, you’re trying to smash the other guy’s face in
and everything, but if they recognize where and when the punch is going to be
thrown, they can dictate terms. I don’t see that in you; at least not last
night. You waded in and got it, and when you could you attacked. It meant you
got hit a lot, and if the fight wasn’t rigged I think we both know who would
have won…”
“Let me get this
straight,” he said. “You think you, a ballet dancer a third of my weight and a
foot and a half shorter than me, can somehow improve my boxing. Not just
improve it, but make me win against an opponent they’re certainly going to
handpick to defeat me?”
“Yes,” I said
without hesitation, even though I wasn’t so sure about this, when he put it
that way. Still, if I showed worry, I knew he’d give up on himself.
“Okay,” Angel
answered. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Angel
And that was the
start of it.
There we were,
naked. I knew Sloane was right. If I didn’t change my technique, I’d be in
trouble no matter who I got put into the ring with.
It was hardly a
shock. I could tell how hard it was for her to come right out and
those guys Jessie was talking about. They may be scary, but they didn’t look
bigtime enough to have contacts in Nowhere, Kansas. Get out of New York and
never look back.”
“Can’t,” Angel
said. “There’s not much else I can do besides what I’m doing now. Strong-arming
for one of the gangs is the only fallback position, and that’s not something
I’m interested in. “Besides,” he added, “you’re not in Kansas.”
“Option two,” I
said quickly, before he could do something crazy like ask me to run away with
him and I could do something even more insane and say ‘yes’. “Swallow your
pride and go along with what they want. I know it’ll suck, and I believe you
when you say it might end your career, but in the short term, doing what they
want is probably a lot safer than not doing what they want.”
“No,” he said, his
voice raw with emotion. “Never.”
I reached out and
put my hand on his. “Good.”
He squeezed my
hand, clearly thankful for the support. I found myself wondering, not for the
first time, how much strength a man like Angel actually received from the
world. It seemed like anyone as strong as him would be constantly asked to lend
himself, and rarely supported.
“What’s the third
option?” he asked.
“Option three is
the harder one.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I bit my lip for a
second, trying to gauge the best way of telling him. I’d just told him to
swallow his pride a second ago, but this was on a whole new level. “Your
footwork is crap, Angel. It’s too the point where you don’t even try to get out
of the way. I know you watched some of my ballet footage on the internet. Well,
surprise surprise, big guy, there’s some of you on there too. Over the years I
can watch your technique deteriorate. It’s like you got used to being hit, like
you learned you could take it and therefore stopped working on the things you
weren’t good at, like your footwork, and concentrated on the things you were awesome at, like throwing punches…”
I let my voice trail off, worried that I’d hurt his feelings.
He just looked at
me, the muscle in his jaw working.
“You know what I
mean?” I asked softly.
“So what’s option
three?”
Fair enough. I
knew I’d have been pretty pissed off if some guy who’d never danced a day in
his life tried to tell me what I was doing wrong in the ballet world, so I
tried to let his anger roll off my back. “Option three is that you get better.
I work with you on your movement, and we forget some of the shit that you’ve
taught yourself. We make you into a fighter that can get out of the way, duck
underneath punches and counter before the guy who’s swinging at you knows where
you went.”
He was quiet, so I
pushed on.
“Boxing is just
ugly dancing, you know. Sure, you’re trying to smash the other guy’s face in
and everything, but if they recognize where and when the punch is going to be
thrown, they can dictate terms. I don’t see that in you; at least not last
night. You waded in and got it, and when you could you attacked. It meant you
got hit a lot, and if the fight wasn’t rigged I think we both know who would
have won…”
“Let me get this
straight,” he said. “You think you, a ballet dancer a third of my weight and a
foot and a half shorter than me, can somehow improve my boxing. Not just
improve it, but make me win against an opponent they’re certainly going to
handpick to defeat me?”
“Yes,” I said
without hesitation, even though I wasn’t so sure about this, when he put it
that way. Still, if I showed worry, I knew he’d give up on himself.
“Okay,” Angel
answered. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Angel
And that was the
start of it.
There we were,
naked. I knew Sloane was right. If I didn’t change my technique, I’d be in
trouble no matter who I got put into the ring with.
It was hardly a
shock. I could tell how hard it was for her to come right out and
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