art. He’d had to, to survive the fickleness of the crowd who would turn on him in a second if he dared to show weakness.
Oscar rallied and began dancing around the ring. Steele followed his every move, careful to never let his opponent out of his sight. A few moments of this and the bell rang, signaling that the round was over.
Steele looked into the crowd, searching for his father. What caught his attention first was the strong, steady gaze of a tall, gray-haired man. The man was quieter than those surrounding him, barely moving. His gaze caught Steele’s and held it fast.
Steele looked away, feeling strangely ashamed. Then, unable to resist, he looked back and found the man’s gaze still solid upon him. He looked away again and caught sight of his father, waving around a fistful of cash, drunk on beer and the victory he felt sure was imminent.
Steele realized that the only thing keeping him in this ring was love for his father. Steele was still a child, even if he did have an adult’s body. It was his fondest wish to make his father proud. But he knew, deep in his tortured heart, that his father would never love him in return. He’d long ago accepted that, but Steele still wanted to please him. Why? Even Steele knew his father certainly didn’t deserve his devotion.
Steele clenched his jaw. He’d never been one to think such disloyal thoughts of the man who had sired him. He felt the gaze of the quiet, gray-haired man in the audience and knew that this stranger had something to do with it. He didn’t have to look to know the man still watched him in that strange, quiet way. But he looked anyway.
Why was he doing this? Did he really fear his father’s stick so much? It only hurt because his father wanted it to, bruising Steele’s heart more than his body.
The second round began and Steele stepped into the center of the ring, suddenly resolute in what he was going to do. Oscar danced up to him and threw a wide punch that glanced off Steele’s ear.
Steele took the dive and fell onto the mat with a crash. He stayed down, eyes closed, as the referee counted out the seconds to total knockout. As the man reached the count of ten, Steele opened his eyes a crack and saw the gray-haired man walking toward his father.
The match was over. A new victor had been named. Steele let himself be led off the stage, staggering and wincing for show. His father came up to him, yelling and sputtering in his rage. “Boy, you’d better explain why you threw that match.”
“I didn’t, Dad. He really beat me hard.”
It was more than clear that his father didn’t believe him. “When we get home I’ll show you what a beating truly is.”
Steele felt his stomach clench in fear and dread.
The gray-haired man reached them. “Mr. Steele, may I speak with you?”
“What do you want?” his father growled.
“I want your son.”
Steele’s father started, then laughed. “What, you want him for sex?”
The man never batted an eyelash. “No. I wish to train him for the big ring.”
“Bullshit,” his father spat.
“I want to take him off your hands for good. And I’m prepared to offer you a nice lump sum for the honor.”
His father eyed the man warily. “How much? I wanna know how much you’re offering.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” the man replied flatly.
Steele’s heart sank heavily.
“I’ll take it,” his father said. “The boy is useless to me now anyways.”
“I don’t want to go!” Steele pleaded with his father, already knowing the battle had been lost. Fifty thousand dollars was too good a price to turn down—even Steele knew that.
“Shut up boy,” he said. “You better be glad this man—what’s your name?”
“William Murdock.”
“You’d better thank Mr. Murdock for saving you from the beating you so richly deserve.”
“I can make a comeback,” Steele swore. “Just give me one more chance Dad, please.”
“Whether you can make a comeback or not doesn’t matter to me
Oscar rallied and began dancing around the ring. Steele followed his every move, careful to never let his opponent out of his sight. A few moments of this and the bell rang, signaling that the round was over.
Steele looked into the crowd, searching for his father. What caught his attention first was the strong, steady gaze of a tall, gray-haired man. The man was quieter than those surrounding him, barely moving. His gaze caught Steele’s and held it fast.
Steele looked away, feeling strangely ashamed. Then, unable to resist, he looked back and found the man’s gaze still solid upon him. He looked away again and caught sight of his father, waving around a fistful of cash, drunk on beer and the victory he felt sure was imminent.
Steele realized that the only thing keeping him in this ring was love for his father. Steele was still a child, even if he did have an adult’s body. It was his fondest wish to make his father proud. But he knew, deep in his tortured heart, that his father would never love him in return. He’d long ago accepted that, but Steele still wanted to please him. Why? Even Steele knew his father certainly didn’t deserve his devotion.
Steele clenched his jaw. He’d never been one to think such disloyal thoughts of the man who had sired him. He felt the gaze of the quiet, gray-haired man in the audience and knew that this stranger had something to do with it. He didn’t have to look to know the man still watched him in that strange, quiet way. But he looked anyway.
Why was he doing this? Did he really fear his father’s stick so much? It only hurt because his father wanted it to, bruising Steele’s heart more than his body.
The second round began and Steele stepped into the center of the ring, suddenly resolute in what he was going to do. Oscar danced up to him and threw a wide punch that glanced off Steele’s ear.
Steele took the dive and fell onto the mat with a crash. He stayed down, eyes closed, as the referee counted out the seconds to total knockout. As the man reached the count of ten, Steele opened his eyes a crack and saw the gray-haired man walking toward his father.
The match was over. A new victor had been named. Steele let himself be led off the stage, staggering and wincing for show. His father came up to him, yelling and sputtering in his rage. “Boy, you’d better explain why you threw that match.”
“I didn’t, Dad. He really beat me hard.”
It was more than clear that his father didn’t believe him. “When we get home I’ll show you what a beating truly is.”
Steele felt his stomach clench in fear and dread.
The gray-haired man reached them. “Mr. Steele, may I speak with you?”
“What do you want?” his father growled.
“I want your son.”
Steele’s father started, then laughed. “What, you want him for sex?”
The man never batted an eyelash. “No. I wish to train him for the big ring.”
“Bullshit,” his father spat.
“I want to take him off your hands for good. And I’m prepared to offer you a nice lump sum for the honor.”
His father eyed the man warily. “How much? I wanna know how much you’re offering.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” the man replied flatly.
Steele’s heart sank heavily.
“I’ll take it,” his father said. “The boy is useless to me now anyways.”
“I don’t want to go!” Steele pleaded with his father, already knowing the battle had been lost. Fifty thousand dollars was too good a price to turn down—even Steele knew that.
“Shut up boy,” he said. “You better be glad this man—what’s your name?”
“William Murdock.”
“You’d better thank Mr. Murdock for saving you from the beating you so richly deserve.”
“I can make a comeback,” Steele swore. “Just give me one more chance Dad, please.”
“Whether you can make a comeback or not doesn’t matter to me
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