The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

“Who am I fighting?”

Tony glances around the room and jerks his chin. “That guy. Three o’clock. He beat Otto once.”

“No shit?” Otto Lawrence won heavyweight this year and is a fan favorite. His strength and speed are intimidating. He’s one of the few who do that to me, but when it comes to boxing, I’ve never hesitated to step into the ring.

I size up my competition on the other side of the room, and he gives a polite nod. His demeanor may be friendly, but his eyes say he’s going to own my ass. My answering nod says, ‘we’ll see.’

“He’s got the speed you lack. After he schools you, he’s going to give you some pointers.”

“Don’t be so sure that’s happening.”

“I like your confidence, but he’s next level. You aren’t quite there yet.”

I glance over to where he sits while getting his fists taped up, as an image of Harper and horse dick pops up, blurring my vision crimson. “Let’s do this.”

“Fuck, I look like Quasimodo,” I say, eyeing myself in the mirror in the bathroom while making my way to Tony.

He throws his head back with a laugh. “That’s what you get for squaring off with a professional.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I wince as he presses on my nose, my words coming out muddled. “I need a painkiller.”

“Yeah, it was,” Tony says, pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen and tossing two in my hand, “you came to New York pretty, but you got jacked.”

My phone buzzes on the bench beside me as Tony tapes up the cut above my eye. “No stitches needed, the nose will go down overnight, and the tooth will reset itself, just don’t touch it. Your eye, though,” he whistles through his teeth, “well tomorrow, you’ll have a face only a mother could love.”

“You didn’t tell me he’s an ex-champ.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Am I ready for this?” I ask honestly.

“Don’t doubt yourself now, asshole. He came at you with everything he knew because you didn’t know of him. That’s insulting. Know your opponent. I told you to start watching other fighters.”

“I played football for fifteen years, I know football.”

“And you’ve been in this ring for years, no more excuses. I know you have a shit ton on your shoulders, but we need to get in the head game. I’m serious, man. We, not just me, have to anticipate strengths and weaknesses. We’ll attend more fights this year.”

“Yeah, because we have the bread,” I roll my good eye.

“We’ll deal with it. You need some sleep. That’s fatigue talking.”

My phone rattles again, and I pick it up to see it’s Mom checking in. I text her back and see a missed text from Harper.

Harper: Why did you run off like that and leave me there? That was a dick move.

“Shit, and it’s just that damned easy for her to make you smile,” Tony says, bagging his supplies. He lingers, and I can tell he wants to say something but thinks better of it. “Ice and heat. And sleep.”

“Got it.”

“See you the day after.”

“Wait, you’re giving me some time off?”

“Get your miles and weights in, but yeah, you’re ready. Have a good Christmas. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“What about you?”

Tony grins. “I’m covered.”