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17

  "Is it official?" Barney’s next to him in the restaurant again. "You’re quiet sometimes, but today you’re quieter than ever, little boxer."

  "We signed at noon. You won’t believe who was there. Who was representing Rory."

  "Probably his dad."

  "Spot on. The one and only Sonny Flint."

  "Between us, he was a lousy cook. But look at that—luck smiled on him. He’s got a champion kid who’ll probably retire him."

  "Come on, Barney. Sonny was good with desserts. Is his kid really that good?"

  Barney stops carving, and even without looking back, Eddie knows he asked a dumb question.

  "You haven’t watched Rory? Is that what you’re telling me?"

  "I’ve got a kid, Barney. And a wife. Plus, I work. I don’t even watch the big boxing matches, let alone some kid’s."

  "If everyone thought like you, there wouldn’t be champions like Dax Reid or…"

  "Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re gonna say, but it’s not my job to keep up with them."

  "Even you." Barney cuts in. "You’re popular in Brantley too. Doesn’t matter that you lost so much. If everyone in this little town used their kids as an excuse…"

  "Rory’s young. He’ll manage without my help."

  "But seriously, you haven’t watched him fight? The kid’s fast as hell. You don’t stand a chance, old man. But that’s your business, not mine. You’re the one fighting him, not me."

  "What are you two talking about?" Beatrice has popped in again, resting her chin on her hands propped up on the counter that separates them.

  "Don’t you have customers to deal with?" Barney snaps at her right away.

  "That didn’t sound right." She pretends to be offended.

  "Aren’t you studying to be an actress? It’s practically the same thing."

  Beatrice reaches to swat him but misses. Barney laughs.

  "How you holding up, Eddie?" She turns to him.

  "Eddie signed today. For the fight." Barney answers for him.

  "Oh!" Beatrice reaches over and nudges Eddie’s shoulder. "You happy?"

  It’s a good question, one Eddie doesn’t have an answer for. Is he happy? About the fight, yeah, he’s happy. But when he thinks of Maisie, all that happiness vanishes. And it’s not even happiness, really—more like adrenaline and nerves. But that adrenaline and those nerves are what bring the biggest joy in sports.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "What kind of question is that?" Barney beats him to the punch again. "Are you happy?" He mimics her. "Of course he’s happy. Anyone would rather step into the ring with the local boxing champ than be stuck in a kitchen." Barney says that last bit while glancing around to make sure no one’s listening.

  "Don’t make it such a big deal, Barney." Eddie finally chimes in. "It’s just a fight."

  "What about your job?" Beatrice seems to just now catch on. "You’re not quitting, right?"

  Barney doesn’t answer for him this time, leaving it to Eddie.

  "Today’s my last day." Eddie finally meets her big brown eyes. "Starting tomorrow, I’m at the gym."

  "Oh!" She gasps softly. "And you’ll come back?"

  "After Rory beats him up, he’ll be back." Barney laughs. "I’ve already got ice ready for him. Just waiting for it to freeze—he’s gonna need it."

  "I’ve been texting with Rory a bit." Beatrice admits out of nowhere. "He said he can’t wait, but he wasn’t talking about you, Eddie. More about the agents who’ll be watching him. He figures with five wins in five fights, he can try moving beyond Brantley. He wants nationals, then the world stage after that."

  "Honestly, if he gets close to ten wins, they’ll notice him fast. Then a bunch of hungry sharks show up out of nowhere, chasing those zeros in his loss column," Barney says, sounding almost like Rex.

  "What about you, Eddie?" Beatrice keeps prying, like she’s got nothing better to do. "Why didn’t you become a boxer? I mean, why didn’t you keep going?"

  "Have you seen his stats?" Barney laughs. "He’s got one win in twenty-two fights."

  "There are strong boxers, and there are weak ones." Eddie’s never seen his record as something to be ashamed of. "After my fourth or fifth fight, I realized winning wasn’t my thing."

  Her surprised look is enough to keep him talking.

  "I just figured out I wasn’t going to be a great champion, but I wasn’t that bad either. So I switched strategies."

  That was true, to an extent. But only partly. Rex had changed his strategy, helping him with money by picking opponents he’d lose to. Not on purpose, but ones he was way weaker than.

  "They mostly use him for sparring." Barney adds, talking to Beatrice. "They call him in to lose a fight."

  "Isn’t that illegal? Losing on purpose?" Beatrice isn’t as clueless as she acts.

  "It is." Barney takes over again—Eddie’s used to it. "But guys like Eddie, even giving their all, go up against opponents they’ve got almost no chance of beating."

  "Shame." Beatrice glances at Eddie. "I so wanted to see Rory Flint’s face smashed in."

  "Rory Flint’s smashed face." Barney mimics her again.

  "They must’ve had something in school, since she wants him beat up." Eddie finally cracks a smile and nudges Barney.

  "He was so full of himself. Probably still is. And once he started winning, you couldn’t even talk to him."

  "So you’re still close?"

  "With Rory?" She pushes off the counter. "No. Well, we’ve hung out in groups, but he’s the star there. I’m just…"

  Barney raises a hand to say what she is, but Beatrice cuts him off:

  "Shut it, blondie."

  "Who’s talking…" Barney laughs.

  Someone calls Beatrice’s name from the restaurant. She glances over, then looks back at Eddie.

  "Anyway, Eddie. I’ll still cheer for you."

  Beatrice hurries out of the kitchen, and Barney nudges Eddie again, pointing at her with his eyes.

  Eddie raises a hand to signal he’s lost his mind.

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