"Eddie? Eddie Walsh?"

  The man at the gym entrance looks surprised. As if it’s not Eddie with one win and twenty-two losses standing there, but the world champion Gary Maltz.

  Eddie stops and waves. He doesn’t remember the guy, though he’s sure they’ve talked before. He’s good with faces but bad with names. And now he doesn’t even recall this face. It’s dirty and swarthy, with a stubbly beard. Definitely over forty, though he could be younger—life’s just aged him hard.

  "Good afternoon." It’s the best he can come up with for a greeting. "I’ve got a meeting with Rex."

  "Rex isn’t here, but Ballard is. He’ll definitely want to see you."

  The guy at the door knows too much about him and Ballard. Eddie feels awkward not knowing why. He’s probably been here before when Eddie used to come more often. But Eddie could swear this is the first time he’s seeing him.

  "Who else is inside…" He glances at the guy’s badge. "Eddie?" The man’s got his name. At least that’s easy to remember.

  "Ernest came by earlier. Might’ve left already. Ballard’s here and… I don’t think anyone else yet. You sure Rex knows you’re coming?"

  "Rex invited me."

  "Then come in. I won’t charge you entry. You’re a gym legend, man. Rex’ll kill me if he finds out I took your money."

  Eddie wasn’t expecting to pay anyway. He tightens his fist around the handle of his small duffel bag and steps inside.

  The gym is just as he remembers it from way back. A ceiling and walls left over from the last century. And a smell to match. Old photos and medals of famous athletes who came up here hang on the worn walls. Down the hallway are doors on both sides. One’s for the locker rooms, the second he knows is Rex’s office, and the third leads to the training gym itself.

  Eddie skips the locker room. He’s not sure if he can jump right in, so he decides to hold off on changing for now. He enters the main training area with his bag. In front of him are two boxing rings, one behind the other. Between them are a few punching bags and a weight machine. At the far end is the mat for the wrestlers.

  In the distance, on the second ring, Eddie sees two young boys training, with four or five others around the ring. They’re all no older than twelve, and a tall man—probably their coach—stands among them. But that’s not where Eddie’s headed.

  In the near corner, by the first ring, is a small door to the coach’s room. In front of it is a stool. On the stool sits an older man with white hair and a belly that’s started spilling over his thighs. His arms are crossed, and he’s watching the second ring with the kids. His eyes are still sharp, like an old wolf’s. He’s wearing the same worn-out sports jacket Eddie always saw him in and a white cap that probably hasn’t been washed since Eddie’s last fight.

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  "Coach." Eddie approaches, snapping him out of his daze.

  Ballard clearly wasn’t expecting him because he jumps, squints, and then sees him.

  "EDDIE! EDDIE WALSH! My boy." Ballard’s on his feet now and, instead of a hug, punches Eddie in the shoulder. "What’re you doing here? Missed me, huh?"

  So old Rex told Cork, a cook at some restaurant, that Eddie’s coming back to the gym, but didn’t tell his best coach—Alfred Ballard. It struck him as ridiculous.

  "Thought I’d try a couple of training sessions, Coach. Wanna see if I’ve still got it." Eddie starts vague. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself if he’s behind on things or if Rex has set something up behind his back again.

  "You’re always welcome, Eddie. Stanley was here earlier, but I don’t know where he went." Ballard looks around. "You remember Stanley, right?"

  "How could I forget all the times I beat him in training?" Eddie laughs.

  "Stanley’s better. Well, not quite on your level, but he does more fights than you. Tries to get at least two a month. Plus, he’s taken on some student classes. You know, something I’d hoped you’d do."

  "Nah, Coach." Eddie pauses for a moment. A joyful shout from the kids’ ring grabs his attention. "Boxing’s behind me. I just got nostalgic…"

  "Eddie!" He hears his name again, but this time he recognizes the voice. "Weakling Eddie Walsh."

  Before he can turn, he feels Stanley’s heavy hand on his shoulder, spinning him around almost forcefully. Stanley’s got light brown hair—years have started stripping away his once-gorgeous blond mane, turning it more dark brown. There’s a scar above one eye from a fight Eddie was in his corner for, and he’s at least a head taller than Eddie. When he smiles, he looks like a little kid. But Stanley’s actually Eddie’s age. And his years for pro sports are starting to slip away.

  "Even without fighting, I could take you, shorty."

  "You calling me shorty?" Stanley’s grin doesn’t fade. "Look at yourself, peanut. This isn’t like chopping onions and tomatoes at your little restaurant. This is for men."

  "Guys like you can only settle things one way."

  Ballard tries to cut in with a joke.

  "I could beat him whenever you say, Coach. Unlike him, I haven’t left the gym." Stanley’s brimming with confidence.

  Eddie looks around. The itch for a fight hasn’t faded, but he’s nervous. He hasn’t fought in a year and came here just to feel the vibe. He’s not up for training. And he remembers what he thought while talking to Rex. Once he puts on the gloves, it’s over. For him, they’re like the mask Jim Carrey wears—turning him into someone else. The same happens with the gloves. He goes wild. Becomes someone different. Not with superpowers, though. Just a guy who always wins.

  "So what brought you here?" Stanley’s calmer now. "Can’t be just for us."

  "I had a meeting with Rex. Saw him, and he suggested I drop by to see you guys."

  Eddie doesn’t tell the whole truth. If they don’t know, maybe he’s not the one who should spill it.

  "Rex stepped out for a bit. If you want, I can spar with you till he’s back. I’ve got ten minutes free anyway." Stanley playfully nudges his shoulder.

  "Ten minutes? You’d have to get up off the floor at least three times. Forgot who I am?"

  They both laugh.

  Alfred Ballard’s already in his little room and comes back out with two pairs of gloves.