Fearless (The Solomon Brothers Series Book 3) by Leslie North

Author:Leslie North [North, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

While Roosevelt took a turn with Henry inside the octagon—to celebrate finishing the bridge, Roosevelt’s choice—Maggie cleaned what she could of the gym’s corner impacted by the fire. Henry told her not to, that it wasn’t her responsibility, but she inspired the kids in the gym that evening to help. Soon, between the old-timer boxer friends of Sol hanging heavy plastic tarps from the rafters to cordon off the more severe damage and everyone else spending their training time wiping soot off all the equipment, polishing windows, and scrubbing the floors, the gym was largely back in order.

She hadn’t attacked Sol’s office. Henry had quietly insisted that space was off limits. He had a strange, almost savage attachment to the space, like a grieving widow who kept her husband’s closet the same as when he had been alive, down to the dirty socks. Maggie suspected it kept Henry from moving forward, especially since he had forfeited his own apartment to bunk down on Sol’s office cot. Still, she respected his wishes.

Cal, a boxer who had been around since Sol’s days, settled beside Maggie. He handed her a paper plate with a few slices of sausage and cheese pizza Henry had ordered for the cleaning crew as thanks then dug into his own dinner. He had a face like a bulldog, pronounced jowls and all, but he had the demeanor of a teddy bear.

“Tell me about Sol,” said Maggie.

“What do you want to know?”

Cal spoke slowly, deliberately. She knew Cal had been a boxer. He told her so when they had wiped down floor mats. She felt awful attributing his speech delay to perhaps too many blows to the noggin. Instead, she settled into his slower pace and cadence, found it relaxed her.

“What was his relationship to Henry?”

“Suppose as close to a father as anything. Sol was a religious man. Turned many boys here into good men, decent men, a revolving door of philanthropy he felt called by God to do, but Henry…There was always something special there. Henry has his way, Sol’s contributions won’t be forgotten. He always wanted to paint a mural of him on that far wall over there, fill it with quotes. Sol was always saying something worthy of a book. Shoulda been a preacher, I suppose. Henry never got around to the mural. Never enough money to fix this place up the way he wanted.”

“Where does the money come from?”

“Donations, primarily. Lots of professionals come in here when they spill outta them high-rises a few blocks away—bankers, CEOs, surgeons. Don’t want to mess with them gyms in the suburbs. Fancy equipment, no heart. All the training they need right here with a champ. Rest of it come out of Henry’s winnings. Poured darned near everything he had into keeping this place open so the kids would have a safe place to go after school. Place to keep them on track. Kids gotta toe a straight line to get in that door. Henry won’t have it any other way, same as Sol.

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