Filthy Fight (Hard n' Dirty Book 2) by Alta Hensley

Author:Alta Hensley [Hensley, Alta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

14

Mateo

“The loss just made me hungry; it made me want to go out and win another title.”

– Thomas “Hitman” Hearns

As my first paycheck hit my bank account giving me more funds than necessary just to keep the lights on, I knew exactly what I wanted to do first. Since I couldn’t yet afford to pay for any decent treatment for my father—a problem that I still hadn’t managed to work out a solution for—I wanted to do something else for him. Since he was having the first good day in a very long time, I also knew that the timing was right.

“Come on, Dad,” I said, extending my hand out to him. “We’re going to go out for the day.”

“We are?” he asked in surprise. “Where are we going?”

“Well, first I thought that you might like to see Shamrocks.” I grinned, knowing how much he liked boxing and all that surrounded it. My dad had been a big influence in my decision to pursue boxing as a career. When I was growing up, he always had a fight on the TV, and we used to spend hours chatting about different fighters, causing my interest to grow even more. “See where I’m training these days, and afterwards I’ll take you out for steak.” Sure, it might not be the fanciest, or most expensive restaurant around, but I knew that it was my dad’s favorite, so I was more than happy to treat him to something special.

“That sounds great.” Dad smiled happily. “Thank you.”

As we drove along in the car, he started talking about his favorite fights from the past, ones that happened before I got involved in the scene, and I saw that spark of the old him coming back. The one that I knew well before he got sick. I hated that he was so ill. I hated the fact that it felt like no matter how hard I tried, I was losing him anyway. It was damn near killing me, but I really didn’t want that to be the focus of today. I didn’t want to think about anything that had been happening with his decline in health. I just wanted to concentrate on making him happy for today.

I smiled to myself as I listened to him talk about how growing up in Cuba, learning how to fight in the streets was a real art. It was a right of passage and boxing reminded him of the days of old. He missed Cuba, but hearing him talk about his childhood and tying it to a sport I loved, made me proud. I knew that boxing connected us in ways that most couldn’t understand. We rarely ever talked about my career anymore, not the one I had before the scandal anyway. I knew that I disappointed him, and he knew that it made me sad. But I hoped that by working on a comeback, I would at least in some way redeem myself in his eyes.

“Well, here we are,” I said as we pulled up outside the gym.

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