Mean Machine by Aleksandr Voinov

Author:Aleksandr Voinov [Voinov, Aleksandr]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction
ISBN: 9781644057032
Publisher: DSP Publications
Published: 2020-07-20T18:30:00+00:00

FOR ALL his high standards and strictness and pure inventiveness when it came to activating muscles nobody had ever used in the history of mankind, Santos was never truly mean or brutal or volatile.

It wasn’t long until the light post-fight training regime morphed into all-out in-between-fights training. The new gym’s aged brick walls were almost depressingly bare-bones, but it had a ring, bags, ropes, changing rooms, and a shower.

Santos guarded the premises like a watchdog during the morning hours, which was when they had the place to themselves, apart from the occasional sparring partner who came in from the outside to train with them and go a few rounds. The only people who had access otherwise were Cash, a cleaner, and presumably the owner, a square-faced black guy who looked like a boxer about twenty years and eighty pounds ago. He sometimes came in to watch, chat with Santos, and then vanished again.

At noon one day, Brooklyn was sitting on the bench, sports bag between his feet, waiting for the driver, when Cash came practically bouncing in. Brooklyn stood, vaguely amused at how happy Cash looked. “What happened?”

“We have Thorne’s signature on the paperwork. The fight’s agreed and approved as a title fight.” Cash beamed at Brooklyn, making him laugh.

“Good news. When?”

“Exactly four months from now. Mind you, his titles are on the line. He’ll fight hard.”

“So will I.” Brooklyn gathered up his bag. “Any news about a trainer?”

“Yes, actually.” Cash’s brightness dimmed a bit. “I found a good one, if you get along with him. He’ll join you tomorrow.”

They left the gym and went to Cash’s car, parked just outside in the cramped yard. Cash made it a point of pride to get him to the gym in the mornings and back home afterward. The rest of the day, Brooklyn did things he’d barely if ever found the time for as a convict—relax or read or watch any of Cash’s gigantic collection of fights. If he wanted to spend an hour with Ali or Foreman, he could. Other things kept him busy too, such as paperwork. After much bureaucratic wrangling, he’d had his social security number reactivated, which meant access to the NHS. All that proved much more exhausting and emotional than it should.

Cash had insisted on private health insurance, as well as life and critical illness cover, in case he got hit in the head too hard and needed care for the rest of his life. Brooklyn didn’t like that Cash had to pay out of pocket for the premiums, but with the use of the gym, Santos’s fees, and some pocket money for whatever else he needed—if it was only a few pounds to buy a pack of cereal or protein bars or a bottle of water—his debts were already racking up, and rapidly, so a few pounds more or less a month barely seemed to make a difference.

That was what he told himself at least—except everything about that reminded him of being up to his eyebrows

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