Page 30 of Ours to Lose
More than that, I wanted to know what he had to show me. To peek under the steel cover he kept so tightly in place for everyone else.
Curiosity won out.
Me:I’d like that.
Thirty seconds later, a message came through with an address in Fishtown. I could take the subway, but it’d be tight to make it there and back to my place by seven. Driving would get me there in half the time, giving me an hour to see whatever it was and still make it home in time to shower.
Or I could ask Gabe to show me whatever it was tomorrow instead.
I grabbed the keys to the catering van and headed for the door.
It tookthree shoves to get the boarded-up door to the old building in Fishtown to budge free. I let it swing inward to allow as much fading daylight in as possible before I walked into what appeared to be a top-notch murder site.
Dark, deserted. Someplace no one would think to look for a body. There weren’t any cars out front, but Gabe didn’t have a car, so that didn’t mean anything.
The glimpse of a punching bag reassured me. If boxing was involved, Gabe would be too.
I stepped inside, the heavy door latching behind me, and breathed in the musty air. It felt a little like stepping into a time capsule. All around were tokens of the past, little pieces of history that told the story of what this place once was.
Rows of faded punching bags with duct tape wrapped around their middles hung from chains hooked to the ceiling. Faded banners printed with different names and logos lined the brick walls. A weight rack sat off to the side, a few of the dumbbells missing, with a frayed jump rope looped over one corner.
Straight ahead, raised on a platform beneath a cluster of all but one burned-out lights, was a boxing ring. It rose from the concrete floor like a crown waiting for its king to claim it. I wandered its perimeter, running my hand along one of the ropes. My fingers came away with dust.
Footsteps across the room echoed off the shadowed walls. Gabe stopped next to one of the pillars that lined the space, standing nearly as tall and just as solid, watching me take in the surroundings.
Being in the same room as him again had my pulse humming. To see him with my own eyes, here instead of halfway across the country.
“What is this place?” I asked. My voice carried in the silence of the room.
“My old gym,” he replied somewhat measured. Almost as if he was nervous of what I might think. “My first one, actually.”
I swept another glance, taking in the space through the eyes of a fourteen-year-old Gabe. It was big, the room stretching in a long line away from the street, the air still crackling with energy accumulated from all the young boxers who must have trained here.
“It’s amazing,” I said.
“I’m going to buy it.” His expression held the same determination he’d worn during his boxing matches in high school. The ones I would go to with Evan and his mom as an infatuated twelve-year-old and watch with wide eyes, amazed one person could carry so much power.
He’d been a giant to me then. A superhero. Immovable and unbreakable.
He’d since been broken.
Both physically and mentally, more than he let most people see. I wasn’t sure why I was the one he’d chosen to show his wounds to, but he had, just like he’d invited me here.
Based on the resolve in his voice, this was how he intended to put himself back together.
“Is that why you needed a suit?”
He seemed surprised I knew about that but recovered quickly. “Yeah. I tried to get a loan, but I don’t have enough cash for the bank to give me one yet. And I only have three months to get it before Coach Lou sells to someone else.”
I blew out a breath and took a seat on the edge of the ring. This probably wasn’t the kind of thing we could organize a few bake sales for and call it a day. He could try to crowdfund, but unless it went viral, that seemed like a long shot with only three months.
I wanted him to get this, though. Wanted him to have a win after all the hits he’d endured the past two years. He deserved a new purpose now that his time in the ring was over. Something that brought him just as much meaning and joy.
And if there was a secret part of me that hoped he’d find that purposehereso he would stay, I made sure to bury it deep enough not to notice.
He joined me to sit on the edge of the mat, his bent knees rising several inches above mine. “My buddy agreed to let me fight in a local tournament he’s putting together. The prize is enough to get me the loan.”
My pulse sped up as I realized what he was saying. From excitement at the possibility as much as concern at the risk. “Are you sure you want that?” I asked. “To fight again?”
