text: Three men make themselves uninvited guests at Aiden Davenport’s table. “Swanky,” says the lofty, heavyset man. “Yeah, this is one of the best culinary establishments in Vegas,” the skinny man at the other end of the table comments. “Can we order? I hear the Crispy Skin Grilled Duck Confit is to die for.” The pasty, scowling man in the middle with the slicked-back black hair gives the second man a bewildered glance. “I swear Danilo, you must have had a different father. We won’t be here long enough for you to write a review for Yelp. I am Marko Melnyk. The gourmet is my brother, Danilo, and the hulk seated at the end is Maxim Gorski.” Aiden notices Marko’s clipped accent. “Russian?” Marko’s head snaps back in revulsion. “I am Ukrainian. In fact, my competitors call me the ‘Ukrainian Nightmare’ Let me get to the point. In a few days, you will fight Bullfrog Brazier in defense of your title. You will lose.” Aiden practically leaps across the table at Marko. His manager, Candido “Candy” Casanova, and trainer, Gabe Spinner, grab him by the shoulders, pushing him back into his seat. “I’ve worked for too long and have taken too many punches to take a dive.” “Your manager is a lousy poker player, and your trainer couldn’t pick a winning horse in a field of one.” “How much are they into you for?” Aiden asks. “Two hundred fifty thousand each.” Candy and Gabe lower their heads in shame. “You two should have come to me before it got this far. Ruby has a tight rein on our purse strings, I can’t ask her for that much money. And I’ll repeat what I said before about throwing the fight, so you know where I stand. NYET.” Maxim cracks the knuckles on his massive hands. “You don’t scare me, Godzilla. I’ve knocked out bigger goons than you. Maybe honor and integrity are strange qualities for a boxer to have, but I’m proud of my reputation as well as my forty-three knockouts. I win my next fight and I’ll pass Julio Chavez for the most title defenses.” “There’s nothing wrong with sharing the record,” Danilo offers. “You have held the title long enough, Mister Davenport,” Marko says. “Are you suggesting I retire?” “That is entirely up to you,” Marko replies, curling his lips into a predatory smile. “I like money and what it brings. I cannot have it if you hold the title.” “I’m surprised you’re backing Brazier. Everyone knows he can’t fight. The odds are fifteen to one that I’ll paste him. If by some miracle he takes the title from me he’ll lose it in his first defense.” Marko’s sharkish grin widens. “That is the plan.” “I’d rather die in the ring than throw away my title. And there’s nothing you can do that’ll change my mind.” “We have your wife.” Ruby Davenport rubs her eyes, trying to wipe the cobwebs from her mind. Looking around, Ruby takes note of the beige walls, IKEA end tables, and utilitarian lamps. She realizes she’s in a hotel room. Sitting up in bed, Ruby stifles a gasp as her gaze meets the startled stare of a swarthy, sleepy-eyed young man dressed in black leaning against the dresser. He cordially nods at her. “Where am I?” “You’ve been asleep for hours,” he replies. “For all you know, we could be in Canada by now.” “How long do you intend to keep me here?” “Until the end of the fight.” The spirited, petite redhead’s apprehension dissipates, replaced by anger. “Explain what’s going on, junior...” “My name’s Reed Melnyk. It’s simple. Your husband throws the fight, and you’ll go home. Otherwise...” “Ah, the death threat,” Ruby replies, studying him. “How old are you?” “Twenty-three.” “You're kind of young to be swimming in the deep end of the organized crime pool, aren’t you Reed?” “My Pop was a made man when he was my age.” “Really? Where is he?” “Dead. He died in a shoot-out with the police.” “What does that tell you? Have you ever killed anyone, Reed?” Squirming, Reed replies, “No. But my Uncle knows I can step up if I have to.” Ruby scoffs. “I’ll behave, Al Capone. But I can’t speak for Aiden. Lay down, stay down is not part of his fight strategy.” “Then he’ll have to face my Uncle and his men. And they don’t fight fairly,” Reed says. “If they’re anything like you, I’ll bet on my husband. You don’t seem like the gangster type. I bet you wanted to be something else as a kid.” Reed lets his guard down. “...A photographer...” “So, instead of having a forty-five in that bag on the floor, you’ve got a camera?” “That’s right.” “You didn’t happen to take any pictures of me while I was unconscious, did you?” “Just one,” Reed answers timidly. “I took it with my phone to show my Uncle my mission was successful.” “Yeah, you were really quiet when you snuck in the house and chloroformed me,” Ruby replies. “So, what are we going to do for the next forty-eight hours? And please, don’t let your libido do your thinking. I don’t want to have to slap you around.” “Woah! I’m married!” “But are you in love?” Ruby asks. “Of course. I met Phoebe in the eighth grade. There’s never been anyone else.” “Then you must understand how wrong this is. I feel the same way about Aiden as you do about Phoebe.” “Everything’ll work out fine if he loves you more than he loves being champ,” Reed says reassuringly. “If he doesn’t, you’ll never see him again.” Two nattily dressed men stride into the Rumble Boxing Gym where Boone “Bullfrog” Brazier is training. The amateur boxers banging away at the heavy bags and jumping rope slowly cede the room to the men. Bullfrog’s pint-sized, bald trainer Brutus Bolinger, yells, “Time!” Bullfrog stops mugging his sparring partner. Sucking for air, his cheeks puffing out like a bullfrog’s, he says to his manager, “I told you so.” Bullfrog’s manager, Nevin Badoo, protectively stands in front of the ring. His hand tightens around his brass-tipped cane, and he raises it, ready to defend himself. “...Welcome back, Mossy...” he says shakily. Maurice “Mossy” Graves’s declared profession of undertaker fits his tall, gaunt appearance. In contrast to his dynamic blue eyes, his face is long, pale, and thin. He has bushy, iron-gray hair, brushed high above his forehead, and often sports a bitter expression, giving him a striking resemblance to Andrew Jackson. The second man, Handy Mandy Muldaur, has an over-powering, tanned frame, bushy brows, and a maniacal look in his eye. “You don’t want to have to hobble around on two canes, do you, Nevin?” Graves asks. Nevin lowers his cane. “So that’s really how you broke your leg,” Brutus says to Nevin. “Breaking legs has become a cliché, but it’s still an effective one,” Graves replies. “I told you, Mossy, no one’s gonna believe it if Bullfrog takes a dive,” Nevin says. “The Boxing Commission will withhold our purse, and maybe even suspend him if they find out he threw the fight.” “Besides, I want to beat Davenport fair and square,” Bullfrog says. “Here’s another old saying,” Graves replies. “You try to fight Davenport, Bullfrog, and you’ll croak. I’m backing him.” “I beat Henry Harrison and Lefty Wright to get this shot. They’re both heavy hitters like Davenport.” “He doesn’t know, boss,” Handy Mandy guffaws. Graves allows himself a mealy grin. “You never wondered why Wright, who’d been trashing you for six rounds suddenly ran out of gas and walked into your jab? Wright and half your other fights were fixed.” Bullfrog thinks about jumping the ropes to get at Graves. He reconsiders when he sees Handy Mandy check his jacket pocket for what appears to be a gun. “If you’re so sure Davenport can beat me, why bother trying to bribe me?” “It’s not the result of the fight I’m worried about. It’s the round,” Graves answers. “I’m betting you fall in round two, so that’s why I need your cooperation.” “I won’t do it.” Brutus throws a towel around Bullfrog’s shoulders. “Take the deal, Bullfrog.” “Et tu, Brutus,” Bullfrog replies. “I’m not gonna let some coffin salesman run my career.” “I own fifty-five percent of your contract, Bullfrog. Jesus, Nevin, haven’t you told this dope anything? I’ll say it one last time. You’re taking a dive in the second round. You remember Stanley Sandusky?” “Do I ever! He knocked me out in the fifth round. I never saw it coming. He was on the bullet train to a title fight when he disappeared.” “You can either take a nap in the ring or in the dirt with Stanley.” Aiden lowers his sunglasses to the end of his nose, scanning the room. “Don’t worry, I paid the waiters to keep this section of the restaurant closed until we’ve talked,” Bullfrog says. The two fighters tell each other about Melnyk and Graves’ threats. “So, I’m supposed to lose, and you’re supposed to lose,” Bullfrog says, rubbing his hand over his scarred features. “They’ve got my wife. I have to go along with what Melnyk wants.” “And if I don’t lose, Graves will chop me into Kibbles and Bits. Either way, one of us is going to suffer. I wish there was a way out of this.” Brushing back his blonde mane, Aiden flashes a winning smile. “There might be a way...” Reed licks barbecue sauce off the end of his fingers. “Use a napkin, they gave you a hundred of them,” Ruby scolds. “Not bad for door-to-door,” Reed replies, wiping his hands. “I know you’re used to gourmet dinners...” “When this is over, the quality of the Chinese food is the last thing I will complain about.” “Yeah, I guess being held captive sucks,” Reed replies, checking the clock on the wall. “The fight starts in three hours. Maybe you’ll be home in four.” Ruby shakes a finger at Reed. “Tsk, Tsk. You just gave away a clue that I’m only fifty or sixty miles away from home.” “Pretty smart trick. Maybe you should have been the champ’s manager instead of Candy Casanova.” Ruby raises her glass of soda, grimacing when she takes a gulp. “Can you get some ice? This soda is hotter than the action on the fight.” “Sure, but I’m going to have to lock you in.” “I understand. You’re just doing your job. And you’re really good at it.” Ruby stays in her chair until she hears the lock engage. She heads to the bathroom. Chuckling to herself, Ruby says, “I bet Reed is going to wish he had a picture of this.” Ruby opens the window, sliding out. Running to the corner, she hails a passing cab. Aiden and Bullfrog stare vacantly into each other’s eyes as referee Phil Gut explains the rules. Leaning on his cane, Nevin comments, “Given the circumstances, Bullfrog looks pretty calm.” “He always was a better actor than a fighter,” Brutus replies. “Did you spike his water?” “Yeah. The drugs should begin to take effect halfway through the first round,” Brutus answers. “He’ll fall in the second, whether he likes it or not.” The two fighters charge out of their corners, then uncharacteristically begin circling one another. The crowd responds by booing the reluctant warriors. Candy Casanova turns to Gabe Spinner. “What is this, a high school dance?” “Don’t blame Aiden. Bullfrog’s dragging his feet too.” The two fighters clinch. Aiden whispers, “This is awful, do something!” tapping his glove against Bullfrog’s ribs. Bullfrog drops to one knee. Sitting at ringside in the second row, Maurice Graves buries his head in his hand. Turning to Handy Mandy, he asks, “Did I miss something?” “Like a punch?” Handy Mandy looks at the replay on his phone. “Must’ve been a phantom punch. Maybe Bullfrog is trying to ratchet up the drama for his swoon in the second.” Bullfrog winces, holding his side as Phil Gut counts over him. Bullfrog stands as the count reaches seven. Phil Gut looks into Bullfrog’s eyes. “You okay? Can you go on?” “Never felt better,” Bullfrog responds. “Then what the hell are you doin’?” Gut whispers. “I got ten grand on Davenport. You’re supposed to drop in the second round, you punch-drunk nimrod. NOW, BOX!” Aiden charges at Bullfrog throwing wild hooks, as if looking to finish him off. The fighters exchange a flurry of namby-pamby body shots. Aiden misses with a lunging right cross. Bullfrog taps him on the jaw with a jab. Aiden pitches forward, landing on his face. Aiden rolls over onto his back as Phil Gut begins to count. The crowd’s cheers nearly drown out Gut’s voice, but Aiden can still hear the referee’s frustrated comments. “ONE... Get up you son of a... TWO... I bet my paycheck on you... THREE... You can’t hand this bum the crown... FOUR... What have you got against me? ... Michael Phelps took a better dive... FIVE... I’m just tryin’ to earn a livin'...” Aiden rolls on his side in a feeble attempt to get up. He spots Ruby racing down the aisle, running toward his corner. At six, Aiden jumps to his feet. “C’mon Champ! Show them all who’s boss!” Ruby yells. Seated in the third row directly behind Mossy Graves, Marko Melnyk slips his arms around the shoulders of his two henchmen. “Give Reed a chance, you said...” “I promised his father, our brother, that we’d look after him,” Danilo replies. “We? Our brother was stupid and impetuous. His boy is brilliant and careless. Find him. Get rid of him.” “But he’s family...” “Get out of my face, both of you. Do not come back until Reed is chum.” The two bodyguards reluctantly make their way through the aisle. “Are you all right with this?” Maxim asks. “We’re not going to kill Reed. We’ll find him and put him on a flight to Berkely, where he can attend photography school.” Maxin breaks out in a sweat. “We’re supposed to get rid of him, Danilo, not reward him. What if your brother finds out?” “He won’t, and do you know why? He made a big mistake, his last. He doesn’t have any bodyguards with him now. He has to drive the limo himself. We wait for him to drive off after the fight, and it’s the end of the Ukrainian Nightmare.” Aiden hits Bullfrog with two hard hooks to the head, stunning him. Pulling Aiden into a clinch, Bullfrog whispers, “What gives?” “Ruby. She’s free.” “So, you’re gonna renege on our deal?” “I have what I want the most, my wife.” Aiden pushes Bullfrog away, slamming him with a four-punch combination. Bullfrog’s body stiffens, crashing to the canvas like a falling redwood. Phil Gut starts counting over Bullfrog. The bell rings when Gut reaches five, saving Bullfrog from being counted out. Bullfrog’s cornermen carry their fighter back to his stool. “He’s the most knocked man I’ve ever seen,” Brutus says. “Plus, those sedatives we spiked his water with have done the trick. He’s in La La Land. There’s no way we can send him out for the second round.” Nevin glances at Mossy Graves, who grits his teeth, making a fist. “He really does look like Andrew Jackson when he’s mad,” Nevin says flippantly. “Yeah, but I don’t think he’s gonna give us a presidential pardon,” Brutus replies. As Aiden returns to his corner, Candy asks, “Why’d you do it, champ?” “For us,” Ruby replies, hugging Aiden through the ropes. Aiden sits down on his stool. “And by the way, Candy, you and Gabe are fired.” Aiden waves Phil Gut over. “I can’t come out for the second round, Phil. “It’s my shoulder. I think I separated it.” Exasperated, Gut says, “All you gotta do is make it to the center of the ring and you’ll win.” “I’m in too much pain.” “You? My bankroll’s gone, thanks to you. Look, Bulldog’s practically in a coma. If you don’t come out for the second and he can’t come out, I’ll have to declare the match no contest. It’ll be like the fight never happened.” “So, everybody gets their money back. A shame,” Aiden replies. The bell sounds. Phil Gut moves to the center of the ring, certain that his announcement will result in chaos. Mossy Graves and Handy Mandy Muldaur watch ringside doctor Santo Corsica examine Aiden’s shoulder. The pocket-sized physician with the oversized Afro has been treating fighters for twenty-five years, and any diagnosis he makes is treated as an irrefutable fact. “He’ll be back in perfect shape in a week or two,” Dr. Corsica whispers to Ruby. “That’s great, Doc. But don’t forget what I paid you to say,” Ruby replies. Dr. Corsica turns to face Graves’ demanding stare. “He has a torn rotator cuff. He’ll be out of the ring for at least six months, and he’ll never be the same fighter.” “Maybe you should retire, Aiden. Go out a champ,” Graves proposes. Ruby steps forward looking up at Graves, her gaze and attitude indomitable. Graves and Handy Mandy step back. “I’m sorry we had to detain you...,” Graves offers. “Detain? You mean kidnap, you crooked Andrew Jackson imitation! Kidnapping puts you on the hook for ten years. I’ll cancel my talk with the Feds if you forget what Candy and Gabe owe you.” “...Sure, done. Well, it’s been fun everyone. I’m going to visit Bullfrog to see if he’s okay.” Aiden huffs. “You mean you’re going to let him know that I’m out of the way, and you’re going to get him another fixed championship fight.” “What can I say? I love this sport,” Graves replies, giving them a graveyard smile. “There’s something you should know, Mister Graves,” Dr. Corsica says. “I examined Bullfrog in his locker room before I looked at Aiden. Bullfrog has a detached retina. He’ll never fight again.”