True Identity

Michael Coleman cringed upon hearing the news from his friend, Joshua.

“What do you mean you got a date for me tonight?” Michael asked curtly as he slammed his locker door shut.  “When did this happen?”

Josh rolled his eyes.  “What’s the big deal, Mike, I told you I was going to the movies tonight with Emily.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Michael asked with a bewildered look.

“Mike, it’s Friday.  Let’s walk home and I’ll explain on the way.”

The two Seaford High School seniors continued their conversation during their walk home to their suburban Long Island neighborhood.  A warm June breeze caressed their faces as they exited the building. The smell of a late Friday afternoon was in the air and the anticipation of the upcoming weekend was in their thoughts.

“Emily’s cousin is visiting her,” Josh said, “If I can’t get her a date then Emily can’t go.  You see my dilemma?”

“I see that you’re making your problem mine, Josh.  You know I’d like to help you out, but I don’t like double dates, and blind dates are even worse.”

“Emily said that her cousin, Ashley, is very pretty and very cool.  Come on, Mike, help me out. Besides, what the hell else have you got to do tonight, play with your damn stethoscope?”

“Telescope, Josh, and it’s not that I have anything better to do, I’m just not into this tonight.  And don’t make it like you’re the scoring king of Kennedy High. The last time you were inside a woman was when you visited the Statue of Liberty.”

“Don’t be a wise ass, Mike.  Come on, think of all the times I came through for you?”

“Name one time, Josh!”

“Okay, okay, so help me out tonight and I’ll owe you.”

“You are such a freakin’ pain, but alright.”

The boys had just reached the foot of Michael’s driveway.  “Thanks, Mike, I really appreciate it. You’ll have a good time.  I know it. Come down to my house around seven and we’ll go from there.”  Josh fist-bumped Mike and then headed to his house, two doors down.

Mike glared into the setting sun.  He wasn’t really looking forward to a date tonight, but, he thought to himself, how bad could it be?  Since an answer was not on the tip of his tongue he ambled up his driveway and strolled into his colonial home.

His father, with a glass of scotch screwed into his right hand and a cigarette burning in an ashtray on the end table to his left, was the first to greet him.  “Why are you late again, Mike, baseball practice?” His Dad asked this question seemingly every night, with his body slumped in his recliner, his feet resting on the ottoman and his eyes transfixed on the New York Post.

“I told you Dad, I didn’t make the baseball team.  Anyway, the season is over. Remember I told you and Mom that we’re doing Shakespeare’s MacBeth.”

“No son of mine is prancing around the stage in a pair of tights like some English sissy,” proclaimed Mike’s dad, his back still to his son and his attention still on his newspaper.

“I’m not an actor,” assured Michael.  “I am behind the scenes, building sets, helping with costumes, that kind of thing.”

His dad took a long drag of his cigarette and grunted a moderate approval.

Michael’s mother had been making dinner, but now joined the conversation.  “We’re sure you’ll do a great job, Michael.” His mom was an attractive woman, whose looks had faded slightly over the years, mostly due to her stressful life with an antagonistic husband.  But her sunny disposition could not be compromised, and she was always a big cheerleader for her two sons.

Life’s daily grind, coupled with years of smoking and drinking, had turned Mike’s dad into a cynical and bitter man.  He longed for a son more in his own image. Someone tough and athletic, who was good with his hands and enjoyed hunting and fishing.  Instead, he was saddled with a sensitive and awkward astronomy lover, who was squeamish around fish and fainted at the sight of blood.

“Thanks, Mom.  Please call me when dinner is ready.  I’ll be upstairs. Josh and I are taking two girls to the movies tonight.  I’ll be leaving here around seven.”

Michael wearily made his way upstairs, with one arm on the bannister and his feet dragging behind him.  The sound of his father’s voice grumbling to his mom about when dinner will be ready in the distant background.

At the top of the stairs, his brother, Brad, who was on his way from the bathroom they shared to his bedroom, met him.  Brad had just finished his freshman year in college and was now working with their Dad as a carpenter in Manhattan. He had just showered and undoubtedly was preparing for his nightly date.  

“Hey, kid, how’s life in High School?” asked Brad, with a smile, securing his towel around his waist.

Mike chuckled over the use of the word “kid” by his brother.  They were only one year apart. Although they had little in common, they had a close relationship. Mike looked up to his brother, and knew anyone who harmed him would be the recipient of Brad’s wrath and martial arts training.  “Fine, Brad. Let me guess. Another big date tonight with a great looking girl who’s not aware that you were out last night with a different great looking girl!”

Brad laughed as he pushed his bedroom door open.  Mike followed him in.

“You’re a funny guy for a nerdy little brother.  I shudder at the idea that we’ll both be going to the same college next year.  What will you be studying, astrology?”

“Astronomy, Brad.  It’s s good thing you are such a great athlete.”

“Oh, that’s right, astronomy.  Dad said you are a natural since you have spent your life taking up space.”

Brad’s good-natured ribbing brought a smile to Mike’s face.  “I’ll leave you alone to get dressed for your night of conquering.  Staying for dinner?”

“Sorry, can’t,” Brad said, raising his arms to roll on his deodorant and then spritzing a pungent spray in the vicinity of his chest.  “I’m going out to eat with Stephanie, or Susan. No, I’m sure it’s Stephanie. I know it’s a name that starts with an “S”.

“You’re such a romantic.”

“What do you have going on tonight, little brother?”

Michael’s smile disappeared and was replaced with a somber expression.  “Josh and I are taking two girls to the movies. Maybe we’ll get something to eat after.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad night,” offered Brad, as he tucked in the new shirt Mike assumed he had bought with his first paycheck.  “Why the long face?”

Mike looked away, gathered his thoughts and then his eyes met Brad’s.  “It’s a blind date. She’s supposed to be a pretty girl. But I don’t know.  My heart’s just not into it.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?  Who knows, you may have a good time.  Anyway, it’s better than staying in again on a Friday night playing with your microscope.”

“Telescope.  I get the message.  I already got the pep talk from Josh.”

“Good.  Have a good time.  See you in the morning.”

Mike was not certain whether that meant that Brad would be home tonight much later than him, or if Brad would not be home until morning.  He decided not to ask and headed down the hall to his room. His cell phone was low on power and needed to be re-charged. As soon as he plugged his phone in, the sound of his mom announcing that dinner was ready filled the house, as did the rich bouquet of a well-prepared spaghetti and meatballs dinner.

Following Brad’s departure to meet an “S” named girl for an “R” rated evening, Mike and his parents sat down to eat.  “The meal is terrific, mom,” Mike said as he immersed a piece of Italian bread into a tiny pool of sauce he had created on his plate, fortified with two meatballs.  

Even Mike’s dad, who threw compliments around like manhole covers, was impressed.  He said to his wife, “Karen, for an Irish broad, you really can cook up an Italian dinner.”  That was as deep as he got on the sensitivity meter.

“Well, thank you, guys,” exclaimed a startled Karen.  “It’s nice to be appreciated. Michael, what was it you were saying before about going to the movies?”

Michael swigged a last sip of iced tea and responded, “Josh and I are taking two girls to the movies tonight and maybe to the diner after.”

“Anybody we know?” Karen asked curiously.

“Well, you two know Josh Green.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it Mr. Smart Guy.  I mean do we know the girls?”

“You may have met Emily Harris.  She goes out with Josh. They set me up with her cousin, Ashley.  She goes to a different school. I’ve never met her.”

“Do you need any money?” inquired Karen, ignoring a disapproving stare from her husband.

“No, I’m fine.  I have some money.”

Mike’s dad pushed his chair back and left the table to seek out a second beer.  He wanted a match for the two glasses of scotch he had consumed earlier in his recliner.  On his way back to the table he dropped two $20 bills down in front of his son. “Mike, have a good time tonight.  Show the cousin a good time.”

Mike tried to hide his astonished expression, feeling like the fat man taking a cannon ball to the stomach.  If he had the courage to look up, he was sure he’d find the same expression adorning his mom’s face. “Thanks, Dad” was all he could choke out.

Karen cleared her throat and steadied herself before she spoke.  “Yes, son. Have a good time. Just try not to be home too late.”

“It’s really no big thing.  I don’t even want to go, but Josh talked me into it, and your older son, Fonzie, thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I agree with them,” said Mike’s dad, with a mouth full of beer and a t-shirt full of spaghetti sauce stains.  “It will be good for you. Mike, you need to go out more, have some fun, hang out with your friends, and spend some time with girls.  Your mother and I are getting sick of you moping around the house and fooling around with your periscope.”

“Tele…Never mind.  You’re right, Dad. Thanks again for the money.”

“Just be yourself, Michael.  No girl could resist that.”

“I only wish I could mom,” Mike responded as he hurried upstairs to get ready for his “date.”

“You ready for our big night, Mike?” Josh asked as he slid behind the wheel of his parents’ newly painted Jet Black Jeep Grand Cherokee.  

Mike fastened his seat belt and responded, “Sure, I guess so,” while looking out the passenger side window, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Come on, Mike, you promised.”

“If you recall, Josh, I promised to tag along and occupy Emily’s cousin to help you out, but I said nothing about my level of interest.”

“You’re being such a prick about this, Mike.  I bet you have a good time.”

Mike shot Josh a displeased look.  “If you had any money, or if I thought you’d pay me if you lost, I would bet you.  Let’s just pick them up.”

“Well, that’s a little better.  I have to make a stop before first.”

Josh guided his parents’ SUV down Sunrise Highway, eventually making a right turn into the CVS parking lot.  “You want to come in with me or stay in the car?”

“Why are we stopping here?” inquired Mike.  This stop was not on the itinerary.

“I want to get a bottle of water and some other stuff,” Josh said.

“Other stuff”?”

“I need to take the danger out of being close.”

“Are you buying breath mints?”

“No,” exclaimed an exasperated Josh.  “I need protection. You never know what may arise.”

Mike’s expression bore a little crinkle between his eyes.  “Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun a bit? I mean, what makes you think that’s even a remote possibility tonight?”

“Like I always tell you, Mike, you have to think positive.  Besides, I spoke to Emily a few times today about tonight. She really seems receptive.”

“The last time you thought that a girl was receptive you were thrown out of Andrea Lewis’ party and had to walk home in your underwear.”

“Again with the freakin’ smart remarks.  That was a whole different thing, Mike. I was just a kid then.”

“It was three weeks ago.”

“I know, and I’ve matured since then.  My approach is entirely different now. Emily respects my honesty.  No games. I told her that there was something straight I needed to get between us.”

Mike stared intently at the boy he had been best friends with since third grade.  Silence filled the car for almost a minute until Josh asked “So are you coming in with me or not?”

“No, I’ll just stay here.  I’ll take a bottle of water, though, but that’s it.  Don’t buy anything else for me.”

“Sure, you got it.”  Josh pushed the driver door open and went into CVS to purchase a box of hope and desire.  Mike was already hesitant about the upcoming evening, and was concerned that Josh’s proactive investment would anger Emily, which in turn would draw the ire of her cousin, Ashley.  Mike had a vision of Josh broaching this subject during the movie and of the two of them exiting the theatre with hot buttered popcorn stuck to their heads and cokes soaking their shirts.  He didn’t want to think about what the girls might do with the Milk Duds.

The car door swung open and Josh got behind the driver’s seat, with a bag that he gave Mike to hold and a satisfied smile.  “I feel like I’m holding evidence that was taken from a crime scene. I want it on record that I have nothing to do with this plan of yours.  My fingerprints on this bag are my only involvement.”

“Will you stop being so dramatic,” Josh said as he backed the car out of the lot and merged back onto Sunrise Highway.  In about five minutes, they would be at Emily’s house.

A man with a receding hairline and hands like oven mitts answered the door.  “Hi, I’m Emily’s father, come in.” His polite demeanor did not match his oversized hands nor his uni-brow.

Mike and Josh took seats on the couch, sweating out each second until the girls were ready.  Mr. Harris asked the boys if they wanted anything to drink, which they politely declined. Mike was glad that Josh had not shared the contents of the CVS bag sitting on the floor of the Jeep Grand Cherokee with Emily’s dad.

As Josh made awkward small talk with Emily’s dad, Mike heard the sound of shoes plodding their way downstairs.  He moved his gaze to Emily and her cousin Ashley, and all three stood up to meet their arrival in the living room.  Emily had not lied about her cousin. Ashley was blessed with beautiful blonde hair, sultry blue eyes, a warm and kind smile and tanned skin.  

Emily introduced Ashley to the boys, and her dad excused himself, but gave Josh a forewarning look before heading upstairs.  The four exchanged pleasantries and then piled into Josh’ SUV, heading toward a multiplex on the south shore of Nassau County.  While Josh and Emily spoke in the front seat, Mike was hoping three things. First, that the movie Josh had chosen was not geared toward eight year olds.  Second, that his “date” with Ashley, which was starting off smoothly, didn’t take an abrupt downward turn. Third, and most important, that the contents of the CVS bag, which had stealthily been tossed into the trunk by Josh, didn’t offend Emily to the point where Josh again would be forced to sojourn home in his underwear.

After the movie was over, the girls were forced to wait on the mile long ladies room line, allowing Josh to formulate their next move.  “Okay, Mike, the girls will be gone for awhile. How did it go with Ashley?”

“As far as movie watching goes, it went well.”

“Did you get a vibe from her?  Any indication that she is receptive?”

“Well, Josh, at one point our fingers grazed as we simultaneously plunged our hands into the popcorn bucket and exchanged a quick look.  Other than that, it was mostly staring at the movie screen. But it wasn’t a disaster. Are we going to the diner now?”

Josh took a brief glance at the ladies room line.  “No, I say we go to the beach. We can go to one of the small private ones.  At this hour we can park for free.”

Mike was caught off guard.  “I thought we were going to eat after the movie.”

“Trust me, Mike, the girls will love it.”

Mike was not really in a position to argue, and when the girls agreed, how could he object?  They left the movie theatre and took the eight-mile ride to a local beach in Seaford, on Nassau County’s south shore.

When they arrived, Mike and Ashley got out of the SUV, but Josh and Emily stayed in the front.  Mike approached Josh’s rolled down window and asked what was going on.

“You two go on ahead, and we’ll catch up with you later,” Josh Said.  “We’re going to stay behind and talk awhile.” Before Mike could respond Josh tore out of his parking spot almost out of sight, to a darker and more secluded area of the lot.

Mike was left behind with nothing to do but stare at the Jeep Grand Cherokee as it disappeared into the distance.  Ashley was caught by surprise as well. “Why’d they drive away so fast?” she inquired.

“I guess they needed some alone time,” Mike said in an awkward and uncomfortable tone.  “Would you like to walk on the beach, or do you prefer the ambiance of this poorly lit parking lot filled with Doritos wrappers and crushed out cigarettes?”

Ashley laughed.  “Sure, a walk on the beach would be nice.”

A half moon lit up this mild June evening.  Mike and Ashley removed their shoes to allow the sugar-like sand to work its magic between their toes.  The two walked and talked, eventually reaching water’s edge, and stood taking it all in. A gentle, salty breeze complimented the rhythm of the waves.  The breaking surf lapped against their toes.

“I can’t believe we’ll both be going to Manhattan College next year,” said Mike.  

“I’m glad,” stated Ashley.  “At least I will know someone who goes there.”

“Ironically, my brother Brad goes there too, but you’ll not run into him unless you’re participating in a wet T-shirt contest.”

“Oh, he’s one of those,” said Ashley.

“He’s really a great guy.  A little nuts, especially when it comes to girls.   Brad collects them like my Dad collects frustration.”

“You’re a unique guy, Mike.  I feel bad about your Dad, and am impressed that you’ve not allowed him to beat you down.  Also, I appreciate a guy who is not always out to hit a home run.”

“I’ve never even been up to bat,” quipped Mike.  “It’s hard for me to explain.”

The two found a large rock jetting out of the water and relaxed on it.  Ashley said, “I have to admit, I was surprised when they drove off, but this is much nicer.  Just sitting here and talking. Most of the guys I know wouldn’t be satisfied with just talking, with no other expectation.”

“I’m not like that.”

“I know you’re not that type of guy.” Ashley leaned in to give Mike a kiss, but his body tensed, his mind unwilling or unable to reciprocate.  She pulled back slowly.

“Can I ask you a question, Mike and hopefully it won’t be too weird.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“No, I’m not.  Do you mean you want to go out with me again?”

“I would, but that’s not why I am asking, and I get the feeling it’s not what you really want.  But I’d like to be friends.”

“What do you mean, Ashley, what are you talking about?”

Ashley paused as a wave broke on the rock, spritzing them with water.  They both instinctively moved back to escape a major soaking. “I would like to introduce you to my brother, Seth.  He is very similar to you. I mean, you two would have a lot in common. He’s a really nice guy, just like you. I think that you guys would hit it off.”

Mike felt the beauty of the night in his soul, as well as the beauty of the moment.  He also felt the weight of years of living a lie slowly washing away. Ashley rested her left hand over Mike’s quivering right arm.  “It’s okay, Mike, I promise. Just relax. You can be yourself with me.”

Mike was grateful and overwhelmed, and felt a tear forming in the corner of his left eye.  His gaze moved from the midnight sky to Ashley’s seductive indigo blue eyes, eyes that were as blue as the salt water that was surging around them.  With his rapid breathing now under control and his body steadying, he responded, “Thanks Ashley, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!

 

 

 





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

The Fight

Tiger Strikowski laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of Madison Square Garden.  Blood spewed from both of his nostrils, and his left eye was closing up. The reigning Middleweight champion had been knocked to the canvas courtesy of a left cross to his head and a right uppercut that pulverized his jaw.  Tiger raised his head briefly to hazily see the referee ushering Kenny Williams to a neutral corner.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped back on the mat.  Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard the referee counting, “One, Two, Three..”, as well as a combination of boos and jeers from an unhappy crowd, most of whom probably counted on this championship fight lasting longer than one round.  Some of the more bloodthirsty fans stood and yelled for Tiger to pull his sorry ass up to continue to absorb his challenger’s assault. Worse, the flash of cell phones captured the only time in his career he had been knocked down.

Strikowski staggered to his feet and was immediately met by the business end of Williams’ right hand.  He held onto Williams to thwart another encounter with the canvas, and as the referee separated them, the glorious and merciful sound of the bell ended Round 1.  Tiger staggered to his corner, until he realized it was the wrong corner. His trainer, Gys, guided him to a stool, soaked some blood from his face and spritzed water in his mouth.

“What the hell’s goin’ on out there, Tiger, he’s givin’ you a freakin’ beating”, yelled Gus over the roar of the crowd.

“I don’t know, Gus,” Tiger moaned.  “He’s really strong. Quick too. I can’t keep him off me.”  

“You’d better start to move better out there or I’ll be having dinner a lot earlier than I thought.  You’ll be sipping it through a straw or having round the clock IVs. Now get on your toes, slip his punches and counter-punch.  Use your quick jabs. Keep him off balance.”

Tiger raised his right glove to acknowledge receipt of Gus’ message, too exhausted and fuzzy to comment or argue.  

The sound of the bell for Round 2 was a jackhammer to the champ’s brain.  He ambled from his corner, his gloves resting at his sides, his gaze trying to focus on the charging Kenny Williams.  The reigning number one contender landed two punches to Tiger’s face before he could raise his gloves to protect himself.  Fearing that the next punch would knock him into next week, the champ put both arms around Williams’ waist and pulled the challenger to him.  Before the referee could break them apart, Williams said something to Tiger, which sent him into a frenzy.

As the two fighters were back in the middle of the ring, Tiger pummeled Williams with a flurry of punches to his head, face and body.  Williams struggled to keep his hands up to stave off the barrage, and was close to being knocked down when the bell sounded, ending Round 2.

A smiling Gus jumped into the ring with a wet sponge, which he rang out over Tiger’s head.

“Much, much better champ,” he yelled.  “I thought you might have had him. Follow that up in Round 3 and you’ll put him away.”

Tiger scanned the crowd to find a face staring at him.  He was half listening to Gus’ final instructions when that ominous look from the third row said more to him than his trainer.

The champ pushed himself off his stool, one eye on his opponent and the other eye focused on a certain spectator.  

Round 3 began slowly as both boxers were exhausted.  As the pace picked up, Williams caught Tiger with a combination to his ribs and stomach, forcing the champ to go down on his right knee, gasping for air.  His ears were pierced by a cacophony of deafening yelling and screaming. He rose to his feet before the ref reached a ten count.

The challenger continued to pound Tiger until he couldn’t keep his gloves or his head up.  Strikowski was a statue against the ropes, his feet were motionless and his wobbly legs could no longer support his 160 pound frame.  A powerful uppercut sent Tiger to the deck. He was down, then counted out. The ref raised Kenny Williams’ hand, signifying him as the new Middleweight champ.  After 30 fights, this was his first defeat.

Gus and Tiger’s corner men helped him from the canvas onto a stool.  They consoled him as he covered his face with his boxing gloves. The new champ came over to congratulate Tiger for being such a great champion.  The former champ forced himself up and embraced Williams, congratulating him on a great fight and wishing him well. Both pugilists then made their way to their locker rooms for some rest and medical attention.

Tiger had lost his cherished Middleweight championship belt, and was not in a talking mood in the dressing room.  Gus and Dr. Rosen attended to him, then left the area to afford Tiger some privacy.

Strikowski laid back on the examining table with so much ice on him the Titanic would be in danger.  His left eye closed up, his right eye on its way there. Both hands were swelled up like balloons. He tried to get a few minutes of sleep, attempting to put his loss and his physical pain in the rear view mirror.

The silence of the room was broken by the sound of shoes striking the dressing room floor.  Tiger forced his right eye open, his left eye remained stubbornly closed. He recognized the blank stare of the fan from the third row.  

“Hi, Tiger.  How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, what’s it to you?”

“I saw that beating you took.”  

“Yeah, I saw you sitting in the third row.”

“I would usually sit in the front row, but you know how hard it is getting blood out of silk.  I just wanted to make sure that we were still on for our meeting later on.”

“I should really go to the hospital,” said Tiger, “but I’ll be there, as promised.”

“That’s all I need to know.  See you soon.”

Tiger propped himself up to a sitting position.  When Gus came back into the dressing room, Tiger explained that he needed to make a quick stop, and then he would be back.  He waved his hand at his trainer’s insistence that they should get to the hospital immediately.

Strikowski let the hot water pulsate over him in the shower, attempting to soothe each aching muscle and swollen joint.  He dressed quickly, throwing on a hooded sweatshirt, sweatpants and a Giants winter jacket, left Madison Square Garden unobserved with the help of a security guard, and headed for 41st and 10th, behind the Federal Express building.  

The cool November air hit his warm facial wounds.  Tiger squinted his puffy eyes as he adjusted to the moonlit night.  He picked up his pace as he saw the meeting place approaching.

Tiger waited a few minutes until Frank Pallone arrived, wearing a stylish long gray overcoat over his blue Italian silk suit.  Pallone yanked at his cuffs and adjusted his gold cufflinks. He approached Tiger with an envelope, which he slid into his inside jacket pocket.  

“It’s all here, Frank, $50,000, as you promised?”

“Everything I say, by definition, is a promise,” replied Pallone.

“I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t try any bullshit.”

“That’s not the way my organization operates.  But speaking of which, I thought that we were going to have a problem in the second round.  You almost knocked Williams out, Tiger. That would have disappointed me. I don’t handle disappointment well.  I may have gotten very unpleasant.”

“Williams got out of line.  A little trash talking is part of the game, but he crossed the line.  He said something about my wife. I wanted to kill him right there in the ring, but I thought better of it.  Anyway, he apologized to me later. He’s an okay guy.”

“That was a wise choice, Tiger, and I understand your anger.  Family is sacred to my culture. Mr. Williams may have received a worse fate if he had insulted my family, especially if I had a wife who was dying, God Forbid.”

The temperature was dropping on this cold November night, and Tiger was ready to wrap up this little get together.  He placed his hands in his pockets and addressed Pallone firmly.

“Just so we understand each other, Frank, the only reason I agreed to your scheme is because my wife’s terminal.  Hanna wants to live out whatever time she has left in her own home. She requires round the clock care, nurses, aids, medicine, the whole bit.  And she’ll get that. She’ll get anything she needs or wants.”

“Of course she will, Frank.  She is a courageous woman and deserves the best.”

“Spare me the Pope of Greenwich Village act, Pallone.  You approached me because you knew my situation. You knew I was vulnerable.  It killed me to tank it tonight, to not put up any real fight. Williams is a good fighter, no doubt.  He’s a climber, but he’s not ready for the big stage yet. But you and your buddies wanted your big payday, and I needed some extra cash.”

“I know that losing the title is tough, Tiger, but consider the big picture.  And nobody says that you can’t get it back. I’m sure Williams can be spoken to, that he may play ball.”

“He’s a good kid, Frank, with a real legitimate future.  Don’t make him a pawn in this crap, don’t crush the kid.”

“As much I appreciate your input, Tiger, please don’t ever tell me what I can or can’t do.”

Tiger pursed his lips together with such force that they disappeared.  

“Well, there’s one thing I can tell you Frank.  I’m out, do you understand, no more of this shit for me.  Tonight will be our last meeting.”

“That disappoints me, champ.  Excuse me, former champ. I thought we had covered that subject earlier.  But I’ll chalk up your rash decision and rude demeanor to your having a bad night, similar to your fortunes in the ring earlier.”

Pallone pulled a pistol from his pocket and aimed it at Tiger.  “This is just my way of being satisfied that I can count on your full cooperation, until it is deemed no longer in our best interest.”

Tiger had anticipated Pallone being less than satisfied with his news.  His right hand was still firmly planted in pocket, resting on the trigger of his pistol.  He did not plan on the night ending this way, but he was prepared for it. If Pallone persisted, he would find out what four years in the military had done for Tiger’s shooting skill.

Suddenly the stalemate and the silence were shattered by a loud bang which penetrated Tiger’s soul.  He checked himself to see if he had been hit, but there was no blood on him. However, Frank Pallone began splattering blood, let out a blood-curdling moan and fell face first to the street.  

Tiger looked up to see pistol smoke hovering in the cold night air, behind it stood Kenny Williams, a gun at his side.  Tiger’s eyes expanded and his mouth flew open, but nothing came out.

“Don’t say anything, Tiger.  I followed that asshole when I saw him following you at 34th Street.  I knew the score tonight, that you were not yourself.  I figured it was a set-up, and I also figure that it wouldn’t be long until I had a visitor with a plan in mind.  I’ve seen Pallone and his pals hanging around my fights lots of times.”

“I don’t know what to say, Kenny.  You see, I have a family situation…”

Williams cut Tiger off.  “I heard most of what you guys were saying.  I get the gist and I am sorry. Just promise me that if I give you a rematch I’ll get your best.”

The long and violent night had taken a toll on Tiger, leaving him drained and fatigued.  He could only muster a quick nod of agreement.

The two men shook hands silently and went there separate ways.  Tiger would eventually head back to the Garden and then to the hospital, but first he would take a five block walk home, to check on his wife.