Russell Knight is not your average geek. Sure, he may seem like the quiet, shy, and vulnerable guy in school. But there is far more to Russel than meets the eye.
At just 10 years old, Russell had already gone through the heartache of losing both of...
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Sam
I woke up to an empty bed at the hotel. Russell had probably gotten up early to go train. He's been training hard for the last three days non-stop. His uncle Caleb has been so harsh with him. He has a dirty mouth, cursing and yelling at everyone. He surely doesn't care about leaving a good impression on anyone.
To make matters worse, Uncle Fred and Caleb have been eyeing each other with deadly stares. I don't get it, they're brothers. Family. Yet- they seem to despise each other. I was sure they had already faced each other somewhere else. I got a glance at the red mark on Caleb's left cheek, most likely from Fred's hook to his face. He of course played it off when Russell asked him about it. Told him to focus on his own problems if he wanted to keep his sponsorship.
Fred kept it from us as well, brushing it off, and changing the conversation each time Russell brings it up. That was- until last night though.
Andrew finally answered back one of many missed calls. We were out having dinner. He begged Russell to put his uncle on the line and when he did, Uncle Fred got up quickly and went outside to speak with him. They were out there for nearly an hour if not longer. Afterward, he came back and handed the phone back to Russell. He told him not to worry, that he'd be here for the night of the fight.
Of course, he apologized to him for not being here and for his dad's behavior. He assured us that things would be ok soon.
But our awkwardness only increases at the table as Caleb makes his way to our table and takes a seat between Phoebe and me. He smiles, winking at her, making her look away, and acts as if she needs to gag. "Look, kid. Let's cut the bullshit. By now, you already know that I'm your uncle. Right?" he tells Russell, making us exchange worried looks.
"Right. So," he says, hitting the table with a slap and waving down a waiter. "Scotch, on the rocks," he says to the waiter and turns back to us. "Look, here is the deal," he says, getting cut off by Fred. "What the fuck you mean deal, Caleb? Don't come with that bullshit." he talks with a heavier Southern draw. It's like he gets more Southerner the more he's mad.
"Fred, you stay out. Or so help me," he warns him, and Fred fists his hand, hitting the table and making the silver-wear clang. "Fucking asshole." Fred seethes with anger. "As I was saying. Russ, son,"
"I'm not your son," Russell says nonchalantly, tilting his head as his arm rests on the back of my seat. "Look. You wanna hear my proposition, or not?" he says, looking between the two. He then places his hand on my lap, making me move away quickly. "Ladies, would you mind? This is a man's only conversation," he says, smiling and winking at us. I hate to leave Russell, but I sigh, standing up and kissing his cheek as Phoebe and I leave the table.
I have no clue what was said, and I can only hope they don't end at each other's throats. Three hours later, an exhausted Phoebe and I as we sit by the bar, refusing drinks from random Joe's; and three angry looking men walk out of that table, and we finally go to bed.
