BRAWLER [under contract]

chapter ten | RECOVERY

Rylee's eyes fluttered open for a moment, filtering in the dim light around him. There was an unforgiving pain in his neck and shoulders, keeping him weighted down on the bed. Fighting through the stabbing pain running through his muscles, he managed to push himself up into the sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and looked towards the blurry outline of the door, and,for a split second, he couldn't remember where he was. Pockets of memories blinked in and out of his mind, and he began piecing together the events of yesterday. He remembered Skip guiding him down a noisy hallway and into a circle of unfamiliar faces. He remembered the scattered voices of the crowd and the intimidating voice of his last rival. Did he win?

That part he couldn't remember.

Groaning, he stood up slowly and limped over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. His left thigh had been badly bruised and from an illegal kick in the ring, most likely. Keeping the weight balanced on his good side, Rylee found his reflection and observed the damage done. The left side of his face was a dark shade of red and his right eye sported a dark purple blotch. His bottom lip had been cracked and dried blood had caked over the wound during the night. He looked down at his hands. His stomach twisted at the painful sight. The knuckles were split and peeled down to the second layer of skin and his fists and wrists were swollen from the repetitive force he drove through them. His jaw was inflamed, making something as simple as swallowing, a tedious, unpleasant action. As he examined the rest of his war wounds, the door opened and Smitty walked in with a pen light.

"Hey, you're up? How you feelin'?"

"I'm alright," Rylee replied quietly as he watched Smitty click the light to life and flick it in and out of his line of vision.

"What's your dog's name?" Smitty asked.

"How did you know I had a dog?"

"Skip told me when I updated him on our last check-up. How do you feel?"

"Tired."

"Well, the medic came in last night, you were so tired, you probably don't remember. But, he said you're alright and that you suffered a minor concussion, but nothing that'll keep you out of the next fight. You're a tough kid, that's for sure."

Rylee managed a smile and moistened his lips. He took to staring at the ground, a habit he had when he couldn't find the immediate words. He let a moment of silence come between them before he spoke up. "Am I really that good? Isn't there always someone better?"

"Listen, lad, you're the best we've seen. Skip has always gone on about finding someone with 'the magic eye', but every young boy he's pulled in here didn't have it. I think he thought he found it several times, but I was always his second opinion. I don't think you know you're this good. The lads out there, the ones who have been doing this for years, came up and told me they haven't seen someone like yourself."

"Why? What makes me good? I feel like I'm just throwing punches and struggling and everythin'."

"Yes, I'm sure you feel like that because you haven't had the proper training. But the thing is, at this developed stage, should I say, you've got the natural finesse of someone who's been boxing for years. What you think is your worst stage, is actually a high level. I know you feel incapable, and I'm sorry we're putting you through this, but just trust us."

"What's in it for all of you? Money?"

Smitty smiled and said candidly, "Of course. When is it not? But you get the fair share of winnings. Me, Skip, and whoever else joins us, gets a little. So what if you're the poster boy of boxing or commercialized a little bit? It's part of the entertainment world."

Rylee began questioning his abilities and confidence as the Scotsman raved on and on about star popularity. He began wondering if he was the person they were truly looking for. Stardom was one thing Rylee seldom dreamt of.

"You're entertaining to people, whether on TV or on the streets," Smitty continued. " And people are willing to throw raw money at your feet. I've been in the business long enough to know that there's some selling on your dignity to climb the ladder."

"I understand, I do. I just don't like it. I enjoy boxing because it's the one thing I feel like I could be really good at."

"Just trust ol' Skipper, alright? And listen, I can help with your schooling. Just get your mum or dad over here in the next few days and we can sign more papers and I can tell them how it works. I'll be travelling with you if you agree to me being your 'tutor'."

"Really? What about manning the club?"

"Ah, I've got other people beneath me who can keep it running while I'm gone. But I promised Skipper if he found 'the one', I'd do anything to help him succeed. It's been his dream, you know, to successfully build a champion." Smitty grabbed a nearby folding chair and straddled it, arms crossed over the backrest.

Rylee was impressed at how easy it was to understand the bloke-- some native speakers from Scotland, those with thicker accents, were commonly hard to understand. Smitty's oratory skills were unmatched and the energy he delivered forced the attention of anyone who was within earshot. "Charming" was definitely an understatement for the Scotsman.

"But don't you worry, lad, all will work itself out."

"I hope so, " Rylee commented softly.

"Listen,I know it must look like Skip is in it for himself, but he's actually not. Not entirely. He really wants someone to succeed and live a good life with great memories. You see, he didn't have a good life. His father was mean and didn't show him a good father figure and I think Skip just wanted to treat someone else like he would have wished to have been treated. That's why he's been so good to you. And he's talked highly of you, too."

Rylee narrowed his eyes and made a small huff. "Really? He barely knows me."

"There's not much to guess. If anyone is good at understanding people it would be Skip. Please don't think he's taking advantage of your youth or anything. Sometimes it may look like that, but business is business. But you gotta trust him, alright?"

"I just don't like how, you know, he handled things in the ring. I can't be thrown off like that."

"He has to try different moves before finding one that works, so forgive him." Smitty grunted as he stood up from the chair. Stretching and yawning, he glanced at his wristwatch. "God, it's too early for this shite. I'm going to bed. Rest up and think about the whole schooling thing."

"Thanks. I really appreciate everythin' you and Skip are doing for me. I didn't think anyone would do this for me."

Smitty gave him a warm smile. "Listen, you're a good kid. I think you keep forgetting that. Night!" With that, Smitty left the room, closing the door ever so gently so as not to wake up anyone else who was staying over.

Rylee returned to his bed and snuggled down into the cot. He looked up at the ceiling and reflected on his new life. Even though he was homesick, he truly wanted to try his best and not let Skip down. He knew he could only improve if he allowed other people into his life. And it seemed as if he was finally worth someone's time.