So that X may see everything.
So that I will be unable to escape his judging gaze.
Spencer grabs X’s face, “You don’t trust me?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You don’t trust me.”
“If you imply that I don’t trust him, no I don’t. Why would I?”
Pretending to move X’s taped mouth, “You don’t trust me.”
“Listen, this can’t end well. And, really, how did you even manage it?”
“Nurse your wounds. Leave it to me. You don’t need to understand everything.” Spencer punches X in the stomach. X makes little more than a muffled noise.
“This is insurance.”
INSURANCE?
Another punch. That one had to hurt.
“Makes for a good training dummy! Try it!”
Clenching my fists, I stand there, aware of what this means. Willem Floures cannot simply disappear. People will notice.
They might have already noticed.
“Don’t you find that to be a problem?”
Spencer shrugs, “You are the one that killed a man.”
“I didn’t kill a man!”
Switching to the tone he saves for lectures, Spencer steps into the ring with me, “But you said it. We made it so. The media believed it. They believed it. Doesn’t matter if it’s fact or fiction. They believed it!”
“They are going to be looking for him…”
THAT’S THE POINT
Let them look.
“You want them to find worse, much worse.”
Spencer leans on the ropes, pretends to shadowbox.
“I do?”
YOU SAID IT
“What did I say?”
Spencer seems to understand something that I don’t and that bothers me. He’s my agent; he is supposed to drone on and keep me in the loop.
“Shouldn’t you, umm, lecture me about it or something?”
Spencer sighs, throws a few jabs, lowers his chin, gets into proper fighting stance, “You lectured me. Don’t remember?”
WHAT?
“What if I don’t?”
Spencer lowers his fists, looks over at X, “He’s here. He’s listening. If he ever gets out, you don’t want him knowing about your ‘big plan.’”
WHAT BIG PLAN?
WHAT IS GOING ON?
“Don’t act so confused, Sugar; you started it. I’m simply making sure it continues.”
Back to shadowboxing. I step in the way of one of his jabs.
It hits me right in the nose, my vision cloudy, causes me to sneeze.
Spencer plays dumb, “You can still take a punch, huh?”
“Just. Fucking. Stop. Moving. Okay?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow, “Don’t trust me?”
The way he says it, it’s like he’s hiding something. He is trying to get me to say something…but what?
I feel like I’m the only one not in on this big joke.
“What is going on, Spencer?”
“I’m not following.” He raises his fists.
I grab one, “Stop. You aren’t a fighter.”
He looks me right in the eye and says:
ARE YOU?
That one hits deep. My stomach knots and I can feel my grip tighten, crushing Spencer’s hand.
This is about the last fight.
This is about the fight before last.
This is about what’s happened the last few weeks.
This is not about me. It’s about him.
I look over at X, who is watching everything happen.
Spencer looks down at my hand gripping his wrist.
I see it in his eyes.
“Hurts huh?”
Spencer sighs, “What if it did?”
“Out with it.”
“What?”
“You are trying to blackmail me.”
LAUGHTER
I let go of his wrist.
I push him against the ropes and punch him lightly in the face.
He falls to the canvas, laughing harder than before.
“What’s so fucking funny?!”
He gags on the sting of the punch.
“Huh?!”
“Don’t you love it?”
I breathe heavily, watching Spencer climb back up to his feet.
“Don’t you love it?” He laughs right in my face. “Don’t you love the laughter?!”
THE LAUGHTER
Tears run down my face.
At the sight of them, he points and laughs, “Don’t you trust me?!”
I manage to say, after wiping away the tears, “If this is about the last fight, I did what I had to do. Sorry if I didn’t follow your strategy.”
Suddenly his face straightens and in clear monotone, Spencer says, “It has and always will be your story. I am merely a part of it.”
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
“You love the laughter,” Spencer chuckles, the laughter starting up again. He walks to the other side of the ring and points to the opposite corner.
“Let me guess, you want me to stand there.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
Oh Jesus, what the hell is this?
Whatever, fine.
I stand in the corner.
LOOKING FOR SOME ANSWERS
“The answers are right in front of you, Sugar.”
“I expect you to help me find them,” I warn him. “Otherwise, why else would I keep you around?!”
I instantly regret what I said.
But that’s too late.
THIS IS A CONVERSATION THAT’S A LONG TIME COMING
THIS IS A CONVERSATION THAT CHANGES A FRIENDSHIP
It doesn’t seem to affect Spencer. But I know him. I know how he thinks more so than I know myself.
“You don’t trust me,” Spencer announces.
He falls into a fighting stance. Approaches the middle of the ring and waits for me there, perfect posture, balled-up fists ready for a bareknuckle fight.
“I’m not going to fight you.”
“Course not,” Spencer chuckles, “you are too busy fighting yourself.”
FUCK YOU
The anger, he knows how to draw it out in long streaks of blood. It drips down the side of my still-raw, bruised face. I wipe it away, the blood drawn from punctured tongue.
I walk up to the middle of the ring.
Standing up straight, I stare him down.
Right before the first jab hits me in the left eye, he tells me, “You are only confused because you aren’t willing to accept what waits for you. Everything that happens is a joke, a big fucking joke that’s funny to no one but you. Why don’t you laugh? Why don’t you laugh, Sugar? Let loose and laugh. You are wound-up too tight! You can’t hold onto the spotlight forever!”
THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK
I look over at X, a set of eyes watching.
He throws a punch. I take it in stride.
“Why don’t you laugh?”
Another punch to the face.
“I’m laughing!”
JAB
LEFT HOOK
LEFT HOOK
JAB
I stand there, arms crossed behind my back.
Spencer reopens wounds, worsens the numbness of this battle-torn body, but I might as well feel nothing. The placebos I take are enough to trick my manic mind into thinking that I’m not feeling anything at all.
“Why don’t you laugh?”
UPPERCUT
That one almost severs my tongue, teeth digging in deep, the stitches coming loose. Mild annoyance—
I will have to return to the hospital after this.
“Huh? Why don’t you find this funny?”
Spencer punches me in the shoulder by accident.
This is where I would laugh.
I DON’T FIND IT FUNNY
He shakes his hand, wincing in pain. Checks his knuckles.
They aren’t boxer’s knuckles.
“You don’t find this funny, huh?”
This is the truth:
NO
“I don’t.”
Spencer balls up his fists, back into a fighting stance, as he sends a combination: