Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
But I’m having a little trouble in this respect.
I do like Dog and all the other guys. Especially Carwash, because he’s quiet and when we spar, he doesn’t dance around and shout insults at me the way Kill Bill does. But these guys, I dunno. They’re not much like me. I have them over for parties every now and then, and they invite me over in the same way. They feel more like acquaintances than friends.
But this morning, when I get there, I finally put my finger on what felt wrong when I first started spending time here. “Hey,” I say, looking at Dog. “Whatever happened to that other guy?”
“What other guy?”
“The rude one. Remember? He was talking shit to me that first night we met.”
“Oh, Snake Eyes?” Dog laughs.
“Yeah. Him. Whatever happened to him?”
“He took off. He was an asshole anyway. Always puffed up and trying to prove something. We got tired of him and he didn’t come back after that night.”
“Huh.” I don’t say any more. Just do my leg reps.
But I leave the gym a couple hours early and start walking north until I get to Sixteenth and Lenox. There is no gym on that corner when I get there, but then I remember that Dog was teasing Snake Eyes about the gym being in the back of an upholstery shop. And sure enough, right in front of me, there’s an upholstery shop.
I walk over to it, pull the door open, and stop at the counter. It’s empty. But there’s a doorbell taped to the counter that says ‘Ring for Service,’ so I ring.
It takes about a minute, but a man appears. Older, wearing a white muscle shirt, and dabbing his forehead with a black handkerchief because it’s hot as fucking hell in this place. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah… I’m lookin’ for… Miguel. Is he around?”
The old dude narrows his eyes at me. “Who’s asking?”
“Dead Eyes.” I figure he probably doesn’t know me as Eason.
The guy—the uncle, I think—he tips his chin up and then goes in the back without a word.
I catch a bit of conversation in Spanish and then there he is. Snake Eyes. All frowny and that chip still firmly on his shoulder. He sneers at me as he comes out from behind the counter. “What the hell do you want?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking that you and I are probably related.”
“What?” He’s not amused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know. Since we have the same last name and all.”
“What?” And then… then he gets it. His face changes. A small smile turns into a chuckle, and then he’s laughing and slapping me on the back. “Pendejo.” But he’s still laughing. “You’re dumb.”
“I probably am. Probably not worth your time, cousin.” This makes Miguel shake his head. “But family is family, ya know? We should probably stick together.”
I don’t know Miguel’s story, but I don’t need to know Miguel’s story. When you carry a chip like that into adulthood, there’s a reason for it.
And I think he’s my people.
EPILOGUE
Maart - One Year Later
It’s easy to forget how humid it is in Rio. Easy to fall into the dryness of the Las Vegas desert. But as soon as I get off the plane, it hits me. The air is heavy here, thick with water. And I find that, even though I probably don’t come from Brazil originally, it’s home. And I love it.
The boys and I went our separate ways back in America. Even Evard this time. He’s eighteen now, so there’s nothing left for Cort and I to do but set him loose. He and Budi are taking a road trip across the country. Probably gonna stop in and see Irina and her little family before they’re done. And then, hopefully, they’ll come home.
But I have my doubts.
Paulo and Maeko are already going their separate ways. Paulo has a girl in LA now. He’s gonna be training with Eason’s old partners for a few months before making up his mind what he wants to do.
Does he want to be a fighter for the rest of his life?
I don’t think so. What more does he need to prove? He’s twenty-two years old and just successfully defended his belt. He’s got it made. He should take that money and run. He should shake his whole identity and be something else. See the world. Meet people. Fall in love. Have a family. The ring—even this legitimate one he fights in now—is not much of a life.
Maeko seems to be going cold on fighting as well. He lost his fight, and his title, this time around. But I saw it coming. He just wasn’t serious enough. If you’re not hungry for it, someone else is. That’s just how this sport goes. He was at the airport with me when I left Vegas, getting on a plane, but not the one coming home. He was on his way to Japan. What he’s looking for there, I’ve got no idea. But I hope he finds it.