Chapter 2 - I DON’T THROW FIGHTSCole did not believe him.
Not at first.
His father, Jack Maddox, had been many things.
Difficult.
Proud.
Bad with money.
Terrible at expressing affection.
But dishonest?
Cole could not make those pieces fit.
“He never fought professionally in Vegas.”
Frank looked away.
“Yes, he did.”
“No.”
“Before you were old enough to remember.”
Cole stepped closer.
“My father fought club cards in Phoenix.”
“That’s what he told your mother.”
Cole stared.
Frank continued.
“Jack had eight professional fights under another manager.”
“Why would he hide that?”
“Because the last one ruined him.”
Cole’s heartbeat changed.
“What happened?”
Frank moved toward the wooden table.
He ignored the briefcase.
“Ten years before he died, your father got offered a fight against a prospect named Vince Calder.”
Cole had heard that name.
Everyone in boxing had.
Calder became world champion.
Retired 31–2.
Hall of Fame discussions every year.
Frank said:
“Jack was supposed to be an easy opponent.”
“Was he?”
“No.”
A faint smile.
“Your old man could fight.”
Cole almost smiled too.
Then remembered Roman.
“What happened?”
“Jack hurt Calder in the third. Dropped him in the fourth.”
Cole stared.
“No record of that fight exists.”
“Because the commission wiped it after an investigation.”
“What investigation?”
Frank hesitated.
“Suspicious betting.”
Cole felt cold.
“Roman?”
“He was younger then. Not the man he is now. But he was involved with people running money through offshore books.”
“And Dad?”
“Roman’s people offered Jack fifty grand to lose in the seventh.”
Cole laughed once.
“My father didn’t have fifty dollars.”
“I know.”
“And?”
Frank looked at him.
“He said no.”
The room went quiet.
Cole glanced at the closed briefcase.
History.
Repeating itself.
“What happened in the fight?”
“Jack was winning.”
Cole waited.
“Then his corner stopped it.”
“My grandfather?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Frank looked ashamed.
“His trainer.”
Cole understood before Frank said more.
“Fixed?”
“Yes.”
“Against Dad’s wishes?”
“Yes.”
Cole’s hands tightened.
“So he never took the money.”
“No.”
“Then why did everyone think he threw it?”
“Because Roman made sure it looked that way.”
Cole stared.
Frank explained.
The trainer claimed Jack had agreed to a stoppage.
A witness said Jack accepted cash.
Rumors spread.
Jack’s manager abandoned him.
No major promoter would touch him.
His career ended.
Cole felt something break inside him.
All his childhood memories shifted.
His father working construction.
His father refusing to watch boxing on television.
His father drinking alone after work.
Cole once asked why he never came to amateur tournaments.
Jack answered:
“Boxing eats people.”
Cole thought he meant punches.
He had meant something else.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Shame.”
“For what? He didn’t throw the fight.”
“Doesn’t matter when everyone believes you did.”
Cole stared at Frank.
“How do you know all this?”
Frank did not answer.
Cole stepped closer.
“How?”
“I was there.”
“What were you?”
“Cutman.”
Cole’s face changed.
“You knew my father?”
“Yes.”
“For years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
Frank looked down.
“He asked me not to.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“For ten years.”
“I know.”
Cole shoved the briefcase off the table.
It hit the floor.
The locks held.
“You let me spend my entire career thinking he hated boxing.”
“He did.”
“Because of them.”
“Yes.”
“And you never thought I deserved to know?”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“Everybody says that right before admitting they lied.”
Frank flinched.
Cole paced the room.
Tomorrow was no longer simply a fight.
Roman had targeted the son of a man he once destroyed.
That was too specific to be coincidence.
Cole asked:
“Does Roman know I know?”
“No.”
“Did he know you trained my father?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would he let you train me?”
Frank’s face tightened.
“He didn’t let me.”
Cole stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“I stayed away from Roman for years.”
“And now?”
Frank looked toward the door.
“He has people everywhere.”
Cole stared at him.
“Is he involved with Mercer?”
Frank hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“I said I don’t know.”
“You knew enough to tell me to leave Vegas.”
Frank sighed.
“Roman owns pieces of promoters through people whose names never appear on paper. He finances fighters. He lends money. He controls certain sportsbooks through fronts.”
“And Mercer?”
“Maybe Roman has money tied to him.”
Cole looked at the briefcase.
“How much?”
“Could be millions.”
Cole’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
He ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
One photo.
Cole opened it.
His stomach dropped.
His younger sister Hannah stood outside a restaurant in Henderson.
The photo had been taken less than ten minutes earlier.
Underneath:
Your family should stay home tonight.
Cole’s face hardened.
Frank saw it.
“What?”
Cole showed him.
Frank went pale.
“Call her.”
Cole did.
Hannah answered immediately.
“Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“Dinner with Sarah.”
“Leave.”
“What?”
“Go home.”
“Cole, what’s wrong?”
“Leave now.”
She laughed nervously.
“You’re freaking me out.”
“I’ll explain later.”
He heard restaurant noise.
Then Hannah said:
“Okay.”
“Don’t drive alone.”
“Why?”
“Just listen to me.”
Frank watched him hang up.
“Now do you understand?”
Cole looked toward the belts.
His entire life had been built around one belief.
A fighter controls what happens when the bell rings.
Roman was showing him the bell did not matter.
The next message came.
Unknown number.
Midnight.
Cole stared at it.
Frank whispered:
“Take the money.”
Cole turned.
“What?”
“Take it.”
“You serious?”
“Tomorrow, go down.”
Cole stepped toward him.
“You just told me my father refused.”
“And look what it cost him.”
Cole stared.
Frank’s eyes filled.
“He lost boxing. He lost himself. Eventually he lost your mother. You want to repeat that?”
Cole answered quietly:
“No.”
Frank looked relieved.
May you like
Then Cole continued:
“I’m finishing what he couldn’t.”
Related Stories
