Worth the Chance

Chapter 22

Vince

I blow through three sparring partners in less than an hour. I’m so pumped full of adrenaline, I feel like I could take Nico at this point. Jumping up and down on the balls of my feet wearing nothing but my headgear and a pair of shorts, I impatiently wait for Nico to fasten the next victim’s headgear. I’ve seen the guy around the gym. He sucks. Normally I could take him with a few jabs and two heavy leg strikes, but I’m not feeling normal today. I’m wired. Without any extracurricular help to get this way.

“Come on, it’s taking you longer to get his headgear on than he’s going to last in the ring.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself, kid.” Nico responds, but I can tell he’s enjoying himself, taking pride in how good I look today. He doesn’t really mind my arrogance. Mostly because he’s full of himself, too.

My fourth sparring partner finally gets in the ring and shit was I wrong. I must have overthought it. Underestimated myself. It only took me one strike and one jab and he’s splayed out on the floor. So much for light sparring.

Nico laughs and shakes his head. Extending his arm to the poor guy on the floor. “What am I going to do with you today?”

Still bouncing, I respond hastily. “Get me a real partner.”

Nico looks around, there are a few guys working out, none of them even close to a contender. Raising both arms from at his sides, he responds in question, “Who?”

“You.”

He laughs. “I don’t think so, kid.” He begins to climb out of the sparring ring.

“You afraid?” I yell loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the gym. It’s gonna take some assistance to get him to do this.

Nico turns and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t ask for things you can’t handle, Vinny.”

“Not sure who’s the one that can’t handle it anymore, old man.”

The guys that were working out stop what they’re doing and respond with a series of oohs and aahs, a couple of “you gonna take that Nico” thrown in for good measure.

“Give me your headgear.” Nico turns to my last sparring partner then back to me. “Don’t say I didn’t try to walk away.”

Smiling, I bounce around the full perimeter of the ring, putting on a big show for the muscle heads that have stopped to watch us.

Headgear on, Nico lifts his hands and faces me, a smirk on his face, “You’ve had this coming for a long time. This is gonna be fun.” And then he strikes. Unexpected, hard and fast…he connects with my ribs. I stumble back two steps but somehow manage to stay on my feet.

So I respond, winding up for a roundhouse kick that lands on Nico’s shoulder. The sheer momentum from the windup catches Nico off guard and he stumbles, forced back three steps, his back hitting the rope as he struggles to stay on his feet. I expect him to lunge at me, but then he stops cold. I trace his line of sight and find Elle, one hand on the bottom of her belly, her face showing signs of distress.

“Nico…I think it’s time.”

“Shit.” Hopping over the ropes in one swoop, he tosses me the keys as he lands next to Elle. “Pull the car around, Vinny.”

Once inside, Elle doesn’t want Nico to let go of her, so I drive them to the hospital, both of them in the backseat, chauffeur style. It’s a quick ride, even quicker when you drive twenty-five over the speed limit. We arrive at St. Joseph’s and Nico and I both run around to help Elle out of the car. None of us even notice the engine’s still running and three doors are left open. Nico speaks to the admitting desk and they tell us to take a seat, it’s going to be a few minutes before the doctor can take Elle in.

Contractions subsiding, Elle sits in a chair and looks up between me and Nico, flanked on either side of her, standing. Looming. A big goofy smile on her face quickly turns to laughter. “Do you two realize what you two look like?”

I look between myself and Nico for the first time, realizing we’re both wearing nothing but shorts. No shoes, no shirts. Just two jacked fighters, a sixteen pack between us, hovering over a very pregnant Elle. Looking around the room, I find all eyes on us. Nico and I join Elle in her fit of laughter.

Three hours later, we’re all back at the gym. Braxton Hicks contractions or some shit like that, otherwise known as false labor. I grab my bag and say goodnight to Elle with a kiss on the cheek. “I know you threw that labor. Saw us fighting and didn’t want your washed up, has-been of a husband getting embarrassed in his own gym.” I smile and Elle smiles back, shaking her head.