Chapter 7 - Jake’s Win That Wasn’t Supposed To Happen
Jake met me in an empty practice room.
I closed the door.
“What's the fourth?”
He stared.
“You talked to Mason.”
“Yes.”
“Then he should've told you.”
“He told me it was yours.”
Jake laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“What happened?”
He sat on the edge of the mat.
“Atlantic City.”
I remembered.
Two years ago.
Jake beat a heavily favored fighter named Omar Hayes by decision.
Best win of Jake's career.
The one promoters still showed in his introduction package.
“What did Mason do?”
Jake looked at his hands.
“He didn't change my opponent.”
“Then what?”
“He knew Omar was leaving his gym after the event.”
“So?”
“Omar's coach hated him for it.”
I waited.
“Mason told the coach that if Omar won, he'd have more leverage with the promotion.”
“That sounds true.”
“It was.”
Jake looked up.
“He also told the coach if Omar lost, maybe he'd come back asking for help.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did his coach sabotage him?”
“No.”
“What did Mason do?”
“Got inside the coach's head.”
“How?”
“He kept asking whether Omar really deserved the full corner after walking out on them.”
I stared.
Jake continued.
“Omar's coach didn't abandon him. He still cornered.”
“But?”
“He was cold. Bare minimum. Didn't argue a bad call. Didn't push between rounds.”
“Jake.”
“I know.”
“Did you know before?”
“No.”
“When did you learn?”
“After.”
“What did you do?”
Jake looked embarrassed.
“I didn't give the win back.”
“You couldn't.”
“No.”
“I mean—”
“I know what you mean.”
He stood.
“I kept it.”
There was no clean alternative.
No magical way to erase a decision win.
But he had kept using that fight to market himself.
Just like I kept using Phoenix.
Jake said:
“Mason didn't fix my fight.”
“No.”
“He changed the temperature around it.”
That phrase fit.
I hated it.
“Why tell me Denver but not Atlantic City?”
He looked away.
“Because Denver made me look used.”
“And Atlantic City makes you look like you benefited.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
A person's memory gets selective fastest around their own advantage.
I sat against the wall.
“Why are you still with Mason?”
Jake didn't answer immediately.
“Because he saved me.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You don't get to tell me that.”
Fair.
“Then explain.”
Jake exhaled.
“My dad died when I was twenty-three. I stopped training. Stopped paying rent. Stopped answering everybody.”
I hadn't known.
“Mason drove to my apartment every morning for two weeks.”
That sounded like Mason.
“He got me working kids' classes.”
Also Mason.
“He lent me money.”
Also Mason.
“I owe him years of my life.”
“You don't.”
Jake smiled sadly.
“I know that intellectually.”
He looked toward the door.
“Doesn't feel that way.”
We sat in silence.
Then I asked:
“What did Mason ask you to do last night besides Leah?”
Jake's face changed.
“There.”
“What?”
“That is the part nobody has talked about.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he ask?”
Jake lowered his voice.
“To withdraw.”
I stared.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if I withdrew too, he could say Reed Combat was pulling athletes due to internal issues. Make your removal look less targeted.”
“So you said no.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jake laughed.
“Because for once I wanted my fight to be mine.”
That was more personal than I expected.
Then:
“Mason told me if I stayed in, every old event might get reviewed.”
“Would they?”
“Probably.”
“And your record?”
He shrugged.
“Some people will decide half of it isn't real.”
“What do you think?”
Jake looked at me.
“I think I won every fight I actually fought.”
I nodded.
“So did I.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“That's not the same as saying the road was fair.”
No.
It wasn't.
A staff member knocked.
“Rachel?”
Nora's voice.
“We have a decision.”
I stood.
Jake did too.
I asked:
“About Mason?”
“About you.”
May you like
Of course.
My slap had not disappeared because his secrets were bigger.
