“That’s important, Cross.”
We climb the steps to Stanley’s office on the second floor. The wall of windows gives him an aerial view over his gym, just the way he likes it. But right now, the blinds are drawn, hiding who waits within.
Before I can enter, Stanley grasps my arm and tugs me to a halt. “What’s the one thing you need more than anything in this life, Cross?”
I stare at him. “What?”
He gives me a look. “Come on. What is your one desire?”
“A professional fight–”
“Yes!” He shakes my arm. “Hold on to that, okay? These are good guys. The offer might sound…well, I should just let them explain. I’ve already been negotiating up on your behalf.”
That’s not unusual…
“Okay,” I agree.
“Okay,” he echoes.
He releases me and opens the door, leading the way inside. There are two men seated on the couch along the right wall. They’re both in forms of business casual. They wear slacks and dress shoes, but one has a black polo shirt, the kind golfers would wear, and the other is in a pale-blue button-down.
That doesn’t give me much to go on. There are no logos on their clothing, and the dress-shirt guy has a briefcase at his feet. The other one has propped his ankle up on his other knee, but he drops it, and both rise at our entrance.
“This is Cross Lopez,” Stanley introduces. “Cross, these are colleagues of mine, Jason and Alex Webber.”
Brothers, then.
“Nice to meet you, Cross,” Polo Shirt Guy says. “I’m Alex.”
“Jason,” the other one adds.
They both shake my hand, then Stanley motions to the upright chair that sits facing his desk.
“Pull that over,” he says. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I do, and Stanley settles his frame into the lone armchair. I sit up straight and try to get my attention off the sweat drenching my shirt. I didn’t notice it until right this second, under their scrutiny.
And suddenly, my hope rachets higher. He asked me what I wanted. Are they going to give that to me? My chest tightens. I press my lips together so I don’t blurt out my questions.
“We’ve heard a great deal about you, Cross,” Jason says. “From Stanley and from others. Good things. Impressive things.”
I glance at the gym owner, who’s still smiling, and nod carefully. “Thank you, sir.”
“Because of this, we think you’d be a perfect fit for an upcoming fight.” Alex holds up his hands. “Now, it’s still in the same format as before. It’s still not sanctioned. However, if you can do this for us, we can guarantee you a match against Wilmer Fox.”
My jaw drops.
Wilmer Fox is a rising star in the fighting world. I think even my mom knows who this kid is. And he’s only twenty-three, two years older than me, and he’s practically a household name.
“Name the day, and I’ll be there,” I promise. “I’ll beat anyone you put me up against.”
Alex and Jason exchange a look.
My stomach knots. Did I say something wrong?
“The problem is…” Alex meets my gaze. His light-blue eyes hold no warmth for me, no kindness, but there is an honesty there. “We don’t want you to win.”
My shoulders hike. “Excuse me?”
