“Is it that obvious I don’t know what I’m doing?” I ask, settling into something resembling a stance.
“A little bit.” She settles into her own stance, hands up, weight balanced, looking completely relaxed while I feel like I’m about to take an exam I didn’t study for. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I throw my first jab and she slips it easily, her head moving just enough to let the punch slide past her ear. Not even close. The motion is almost beautiful, fluid and effortless, and my arm extends into empty air. I stumble slightly.
“First question,” Eddie calls from where he’s leaning against the ropes. “Clock’s ticking.”
I reset my stance. “What was Dominic’s gym like back then? When you knew him.”
Eddie picks at a piece of duct tape on the ring post, not looking at me. “The man ran that place like a military operation. Nothing got past him.”
I throw another jab. Maria dodges again, her body flowing away from my fist like water around a stone. She makes it look so easy, like she’s not even trying.
“Did Dominic know about the PEDs?”
Eddie shrugs, but his eyes flick away from mine. A tell. Years of interviews have taught me to recognize when someone’s not giving me the whole truth.
“That’s what everyone assumed at the time,” he says gruffly.
“Including you. That’s what you implied. You even told me off the record you were sure of it.”
He scowls. “That’s not a fucking question. You got a question or not?”
I grit my teeth, feeling anger start to bubble up in my chest because I’m starting to realize something, starting to see a shape forming in the fog that I really don’t want to see. This guy was one of my key sources and I built my entire article around the implications of what he told me, and now he won’t even look me in the eye.
“Were you telling me the truth back then?” I ask, throwing another jab that Maria dodges without apparent effort.
“I’m not answering bullshit questions,” he snaps.
What a bastard.I take a breath, recalibrate, try a different angle. “Fine. Why did everyone assume Dominic knew about the drugs?”
“Because he was a control freak.” Eddie’s voice is flat now, matter-of-fact. “Nothing happened in that gym without him knowing about it. That’s just how he operated.”
I keep throwing punches. Keep missing. Maria moves like she’s choreographed this routine a thousand times, bobbing and weaving, slipping every jab I throw with an ease that would be insulting if it weren’t so impressive.
“Why did you agree to talk to me back then?” I throw another jab, trying to aim for her shoulder instead of her head, but I miss anyway. “For the original article. You didn’t have to go on record.”
Eddie is quiet for a long moment and the warehouse feels very still around us, with just the sound of fighters working out and my increasingly labored breathing.
“I was angry,” he finally says.
I stop mid-punch. “What?”
“Dominic and I worked together back then, you know that.” Eddie’s jaw tightens. “But he never respected me. I’m fifteen years older than the guy with twice the experience, and he was the one on his way to stardom while I was still scraping by trying to get my fighters noticed. I asked him once to loan me one of his fighters for a training camp and he turned me down flat. Said he didn’t like how I ran things.” He laughs bitterly. “And then a few months later, you came around asking questions.”
I stare at him, because that’s the kind of thing any journalist worth a damn should have caught. You check your sources. You verify their credibility. You look for bias, for grudges, for any reason they might have to twist the truth or tell you what you want to hear instead of what’s real. And I missed it. I was so eager for the story, so ready to believe the worst about Dominic, that I took Eddie’s words at face value and never stopped to ask why he was so willing to talk.
The gloves suddenly feel very heavy on my hands.
“Eddie,” I say, and my voice comes out strange, too thin. “Were you telling me the truth back then? About Dominic knowing?”
He shifts his weight, not quite meeting my eyes. “Don’t go putting this shit on me. You came in with a story already half-written. You wanted Dominic to be guilty. I could see it in the questions you asked, the way you framed everything. You weren’t looking for the truth. You were looking for confirmation.”
The words land like a punch I didn’t see coming. I open my mouth to argue, to defend myself. But the words won’t come. Because somewhere deep down, in the part of myself I try not to look at too closely, I know he’s right.
“And I gave it to you.” Eddie’s voice is almost tired. “Because I was pissed off and it felt good to stick it to the guy who’d dismissed me like I was nothing.”
Maria has gone still in front of me, the playful energy from earlier replaced by something more serious. She’s watching Eddie with an expression I can’t quite read and I’m still standing there with my gloves up like I’ve forgotten what they’re for.
