CHAPTER 35
The weather in Miami, just a few days before Thanksgiving, was sweltering. Jackie fanned herself as the ceiling fans in the tiny Cuban restaurant worked overtime, wishing she’d worn a dress instead of a suit. She thought she’d have been meeting Manny Guzman in some posh restaurant on South Beach, or in his high-rise office. Instead, he chose a little mom-and-pop Cuban restaurant in the heart of Little Havana, not too far from his flagship gym. Luckily it was quiet. A little too quiet. They were the only patrons. Jackie was pretty sure Manny had shut down the restaurant for privacy.
Manny adjusted the napkin in his lap. The stark white of the linen against his dark burgundy pants was jarring. “I know a place like this probably isn’t your style, Ms. Miles. You seem like a refined woman, but I like to be comfortable when I talk business, you know? Have a good meal…and hopefully a pleasant conversation.”
Jackie nodded politely before typing her response. “I get that. I’m on your home turf, Mr. Guzman. And I’m not as prim and proper as you think.” She fiddled with the laminated tablecloth. “And thank you for being understanding about my voice. I know this is unusual.” She pointed to her phone, the app for speech open and flashing.
“Oh, that thing?” Manny gave an uncharacteristically soft smile. “My twelve-year-old daughter is hard of hearing. She wasn’t born that way, so we’re still learning how to communicate. I am not as well-versed in ASL as my daughter and wife are, so thank God for assistive technology. Trust me, that’s no problem. I was more concerned that comfort food like Ropa Vieja and platanos would be a little too rustic for your taste. I’m sure the daughter of a baseball legend is used to the finer things.”
At the mention of her father, Jackie stiffened. She wasn’t sure if Manny was being funny or what. Not everyone knew her dad’s entire story. Many assumed he had just retired early from baseball. Either way, the words stung. She cleared her throat, trying her best to regain her professionalism as she typed. “You’d be surprised, Mr. Guzman. It wasn’t always champagne and caviar. Sometimes it was pork and beans and Kool-Aid.”
“As humble as you are beautiful, I see,” Manny remarked. “And please, call me Manny. May I call you Jackie?”
“Of course. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Jackie turned on a megawatt smile, hoping to disarm him.
Manny gave Jackie a cautious smile in return. “Perhaps. It depends on what you’re asking for.”
Jackie had her answer prepared; she had typed it ahead of the meeting and queued it up for this very moment. “Manny, I think I made it clear in my proposal what I’m asking for. A title fight in Atlantic City against Rodriguez. I’ve got multiple streaming services interested in carrying the fight. You’ll get a percentage of that, naturally. And exclusive mini-docuseries coverage with WWSN. The VP of programming there is a good friend, and she’s very interested. We have sponsors lined up, like Under Armour and Everlast. Payment for sponsored posts. We want a guaranteed take-home purse of eight million dollars for Mo, win or lose. But we know he won’t lose.”
Manny nearly chocked on his Cuba libre. “You want a guarantee of eight million for a guy who hasn’t fought in two years? Not to mention, his temper is unpredictable. That’s a fool’s bet for sure.”
Jackie typed fast. “You and I both know Mo’s in excellent shape, mentally and physically. Mo is as ready as they come for a top-tier fighter. The streets are talking. They want some actual competition for Ramón for a change.”
“So, you think I don’t give my boxer challenging fights?” asked Manny as he cut into his food. He took a bite of plantain and chewed. “I take offense to that, Jackie.”
Jackie rolled her eyes. “Keep it real with me, Manny. You’re not giving Ramón anyone challenging, because you’re scared he won’t measure up.” Her app seemed to reply little too loudly in the quiet restaurant, making her a bit uneasy.
Manny stopped chewing and stared at her as if she’d spit in his food. Fuck. Maybe she was going a little too hard in the paint, but a man like Manny Guzman didn’t do soft.
He pointed his knife at Jackie. “You might want to be careful with your words, Ms. Miles.”
“Ms. Miles? I thought we were friends, Manny.”
“Not when you piss me off.”
There was silence between them as Manny polished off his drink. He ordered another and said something else to the waitress in rapid Spanish. Jackie was pretty sure he was cursing her out. She didn’t care. She’d been called every name in the book when it came to negotiating deals.
Manny pulled out a toothpick, picking at something imaginary in his teeth. “Best I can guarantee you is Mo in an undercard fight. Two million take-home purse. Win or lose. Percentages of streaming and the rest the same.” Manny twirled the toothpick around. “Maybe in a year or two, we can work up to the main event. He’s been out of the game two years; what’s another two?”
Jackie shook her head and typed confidently. “Nope. It’s either now or never, Manny.”
“Is this because Mo is broke?” asked Manny. “I’m sorry about Clyde, but I’m not trying to play myself.”
Jackie understood she needed to choose her words carefully. “You and I both know a boxer without a fight is a man without a purpose. A wandering soul. I know you’re trying to wait it out until he really is washed and easier for Ramón to handle. Face it, Manny. You’re running scared because you think Mo has a chance. Mo Williams versus Ramón Rodiguez will be the Liston-Ali of our time.” Clearly, Mo was Ali in this scenario.
