Page 93 of Main Event

ANDI

I find our seats at six-fifty.

The arena is already filling—the undercard has been running for two hours. The crowd is energized, waiting for the main event to begin. That’s what they’ve all come to see. Brandon finds me at the entrance, and we walk in together. He’s moving better than he was a week ago. The soreness in his ribs is still present but manageable.

He looks at the ring and then at me.

“He’s ready,” he says.

“I know,” I say.

We sit. The second row, aisle seats. I can see everything from here—the ring, the corner entrances, the judges’ table. I set my phone in my lap face-up, and I wait.

Bill texted twenty minutes ago.

Daniel is in position. The attorney is with him. We’re watching.

I text back.

So am I.

LUKE

Round one belongs to feeling each other out.

Vega is exactly what the film showed—patient, technical, comfortable in the pocket. He’s not trying to hurt me in round one. He’s trying to understand me. His jab is landing to establish range rather than damage, his footwork is clean, and his head movement is better in person than on tape.

I let him work.

Reyes’s voice is clear as a bell in my head, “Make him take the fight he doesn’t want to have.” Which means I don’t give him the fight he prepared for—the version of me that chases, that loads up on the right hand, and that gets impatient when the jab isn’t landing.

I move. I work the body. I let him think he’s controlling the pace.

Round one bell.

Mack in the corner: “He’s reading your right hand.”

“I know.”

“Stop telegraphing it.”

“Working on it.”

He hands me water. I breathe.

ANDI

Round three.

My phone lights up between rounds with a text from Bill.

Daniel is at the hotel. Meeting with journalist confirmed. The attorney is inside with him.

I read it without moving my face. Brandon sees the phone from the corner of his eye.

“Bill?” he says quietly.

“Daniel is with the journalist,” I say. Same volume. Nobody around us is paying attention to anything except the ring.