“Are you kidding me?” I said. “Robo-Troy’s never been defeated, and you told me to double down on the other guy?”
Nash shrugged. “I thought he was a sure thing. But that’s okay. I’m sure you’ll be able to pay me back.”
“Pay you back? I’ve got like seventeen dollars.”
“Well, you’re going to have to pay it back somehow. I mean, that’s just the honorable thing to do, and I know you’re an honorable guy. That’s why I let you in on the after-ten-o’clock action.”
“But you told me who to bet for. I wouldn’t have bet on anything if it was just me.”
“Wait a minute now. I didn’t make you bet. I just advised you. If you didn’t want to, you should’ve just said so. But now you owe me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Really? But it’s fair that I’m out all that money? I don’t see it that way.”
I looked toward the door, thinking maybe I should make a run for it, but I knew I’d never get there. “How about this? Maybe I could pay you back a little at a time like a loan at a bank.”
“But the thing is, I’m not a bank. I need to get paid back tonight.”
“I told you I don’t have that kind of money on me.”
“Right. But there’s something else you can do.” He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “There’s one more fight tonight, the heavyweight bout, and let’s face it, you’re pretty much a heavyweight.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, but I could see he wasn’t joking.
“Look, the problem is, I don’t have a heavyweight tonight, and I can’t afford to forfeit. The competition is too close. So I figure you owe me this favor.”
“But I can’t fight anybody. I’ve never been in a fight.” This was true. I’d never had any interest in fighting. Part of why I quit football in middle school was because I didn’t like to hit people—that and all the exercising.
But Nash’s like, “What do you mean? You got in a fight with that guy with the switchblade, and you came out of that all right.”
Okay, maybe when I told Nash about Sideburns and his switchblade, I exaggerated my role in chasing him off, but that was no reason to get my butt pummeled tonight. So I’m like, “That was different. I didn’t have a choice that night.”
Nash’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see that you have a choice tonight—except to pay me my money or do me this favor. Besides, it’s only for fifteen minutes. What can happen in fifteen minutes?”
“What can happen in fifteen minutes? Did you just see Dancin’ Dan’s face?”
Nash smiled as if recalling a fond memory. “Okay, I’ll make this deal with you. If things start getting out of control, I’ll stop the fight. How about that?”
I glanced around the room. “Can I see who I’m supposed to fight first?”
“Sorry, that’s against the rules. But think of it this way—all these pretty girls around here are going to see you standing up like a man. Even if you don’t win, can you imagine how much sympathy you’re going to get? You’ll be a bigger part of Gangland than ever. Hey, Aisling Collins, I guarantee, is going to love you for it.”
Aisling was standing next to the betting table. She caught me looking at her and smiled.
“I don’t guess there’s any way out of it,” I said.
“That’s my boy,” Nash said. “I knew you’d come through.”
CHAPTER 36
When Rowan returned from stowing Dancin’ Dan in the dressing room, an oblong smear of blood decorated the front of his yellow blazer. Taking his place in the center of the warehouse, he pawed at the stain nervously like he was afraid it would crawl up and attack his jugular. The crowd gathered back into a ring, and he started his spiel, though his confidence seemed shaken by the disaster of Dancin’ Dan’s face.
“I’m glad to report that Dancin’ Dan is fine,” he offered. “We cleaned him up and gave him a six-pack of beer, so he’s in good spirits.”
The audience responded with the sort of lame applause you hear at golf tournaments.
“And now for what you’ve all been waiting for—the heavyweight match.” Rowan pulled his note cards from his blazer pocket. “First, we have the big, the bruising, the large-and-in-charge man-beast from the Lower East—Nitro the Annihilator!”
At that, Nash shoved me forward into the ring. Rowan’s eyes inflated with genuine surprise. “Wait, Nash, you can’t be serious. This is your heavyweight?”
“The one and the only,” said Nash happily.
“And you’re okay with this?” Rowan asked me.
Of course, I wasn’t okay with it. Far from it. If Rowan was worried about me fighting, I figured I should be about ten times more worried. And on top of that, I realized Nash had been setting me up all along. The note card with my name on it was the giveaway. Obviously, he gave the card to Rowan earlier in the evening—before I lost any money on bets. But what could I do? Whine about the unfairness of the situation? Everyone was staring at me, including a heavy dose of perfect girls. Quitting football had been easy. All I had to do was not show up for practice. But quitting this was impossible.
I nodded. “Let’s get it over with.”
The crowd cheered.
For a second, Rowan looked like he wanted to throw down his note cards and resign his membership in Gangland. But he didn’t. Fumbling with the next card, he started the introduction. “Second up in the heavyweight bout, we have the dapper scrapper of the South Side, El Tigre Grande, El Matador, El Conquistador—Beto Hernandez!”