AS A BOXING promoter, I know it’s not unusual for the star to have pre fight nerves, but when Invincible Man Idris Walker refused to come out of his changing room for two hours, I knew I had to call in security to break down the star decorated door.
‘Iddy—what the hell? There’s two thousand people out front wanting a refund.’ I stopped speaking when I saw it.
Fear.
This was the greatest fighter I’d ever worked with, knocking down any bellowing beast that dared enter the ring with him. But now in the changing room, I quickly ushered everyone out when I recognised something in his eyes I didn’t like and thought the poor guy would sob.
‘It’s okay, champ,’ I said softly. ‘Nerves are normal, but you’ve got nothing to worry about—Richards is a chump. You’ll knock him on his back in no time.’
Really, the match was already a cinch. Richards was too old and no contest. What was going on?
‘I’m in trouble, boss. Big trouble.’ Idris let his shoulders sag, and I feared my metal man was made of paper.
‘Oh, Christ—who is she, Iddy?’ I sighed. ‘I’ve warned you about hooking up with fans. You have to put the job first; there’s plenty of time for love to get in your head after you’ve defended your invincible title.’
Idris shook his head. ‘My name’s not Invincible Man… and it’s not Idris.’
I sank onto the bench beside him. ‘I’ve known you twenty years, what—’
‘I lost every fight as Damon Sanders—my real name,’ Idris added. ‘I was an ape. A fighter going nowhere with dreams and brain damage like any rookie.’
I tried to understand what he was saying, but the distant roar of the crowd outside this tiny room circled in my ears and worried my coin purse.
‘Then I met a man—or what I thought was a man. He said he’d change my luck, make me stronger than any fighter. Capable of laying out the greatest opponent in a single punch. But after forty wins, I’d have to pay my bill.’
My scattered mind crushed some numbers. ‘Tonight’s your fortieth fight,’ I said.
Idris nodded. ‘My fortieth win, no doubt. Then I’ll have to pay that fellow who gave me these gifts—and I’m scared about what comes next. When he comes for my soul—’
I didn’t mean to laugh. In this business, I’d seen many yellow bellies try to weasel out of fights by feigning injury or illness, but not against a lug like Richards.
‘Your determination gave you these gifts.’ I tried to keep my temper; decades in this business had taught me not to annoy men like Idris, built like bulldozers. ‘Ten hours a day in the gym, sweating, punching bags, Iddy.’
Idris shook his head. ‘I was a lightweight, a weakling, unable to dent that bloody bag until he came. The man with small eyes—horrible eyes. They didn’t seem to reflect the light. They-’
I’d heard enough. ‘So you’re gonna break this contract? Show the world you cower to men like Richards?’
Idris wiped his eyes. ‘You didn’t see how quick and large my arms grew when I signed his contract. When I cut my finger and wrote on the dotted line. And since then it’s been win after win—thirty-nine of them. But no more.’
‘That’s not your decision,’ I said. ‘There’s a lot of money and promotion being pumped into tonight. You think I’m gonna let you walk away after all the work I’ve dedicated to your career?’
‘Get off me,’ Idris said and hit me once.
The world turned, sickeningly and I fell. Like thirty-nine men before him, as Invincible Man Idris, he had knocked me down.
‘You broke my bloody nose.’
‘Oh, god, I won,’ Idris paled in front of me. ‘No, god, no!’
‘What are you blathering about? Call an ambulance.’ I opened my mouth to say more, but Idris said nothing as his face tightened in pain. He grabbed his chest and howled as a heart attack seized him.
The doctor said it was a common thing in his profession—all that workout—that testosterone rushing through the body. Yes, he had been angry when he died, shouting and brawling as fine as any boxer.
Probably high blood pressure.
The doctor smiled as his men took Idris away. ‘That plaster will hold your nose awhile, but it’s best if you get to hospital and fix it properly,’ he said.
I shook my head gently, worried that something would fall out. ‘No, I’ve gotta sort out the refunds. The arguments. A lot of people will be mad when they hear the champ is dead.’
The doctor nodded in sympathy. ‘Poor Damon. My men will take good care of him. Take him where he belongs.’
‘How did you know his name was-’
I stopped talking when I realised I was alone. The doctor was gone, and maybe that was a good thing.
His eyes had been startling—small and horrible.
Trying to shake away the memory of them, I headed outside the small changing room that smelt of sulphur with quick steps toward the sounds of people, of life, where the crowd were cheering, chanting for the start of a match that would never take place.
When I heard the doctor’s laugh rumble through the hallway behind me, I was positively running.
