“Yeah, you helped me out, and since the day I arrived, you’ve been nothing but an asshole so you can take your charity and ram it straight up your ass,” I said, feeling the anger rise up from wherever it is that it lurks. My balance wavered and I could feel my hands shake. My bottom lip quivered. I couldn’t tell if it was noticeable. My throat felt raw. But I wasn’t scared. Of all the things Jeff had that I didn’t, there were a few things I possessed that he never would. Gravel in my guts. An implacable mean streak a mile wide from a lifetime of scraping by and a desire to do harm to those who never had to. Pent-up anger and frustration. A father who shirked diplomacy and instead taught me how to fight, and how to fight well.

Jeff shook his head. “You’ve done well, Stratton. Look how far you’ve come, buddy. You really should be proud of yourself.”

“Fuck you,” I said, fifteen feet away. Both standing firm staring at each other. It was what I had always done in wrestling, staring down an opponent. Always full of nerves and adrenaline but I refused to look away first. It was another thing my father had taught me. He used to always point it out on those long-ago nights when we’d watch every Mike Tyson fight, years before I started wrestling. To look away first showed weakness, timidity, fear. And now, standing in front of Jeff, who was five inches taller than I was and about forty pounds heavier, it was no different. I kept my eyes on his. The anger inside of me was quickly boiling to rage, rage that would soon overflow and come spilling over the brim. Channel it, Stratton. Don’t let it control you. Then Jeff shook his head and glanced at the floor, giving round one to me.

From the corner of my eye I could see the entrance to his bedroom. The door was closed, which led me to believe that my bag was in there. I doubted he’d go through the trouble of hiding it outside the apartment.

“You think you can go through with this? You think you’re man enough to fight me?” I asked. “All the money in the world won’t help you out of this, Jeff, you know that, right? No amount of money will make you any less than the little pussy bitch that you are.”

I took a step forward.

He shook his head. “Boy, your mom would be proud, wouldn’t she?”