“You famous now?”
Agrippa sighed.
“No.”
The supervisor laughed.
“You're on the internet.”
“I've been on the internet before.”
“Not like this.”
By lunchtime, an old sports reporter had called.
By afternoon, someone from a local television station had left a message.
Agrippa ignored all of them.
He only cared about getting home.
When he arrived, Larry was sitting at the kitchen table.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Mrs. Carter said you're famous.”
Agrippa froze.
“Who told you that?”
“Everyone.”
Agrippa sat down.
“I'm not famous.”
Larry smiled.
“You are.”
“No.”
“You are.”
Agrippa laughed.
“Okay. Maybe a little.”
Larry leaned closer.
“Were you really a fighter?”
Agrippa stared at him.
There was no reason to lie anymore.
“Yes.”
“Like boxing?”
“Something like that.”
“Did you win?”
Agrippa smiled.
“Sometimes.”
“How many times?”
Agrippa thought.
“A lot.”
Larry's eyes widened.
“Were you the best?”
“No.”
That answer surprised the boy.
Agrippa continued.
“I was one of the best for a while.”
“Why did you stop?”
Agrippa looked down.
“Because I got hurt.”
Larry became quiet.
“Did someone hurt you?”
“No. My body did.”
He explained the injury carefully.
He explained that fighting professionally meant accepting risks.
He explained that winning wasn't everything.
Then Larry asked the question Agrippa had been expecting.
“Why didn't you fight those men at the park?”
Agrippa smiled.
“Because winning a fight isn't always the same as doing the right thing.”
Larry considered that.
“So you could have beaten them?”
Agrippa didn't answer immediately.
“I could have defended us.”
“That's different?”
“Very.”
That evening, Agrippa received a call from someone he hadn't spoken to in years.
His former coach.
Marcus Bell.
“It's been a long time,” Marcus said.
“Too long.”
“I saw the video.”
“I figured.”
“You still move like a fighter.”
“I move like an old man with a bad knee.”
Marcus laughed.
“Don't insult yourself.”
Agrippa leaned against the kitchen counter.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know if you're okay.”
Agrippa was silent.
Marcus continued.
“You remember what happened after your last fight.”
“Yes.”
“You walked away from everything.”
“I needed to.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
Then Marcus said:
“But sometimes life puts you back in the ring without asking.”
Agrippa looked toward Larry's bedroom.
“I don't want that life.”
“I know.”
“Then why call?”
“Because the five men from the park aren't finished.”
Agrippa's expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
“They've been asking about you.”
Agrippa straightened.
“How do you know?”
“Because one of them contacted a gym where I train fighters.”
Agrippa's jaw tightened.
Marcus continued.
“They're trying to find out who you are.”
“Why?”
“Pride.”
Agrippa closed his eyes.
Pride.
It had ruined many fighters.
It had ruined him once.
He had no intention of letting it ruin Larry's life.
“I'll handle it,” Agrippa said.
Marcus became serious.
“Don't underestimate them.”
“I won't.”
“That's not what I mean.”
Agrippa waited.
Marcus said:
“They're not looking for a fight anymore.”
Agrippa's eyes narrowed.
“What are they looking for?”
“Revenge.”
Trent couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered his wrist.
He remembered the humiliation.
Most of all, he remembered the look in Agrippa's eyes.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Disappointment.
That hurt more than anything.
Trent searched the internet.
He found an old article.
Then another.
Then a video.
Then a photograph.
His face went pale.
AGRIPPA FISHER WINS NATIONAL MMA TITLE
The photograph showed a younger Agrippa standing beneath arena lights.
His face was bruised.
His hands were wrapped.
Around his waist was a championship belt.
Trent stared.
“No way.”
Cody leaned over.
“What?”
Trent turned the screen.
Cody's expression changed.
“That's him?”
“Yes.”
“The guy from the park?”
“Yes.”
Nobody spoke.
One of the others swallowed.
“So he's actually a fighter?”
Trent slammed the laptop shut.