Marcus reached out and lightly touched his shoulder.
“Come on.”
Sam stopped.
Marcus nodded toward the ring.
“One round.”
Sean stepped forward.
“Marcus, drop it.”
Marcus ignored him.
“No hard punches. Just movement.”
Sam stared at the hand Marcus had placed on his shoulder.
Marcus removed it.
“You said my feet are wrong. Show me.”
Sam looked around the nearly empty gym.
Then he glanced at the old wall clock.
6:43.
Finally, he sighed.
“One minute.”
Tyler's eyes widened.
“You're serious?”
Sam pointed toward him.
“Turn that off.”
Marcus smiled.
“Why?”
“Because I'm not interested in being on your telephone.”
Marcus considered arguing.
Instead he nodded.
“Fine.”
Tyler lowered the phone, although he kept it in his hand.
Sam walked toward the ring.
He did not look impressive climbing through the ropes.
His right hip moved stiffly. He lifted his leg carefully over the bottom rope and stepped inside.
Marcus bounced lightly on his toes.
“You want gloves?”
“No.”
“Then how are you going to show me anything?”
Sam held up his hands.
“We're not boxing.”
Marcus smiled.
“What are we doing?”
“You're showing me your footwork.”
Marcus rolled his shoulders.
“All right.”
Sam stood in the center of the ring.
His hands hung loosely at his sides.
Marcus stared at him.
The old man's posture looked almost casual.
Too casual.
Marcus smiled.
“You ready?”
Sam nodded.
“Show me how you move.”
Marcus took one step forward.
Sam moved.
It was barely visible.
One small adjustment.
One slight turn.
Marcus's lead foot landed where Sam's had been a fraction of a second earlier.
Marcus frowned.
He stepped again.
Sam disappeared from the angle.
Marcus turned.
Sam was behind his shoulder.
Not close enough to touch him.
Just close enough to make a point.
Marcus's smile vanished.
Sam said quietly:
“Your feet aren't wrong.”
Marcus looked at him.
“They're predictable.”
For the first time that evening, nobody laughed.
One Minute
Marcus stared at Sam.
The old janitor stood three feet away, breathing normally.
No sweat.
No heavy breathing.
No dramatic expression.
Just calm.
Marcus shook his head.
“Again.”
Sam nodded.
Marcus moved forward.
This time he accelerated.
His left foot slid across the canvas.
His right followed.
He changed direction.
Sam moved with him.
Marcus stepped left.
Sam was already there.
Marcus stepped right.
Sam disappeared again.
It wasn't speed.
At least not the kind Marcus understood.
Sam wasn't racing him.
He was anticipating him.
Marcus suddenly stopped.
“How?”
Sam shrugged.
“You move before you move.”
Marcus frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You tell people what you're about to do.”
Marcus laughed.
“No, I don't.”
“You do.”
“How?”
“Your shoulders.”
Marcus instinctively rolled them back.
Sam smiled faintly.
“There.”
“What?”
“You just did it again.”
Tyler couldn't contain himself.
He laughed.
Marcus looked at him.
“What's funny?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop laughing.”
Tyler swallowed his smile.
Sam walked toward the ropes.
Marcus followed.
“Wait.”
Sam stopped.
Marcus looked at him differently now.
“Where did you learn?”
Sam said nothing.
“You were a fighter?”
“I fought.”
“At what level?”
“A few levels.”
“Professional?”
Sam hesitated.
“Yes.”
Marcus stared at him.
“How many fights?”
“Enough.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Marcus shook his head.
“What's your record?”
Sam's eyes hardened for the first time.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because you just made me look stupid in my own ring.”
“You asked me to.”
Tyler covered his mouth.
Sean turned away.
Marcus heard them.
He looked embarrassed.
Then angry.
“Okay.”
Sam watched him.
“Okay what?”
Marcus removed his sweatshirt.
“Now we're going to do this properly.”
Sam shook his head.
“No.”
Marcus stared.
“Why not?”
“Because that's not what we agreed to.”
“One minute.”
“No.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“No.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“You're afraid?”
Sam looked directly into his eyes.
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
That made Marcus even more frustrated.
“Then prove it.”
Sam remained still.
Marcus pointed toward the center of the ring.
“Just try to survive.”
Sean's face tightened.
“Marcus.”
Marcus didn't look at him.
“Thirty seconds,” Marcus said. “You don't have to punch me. Just survive.”
Sam studied him.
“That's what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
Sam stepped back.
Marcus raised his gloves.
Tyler lifted his phone again.
Sam pointed toward him.
“I said no camera.”
Tyler hesitated.
Marcus looked at him.
“Turn it off.”
Tyler did.
The gym became strangely quiet.
Marcus bounced on his toes.
Sam stood opposite him.
The old man's hands remained low.
Marcus smiled.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The wall clock ticked.
6:47.
Marcus moved.
His jab shot forward.
Sam leaned away.
Marcus followed with another.
Sam stepped outside.
Marcus threw a left hook.
Sam ducked.
Marcus smiled.
“There.”
He accelerated.
Jab.
Cross.
Hook.
Body shot.
Sam avoided every punch.
But Marcus was not trying to hurt him.
Not yet.
He was testing.
Sam's movements remained economical.
No wasted steps.
No unnecessary motion.
After twenty seconds, Marcus's expression had changed.
He attacked again.
Sam slipped.
Marcus pivoted.
Sam pivoted with him.
Marcus threw a feint.
Sam didn't react.
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
Then he noticed something.
Sam was not watching his gloves.
He was watching his chest.
His hips.
His feet.
His breathing.
Everything except the obvious.
Marcus stepped forward.
Sam stepped backward.
Marcus suddenly lunged.
Sam shifted.
Marcus's right foot crossed slightly over his left.
Exactly what Sam had warned him about.
Marcus corrected himself instantly.
But Sam had already moved.
He touched Marcus lightly on the shoulder.
“Thirty seconds.”
Marcus froze.
Sam stepped away.
“That was it.”
Marcus stared at him.
He had been touched.
Not punched.
Not beaten.
But touched.
And he hadn't seen it coming.
Marcus lowered his gloves.
“You've done this before.”
Sam nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who trained you?”
Sam looked toward the empty bleachers.
“A man named Daniel.”
“Daniel who?”
“Daniel Brooks.”
Marcus frowned.
The name meant nothing to him.
“Where?”
“Philadelphia.”
“When?”
Sam smiled faintly.
“Before you were born.”
Marcus looked at his hands.
Then back at Sam.
“You're not just some guy who boxed.”
“No.”
“What were you?”
Sam was quiet for several seconds.