Claiming The Prize

Claiming The Prize

Grey light announced the late winter day's
approaching rains as Guy Antolini unlocked the glass doors of his
exclusive gym and held one open for his daughter, Grace.
His body
ached in anticipation of the cold, wet weather to come, a gift from
his years of punishment in the ring.

Hell, maybe he should become a weather man,
he mused to himself.

He flicked on the lights and found his way to
his office to look over the morning's schedule.
Glancing at the
battered clipboard, Guy made a mental note to call Danny McGovern,
a promoter he didn't loathe, to begin hashing out terms for a young
fighter, Carson Khaler.
Mac could work miracles in the promotion of
a fighter, and Guy was confident of a 55-45 split for the kid in
his next bout.
Khaler held an impressive record of ten wins in his
short career as a professional fighter and carried only one loss.
This fight could propel him into title contention material in the
American Mixed Martial Arts Organization, known by the acronym,
AMMAO.
Guy Antolini's staff had been working with this kid for two
years, and he showed promise.

Grace entered, bringing her father his
morning decaf, black, and a manila folder, which she opened on the
practically medieval metal desk.
Within the modern facility, Guy's
office remained as it had been since its opening fifteen years
earlier.
Other than a fresh coat of white paint faithfully slapped
on its walls in even numbered years and weekly cleanings, it sat
unchanged, a constant in a world of perpetual metamorphosis.

“
Alright, Anto,” Grace addressed her
father with the familiar tag his close associates used when in the
gym.
“You've got to make some tough calls on Tommy Moore and Brian
Bennadito.”

Guy nodded his head, his sharp, blue eyes
scanning the information he already knew.

“
Tommy Moore will move to Ike's
expertise.
He's ready to step up his training.
His win over that
kid from down south was unimpressive, but that was nerves.
He's got
quick hands and a chin like iron.”

Guy grinned at the recollection of the
beating Moore had endured before his training and instincts had
taken over and secured the knockout in his professional debut.

“
Plus, he's got heart,” he
added.

“
And Bennadito?”
his daughter
asked.

“
Bennadito is finished.
I paid him a
visit yesterday.
He knew it before I said a word.
His little wife
was relieved, I'll tell you that much.
I've never seen such a fit
as that woman had in the locker room after she found out Brian had
broken his hand again.”

“
Jeremy Henner is looking impressive,
Anto.
He's afraid to push you so soon after your agreeing to take
him on, but I think there's real potential.
Any
thoughts?”

Guy leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

“
Henner is on my watch list.
He's got a
solid wrestling background, he's young, and extremely motivated.
I'm going to meet with the Friar tomorrow about him.
He's working
as a millwright over at North Western Glass.
I want him to commit
to training full time.
I hear he's sweet on a cute little blond,
and I aim to find out where his heart is.”

Guy paused and leveled his best piercing
stare on Grace, the one she knew was meant to warn of serious
conversation.

“
Speaking of being sweet, daughter,
Carson was asking after you last night again.
Is there any
reason?”

Guy was quite protective of his only
daughter, and around the gym it was a well established fact that
Grace Antolini was off limits.

“
No, Anto,” she laughed.
“Apart from
our sharing jujitsu mat time, I hardly see him.
I think he's just
being friendly.”

Guy chuckled inwardly at his daughter's
naivete.
She was unaware of the effect she had on every man that
entered his gym, and that innocence made him more protective of
her.
He didn't particularly want her to become involved with any
fighter, for he knew that world too well.
Numerous times he had
pointed out to his child the desperate behavior of young women
vying for the attention of a fighter coming off a victory, and he
warned her against such foolish behavior.

At twenty-three years old, Grace was a
beauty.
Her dark hair was not quite black, and it reached to just
below her shoulder blades when released from the confines of the
pony tail she almost always wore.
Deep brunette layers framed her
oval face and wide cheekbones softly, and her large, brown eyes had
a slight almond shape under thick, black lashes and prominent, well
shaped brows.
Her rich, olive complexion emanated a healthy glow
even after the long, dreary winter months, and daily workouts left
her cheeks rosy and vibrant.

Grace had graduated from the state
university's local campus two years earlier with a bachelor's
degree in history, but the years spent growing up in and around a
gym had fostered her passion for the martial arts.
Training in
jujitsu since the tender age of five, Grace had acquired a
knowledge of technique that rivaled any instructor in the field
under her father and uncle's close supervision.
This vast knowledge
she kept somewhat concealed, and she observed from the sidelines,
her eyes able to see the unguarded moments of the men during the
trainers' absences, which proved invaluable to Guy and his team.
Within Guy's inner circle Grace was highly respected, and all
believed she would one day take her father's place.

“
I'm more than certain friendliness is
not what Khaler is thinking, Grace,” he bluntly stated.

“
Don't worry,” she smiled at her
father, “You know I've heeded your warnings about business being
business.”

In fact, Grace had never had a relationship
with any man.
The gym was her life.
During her high school and
college years she had been focused on academics, and Guy had
purposefully kept her schedule full to discourage any futile
pining.
But Grace hadn't balked.
Instead, she had embraced his
enthusiasm for perfecting the art of bloodsport.
In addition, Grace
had been raised in the Orthodox church, and her faith was something
that would have to be shared by any potential love interest.

She admired her father tremendously.
His
discipline, dedication, and intelligence were qualities she valued.
She had yet to encounter a man who not only possessed them himself,
but also shared her passion for this way of life.
Grace was a
private person.
Outside of her father and his partners, who were
like family to her, Grace Antolini was subdued.
Soft spoken and
thoughtful by nature, she was unassuming, which endeared her to
those in the gym, but hindered relationships in the outside
world.

Grace sat down at her desk where she
scrutinized invoices, investigated trends in the industry, managed
her father's itinerary, and coordinated the trainers' schedules
with their fighters.
Immersed in work, she barely noticed the
activity going on outside the office she shared with her
father.

Guy caught the flashing light of the
answering machine out of the corner of his eye, and after listening
to the message, he sat in thought for a long moment and stretched
back in the creaking chair.

“
Gracie, pull up whatever you can find
on Drago Zadrovec.
I want fight time-lines, career stats, team
members, and injury info.”

Twenty minutes of searching produced the
results her father wanted, and Grace delivered the freshly printed
pages to his desk.

“
Let me know if you need anything
else,” Grace offered before heading out to the floor
below.

* * *

Descending the steel suspension staircase,
Grace surveyed the late morning bustle of First Strike.
Allan
Eisenhower, the wrestling and ground game man, worked with Henner
as the Friar looked on, taking notes on Henner's weaknesses and
strengths while Saint Clair Davis had his morning group in various
stages of the intense, cardio routine he had developed.
To the far
left, two rings were utilized in sparring practices under the
watchful eye of St.
Clair's assistants.

Grace observed Henner's technique, smiling at
the evident progression of his abilities since being welcomed into
team Anto-Engage, certain her father had made a good decision in
taking on the young wrestler.

“
Good morning sunshine,” came the
interruption from Carson Khaler behind her.
“How's my best
girl?”

“
Oh, good morning Carson,” she answered
with a grin and roll of her eyes.

“
I hope you'll stick around to watch my
session.
I promise it'll be better than this.”

He flashed the white teeth of his
all-American smile.

Grace had watched that smile melt the hearts
of too many women over the last twenty-four months to be moved by
it.
Khaler was a playboy, arrogant and full of himself, but he
delivered in the cage, and that is what mattered in their business.
Still, Grace wondered if the day would come when her father would
cut Carson loose.
Guy was not a man who approved of such reckless
living.
Her father believed in honor.
He also knew that wild living
and overconfidence led to sure defeat in time.
There was always a
hungry opponent looking to take your momentum.

Choosing not to respond to Carson, Grace
reasoned that it was best to be polite.
After all, he had never
behaved in any way other than as a teasing older sibling toward
her, and she wanted to believe he viewed her as nothing more.
His
next words clarified exactly the opposite.

“
So Grace, how about you and I finally
drop the friend routine and you let me take you out
later.”

He flashed a wolfish smile.

Grace was speechless.
Carson Khaler was not a
man she would consider becoming involved with, but she had no
desire to hurt his ego.
For all his machismo, he had always been
well behaved with her and respectful toward her father.
That alone
secured a place in her heart for Carson.

“
I'm sorry, Carson,” she said as nicely
as she could, “I can't accept your offer, but thanks for
asking.”

“
Look, Grace...If it's your Dad you're
worried about...,” he trailed off the sentence, an actual look of
surprise showing on his handsome, boyish face.

He searched for a sign of encouragement on
her face, finding none.

“
We would make a great team, Grace.
I'm
going to be the next light-heavyweight champ, and we both know it.
You could do worse.”
He gave her a sheepish smile.
“At least think
about it.”

“
Really Carson, I'm flattered.
You'll
break some poor girl's heart, but not mine,” Grace said softly in
her honest way.

Carson Khaler had not been turned away by a
woman in his adult life.
That it was Grace Antolini, the one woman
he felt some affection for, tore at him.
He knew deep down why she
refused him, knew that his philandering and partying were very good
reasons for her to say no, but he had hoped she would overlook all
of that.
But that is not what Grace would do, and truthfully,
Carson wasn't sure he would feel the way he did about her if she
had.
His smile was no longer wolfish, but genuine.

“
I guess the friend routine will have
to continue,” he laughed and then added, “But sunshine, I'd never
break your heart.”

Grace smiled back at him, content to let him
have the final word on the subject.
She did linger to watch Carson
spar awhile before returning to the day's business, and her meeting
with Ike went smoothly, leaving Tommy Moore flying high at his
advancement.

All training stopped between noon and three
o'clock, and Grace busied herself during the break by refilling
fresh towels and disinfecting the mats.
The tasks could be left to
others, but she enjoyed the vigorous activity and solitude of the
work.
Pale, gray walls stretched high to the industrial ceiling,
its exposed vents and pipes painted crisp white.
Evenly spaced
propeller sized circulation fans pushed the air around, keeping it
fresh and cooling the moist, heated closeness of the facility,
their low thrum dispelling any hint of eerie silence in the
emptiness of afternoon.
The right end of the hangar-like building
housed the black, steel suspension staircase which led to three
offices and a small conference room off the narrow hallway, which
was open to the sprawling gymnasium below and enclosed by
waist-high, glass panels topped with wide, blond wood arm
railings.