“You ready for some real work then?”
“Bring it on,” I dared him as I switched to one-handed push-ups. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Chapter 15
“Kier!” I shouted across the gym.
“What?” he called back.
“Come and rescue me from the American before I punch him in the face,” I answered him.
“You can punch me if you can catch me. But you can’t because you’re not fight-ready and you’re slow as shit.” Earnshaw danced around the ring like he was Muhammad Ali.
I’d been training since before dawn, I was dog tired, and getting fucking sick of making him look bad in front of my wife. I rolled my head around my shoulders and bounced a while to loosen up.
“You know the great thing about having lifelong friends who’d do anything for you,” I said quietly, so that only he could hear. “There’s always someone around to hold you down,” I told him without waiting for his answer. I looked behind him, and he followed my gaze, expecting to see my guys jump him. When he turned back after realizing that no one was there, I punched him in the face and knocked him out.
“Con, you’re gonna give that kid brain damage.”
“Danny, he left a good job in America to come and work for you and get in the ring with me. I think he was a little bit brain-damaged anyway.”
“Did you angry knock him out?” he asked me.
“I’m not mad. He was just annoying me,” I answered him truthfully.
“I’d give you a feckin’ bollocking but his constant yammering’s been getting’ on my feckin’ nerves for the last half an hour.”
“Is he all right?” Em asked me. She always got worried when one of us was knocked out. Well, one of them. I never got knocked out. I can’t imagine how ape shit she’d go if I was. I checked him over, not wanting her to worry. I knew he’d be okay. Already he was starting to come round.
“Can you please stop knocking me out?” he asked me as he pushed himself up to sit against the ropes.
“Can you please stop pushing my buttons in front of Em? As long as she’s here, motivation isn’t a problem. But you telling her I’m slow or that I’m not ready, it pisses me off but it upsets her. Makes her worry. I can’t have that.” I nodded in her direction as I spoke, and she gave me a small, nervous smile.
“I hear you,” he said as Em handed him a mug.
“Cup of tea,” she replied, as she climbed out of the ring.
“I don’t drink tea,” he whispered to me, and he got points from me for not offending her.
“If it’s going spare, I’ll take that,” Kieran told him as he climbed in the ring after Em.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told Earnshaw. “It’s sort of what Em does when someone needs comfort. She either drinks tea or makes it for someone else. We’ll break it to her that you only like coffee when you haven’t just been knocked out.” The three of us sat propped up against the ropes, Kieran drinking his tea, Earnshaw trying to focus his vision, and me waiting for Danny to come out of the office and bawl me out for taking a break.
“What the feckin’ hell is this?” I heard, and we all smiled. “Deaf, dumb, and blind, the three feckin’ stupid monkeys. You wanna sit round like a bunch of old ladies, fuck off down the Salvation Army cafe. They’re having tea and biscuits with the pensioners today. They invited me but I told them I couldn’t take all the excitement. Watching you three train is much more relaxing. It shouldn’t be. Now move!” he barked across the ring, and we jumped to attention.
Earnshaw got up too quick, got dizzy, and fell back down, which made Danny roll his eyes and walk toward the storage cupboard, muttering all the while about the travesty that was our generation. He came back with three skipping ropes and chucked them at us. Climbing out of the ring, I nudged Earnshaw. “Change out of your trainers and put some boxing shoes on. Danny keeps a couple of spare pairs in the cupboard.”
“I’ve got my own. I’ve just never used them for jumping rope before.”
“In this country, mate, it’s called skipping,” Kieran told him.
“Skipping is for little girls. Jumping rope is for fighters,” he replied.
“Well us ‘little girls’ are gonna kick your arse.”
“Con, maybe,” Earnshaw retorted, “but not you.”
”We’ll see,” said Kieran, grinning cockily. “Danny makes every fighter, from the juniors to us, skip for hours. It teaches you how to transfer weight from foot to foot quickly and builds solid muscle.”
“Why not focus on squats like most trainers do?” he asked curiously.
“Because squats ain’t nowhere near fast enough. You need hundreds of repetitions for hours to get the sort of muscle development I’m looking for. These boys ain’t been training like this for the last few months. They’ve been training like this since the day they first walked through the doors,” Kieran said, adding his opinion into the mix.
“But squats combined with circuits and running will give you that,” Earnshaw argued. Kieran and I smirked at each other. No one argued with Danny’s training schedule.
“Skipping is fast and constant. You don’t just need strength in a fight, you need speed and efficiency. There’s a technique to skipping that will teach you to jump and bounce for hours without getting tired. You need proof, then let’s give it a go. Both my boys will outlast you skipping any day of the week,” Kieran said.
“You’re on,” he agreed, and Danny laughed. Two hours later, Earnshaw was in the bathroom, puking his guts up, when Liam called Kieran’s phone.
“Shit, man, is that serious? What does it mean for the rest of the trial? No fucking way… Shit! Yeah, just get back here as soon as you can, okay. The shit’s gonna hit the fan, and I’m gonna need your help keeping it together.” By the end of the conversation, Kier had turned his back on us and was talking quietly into his phone.
“Okay, bye,” he said, disconnecting the call.
“Where’s Em?” he asked me, turning around.
“In the office making coffee. What’s going on?” He ignored me and jogged over to Danny.
“Go in the office with Em, turn the music up higher on the gym speakers, close the door, and keep her busy.” Danny looked at Kieran’s mobile and then at me.