The Punishing Game (13 page)

Yusef had to laugh. “I’ve seen that video, too. Yes, it
was
quite an event. In a way, Sonny and I are trying to do the same thing in boxing. We want to bring to the sport the sexiness, the charisma, glitz, and glamour of diamonds. We want people to look at the fights more as an event than just a boxing match.”

Ricci looked at Jermain. “I tried to goad Danny into doing a little trash talking with you. He said it was beneath him.”

“Just as well,” Jermain said. “I’m not into that stuff, either.”

Ricci waved over a nearby young man with a baseball cap turned sideways. “Derrick, call the
News
,
Post
, and
Boxingscene
,” the promoter said. “Tell them we had to separate Jermain and Danny Cullen before they got into a fight.”

Yusef frowned. “Is that necessary?”

Ricci spread his hands. “The late great trainer Cus D’Amato was once asked what pro boxing was all about. He said, ‘It’s about putting asses in the seats.’”

“My concerts put quite a few asses in the seats.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not promoting Jay-Z. I’m promoting an orthodox Jew who won’t let me get him fights on the Sabbath, lotsa luck.” Ricci turned back to Derrick. “Tell them to send photogs with the poison pens.”

Derrick nodded and left.

“You know, Danny,” Yusef said, “I was a big fan of your father. It’ll be an honor to see my nephew beat the son of the great Dan Cullen.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” Cullen said with a smile, “but Jermain won’t last six rounds with me.”

Yusef took that with a smile. So did Jermain. “I thought you didn’t trash talk.”

“I was just stating a fact.”

Yusef stared at the boxer for a moment. “You have your father’s resolve.”

The hip-hop mogul started to say something else, but his attention was suddenly caught by something on the dance floor. Motioning for one of his musclemen to come over, Yusef pointed to a skinny kid dancing wildly and bumping into people.

“Samuel,” Yusef said in a measured voice, “see that kid? He shouldn’t have been allowed in here. He has caused trouble at other clubs. I want you to make sure he never dances here again. You understand? He
never
dances here. Am I clear?”

Samuel nodded, then he and the other bodyguard wove their way across the dance floor to the kid. Samuel laid one hand on the kid’s shoulder. He must have pinched a nerve, because the boy fell down. A few dancers stopped to look, but most of them just went on doing their Ecstasy-fueled thing. Samuel bent down and leaned close to the fallen kid’s ear and spoke. The kid pushed himself up and meekly followed the two men to the back of the club, where they disappeared down a corridor.

Yusef pursed his lips. “Once a club gets a reputation for trouble,” he said, “it’s hard to change it. So we act preemptively. That kid should’ve been stopped at the door. I’ll have to talk to my security.”

Cullen checked his watch. “Yusef, it’s getting late for me. My trainer does a bed check. I just wanted to drop by to meet you and Jermain. I’m glad I did.”

“Same here,” Yusef said. “Right, Jermain?” His nephew nodded.

Cullen, Boff, and Bellucci stood up.

“Sonny, call a car for our guests,” Yusef said.

Ricci took out his cell phone, dialed, asked for the car, and then hung up. “It’s on its way.”

Yusef pointed to Boff’s Scotch. “Frank, you didn’t touch your drink. I can have it put in a plastic cup if you want to drink it on the ride back.”

Boff stared at Yusef a moment before answering. “Thanks, but I’m feeling better now. Sorry to have wasted it.”

“No problem.”

Ricci touched Cullen’s arm. “Danny, what do I tell the poison pens when they arrive?”

“Just say I took a swing at Jermain, one of the bodyguards tackled me, and I was thrown out of the club. I’ll deny it, of course.”

“How about I tell them this? You swung a champagne bottle at Jermain’s head. Luckily, one of the guards got in between and took the blow. The guard went to the hospital and needed thirty stitches.”

Yusef pounded his fist on the couch. “No!” he said. “That’s going too far. I don’t want that kind of publicity.”

Ricci shrugged. “Fine.”

Cullen noticed that Yusef’s eyes had gone stone cold. His tone had left no room for argument. “Yusef,” he said, “thanks for having us.”

“My pleasure,” Yusef said in a friendlier voice. “Like Jermain, you conduct yourself in a way that isn’t detrimental to the sport. I’m glad to see that.”

Cullen and Bellucci did pound shakes with Yusef and Jermain. Bellucci held onto Yusef’s hand a moment. “Mikey Bellucci, future welterweight champ of the world, thanks you, too.”

Yusef’s gold grill sparkled in the overhead lights. “So, Mikey, when do you fight next?”

“Two and a half weeks from now at B.B. King’s Blues Club.”

“I’ll try to be there.”

Boff put on his best smile for Yusef. “It was very interesting meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Yusef said.

After Boff shook Yusef’s hand in the conventional way, they headed for the door. Outside the club, they saw an ambulance and three police cars parked near an alley adjacent to the building. Two medics were coming out of the alley carrying a stretcher on which they could see the kid who had been dancing wildly. His face was now contorted in pain. The bodyguards were nowhere to be seen. A cop was questioning the kid, and as the medics put him in back of the vehicle, a couple more cops climbed in with him and closed the doors. As soon as the ambulance pulled away, Boff walked over to the officer who had been talking to the kid. “What happened there?” he asked.

The cop hesitated. “Uh…the kid said he had too much to drink and tripped. Looks like he broke both legs.”

“And you believe that?”

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you, pal?”

“Just a concerned citizen.”

The cop walked away.

Cullen tugged Boff’s arm. “How could he break both legs just by tripping?” he asked.

“He didn’t,” Boff replied. “I’m sure he told them the bouncers did it. But by the time they get to the hospital, the cops in the ambulance will have made sure he agrees it was an accident. Do you remember Lieutenant Harris?”

Harris was a Las Vegas narcotics lieutenant who had been on the payroll of an Israeli mobster. He had killed Cullen’s best friend. Cullen understood what Boff was implying.

“You’re thinking that Yusef pays for protection from the cops?” he said.

“Correct.”

Cullen digested that a moment. “You know what I don’t get? There was no reason for the bodyguards to go that far.”

“Actually,” Boff said, “there was. They were under orders. Do you remember what Yusef told them?”

“That he didn’t want the kid back in his club again.”

“No, his exact words were, ‘I want you to make sure he never dances here again. You understand? He
never
dances here.’ If those bodyguards did their job right—and I’m sure they did—then I’d say that kid doesn’t dance here or anywhere else for a long time.”

A livery car pulled up to the curb and they piled in back.

“So once again, Danny,” Boff said, “what did you learn tonight?”

“Things on the Dark Side aren’t always what they appear to be. You think all that talk by Yusef about not liking violence and gangstas was just talk?”

“I believe so,” Boff said. “And if Yusef is capable of breaking some kid’s legs just for dancing wildly at his club, what does that tell you?”

“That it wouldn’t be a huge stretch to say he’d try to have me killed just to keep his nephew from losing a fight.”

Boff held a hand up. “Yes. But, again, I caution you. Don’t jump to easy conclusions. I have a feeling there’s much more involved here than meets the eye.”

“Like what?”

“When I figure it out, I’ll tell you.”

As the driver pulled away, Cullen thought of something else. “Why did you tell Yusef you had a rough day and order Scotch?”

“By saying that, I set up a smooth transition into mentioning somebody tried to kill me.”

“You think it was Yusef?”

“I don’t know. But if it was, I wanted him to know that I’m making it my mission to find out who hired the Bloods.”

At this, Bellucci looked at Boff. “What does that accomplish?”

“Given my reputation, if Yusef did hire them, he’ll be a bit worried now that I might zero in on him. A rattled guy makes mistakes.” Boff leaned toward the driver. “Do you have any Golden Oldie CDs?”

Before Cullen began his morning workout, McAlary took him outside the gym and sat him down on the steps.

“You missed your bed check last night,” he said. “Was it worth it?”

Cullen recounted what had gone down at Yusef’s club.

McAlary shook his head. “I’m still not buying Boff’s theory that Yusef tried to have you killed.” He looked away for a minute, and when he turned back to Cullen he changed the subject. “Danny, we’ve been through a lot together, starting with your days as an annoying reporter and going to your discovery of Julio and bringing him to me to train. Now you’ve given me a second chance to have a world champion and—”

“I
will
be a champion, Ryan. I promise to be in top shape for the fight. Don’t be pissed at me because of Boff.”

McAlary looked surprised. “I’m not angry anymore, lad. What I wanted to say…what I
need
to say…is I can’t get Nino out of my head. At night I have nightmares about our trilogy. In one, I hit him so hard his head splits in half and he dies on the canvas.” He paused. “You’re well aware of my history in Belfast during the Troubles twenty years ago….”

“Yes.”

“Well, many a time I felt like avenging the deaths of my friends. Only my commitment to boxing kept me from going down that road. But now….” The trainer stopped talking as a massive black kid, over six feet tall and packing about two hundred and eighty pounds of blubber, started plodding up the stairs toward them. Huffing and puffing, his clothes soaked with sweat, the kid stopped when he reached them and put on a friendly smile.

“Hi,” he said, trying not to pant, “I’m here to train with Coach McAlary. Where can I find him?”

“That’s me, lad,” McAlary said. “And who might you be?”

“Alonzo Barkley. I live in
Queens. And, oh, yeah, I fight as a heavyweight.”

“And here I thought you were a middleweight.” The trainer grinned. “How long have you been fighting, son?”

“All my life. I live in the projects.”

“I meant in the ring.”

“About six months. My older brother learned to box in prison. He was training me at the Irish Ropes Boxing Club in Queens, but then he got busted for dealing smack. He’s going back inside, so when I heard about you, I kinda figured since I was coming from Irish Ropes, you’d like another countryman around.”

McAlary nodded at Cullen. “Danny here is Irish, too. Now we’ll have three of us micks in the gym. Okay my fine Irish lad, go inside, grab a locker, and report to my assistant, Angel Sierra. He’ll get you started.”

Alonzo’s face beamed. “Thanks, Coach. You won’t regret it. I’m gonna be a champion.”

McAlary waited for Alonzo to go inside before sitting back down.

“Man, you must like taking in strays,” Cullen said. “That guy’s, like, eighty pounds overweight.”

“So? What kind of shape was tequila-swilling, cigarette-smoking Julio Babbas in when you brought him to me from
Venezuela?”

Cullen smiled. “Yeah. Not a whole lot better.”

“That’s right. So don’t go passing any snap judgments on that young man. And come to think of it, what about you?”

“Me?”

McAlary nodded. “How many trainers do you think would have agreed to take on a twenty-five-year-old reporter who had never boxed in a ring?”

Cullen laughed. “Can’t think of one.”

“I believe if a man has the heart and the discipline, I can make him a fighter. Now, getting back to what I was saying before Alonzo interrupted us. I’ve always felt guilty about not taking revenge for my friends. So this time with Nino, I’m not going to sit back and wait for a justice that might never come.” He hesitated, then plowed on. “Despite my fear that you’ll be distracted for this fight, I want you and Boff to keep searching for Nino’s killer. I owe it to my lads in Belfast who’re pushing up daisies in a Shankill graveyard to do something for once. All I ask is that you put in your time at the gym. Give me one hundred and ten percent. If you can balance that with Boff…well, I guess I can live with it.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Ryan. We’ll find Nino’s killers. What happens to them after that, well, let’s just say justice will be served. One way or the other.”

McAlary, who knew what Boff and Cullen had done to Julio’s killers, nodded in satisfaction, then said, “One last thing. As always, don’t you dare tell Kate what I’m letting you do. She’d bite my head off. And yours. She’s a scary woman, that wife of mine.”