Antonio, a renowned boxer in NYC, revels in his fame, money, and success with the ladies. But as his most important fight approaches, his usual trainer departs unexpectedly and is replaced with his daughter, Danielle. Antonio, fueled by his ingraine...
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DANIELLE
"He's an asshole, Dad," I tell him, while roughly unpacking my suitcases. He should be glad he's on FaceTime, because if he were here I'd have him in a headlock. I wouldn't be able to hold him for long, because he's stronger than me and was never one to let me win, but for the few seconds I had him I would give him a piece of my mind. I huff at the sight of him sitting relaxing in a beach chair, donning shades, seemingly basking in the sound of the ocean breeze.
He did this on purpose.
He wanted to take a vacation. He knew I wouldn't refuse the offer to coach his best athlete. And had I known Antonio was an insufferable, arrogant, and dickish prick – who mind you, addresses women as bitches, I would have never taken him up on his offer.
"Oh! And he addresses women as, excuse my language, bitches," I tell my dad in frustration. "He's a piece of shit, Dad. I can't work with him. I can't do it. End of story."
I slam the dresser shut after putting away the last of my clothes. When I look back to my phone I see that my dad has taken off his sunglasses and is tirelessly rubbing his eyebrows.
Ten seconds later he puts his sunglasses on and takes a deep breath.
Then for another ten seconds he doesn't say a word.
I pick up the phone thinking I lost connection, "Hello? ... Dad?"
"You can't let him get to you, honey," he finally says.
But it's too late for that. Antonio has already gotten under my skin. "Dad, you're not listening–"
"No! You listen to me," he barks, catching me off guard. My dad's always had a firm demeanor, shaped by his years as a boxer and later as a coach. But this kind of intensity, directed at me – his little girl – is rare. "What have I always told you?"
"Don't trust pigeons because they're all spies," I quip, attempting to lighten the mood.
He chuckles, and I sense some of the tension withering. "That, yes. But also to never let them see you fail. That's what the world wants, Dani. They want to see you buckle under the pressure. But we must embrace the pressure because–"
"–it makes us stronger," I finish his words. I've grown up hearing this speech. From the first time I was picked on in elementary school, to dealing with unfair professors who didn't care to see me succeed.
"Because it makes us stronger," he affirms. "They want to keep you down, but you can't let them." His words resonate, and I bite m cheek in an effort to hold back tears.
"You're the strongest woman I know, Dani," he continues. "Now don't tell your mother that; she'll kill me." That makes both of us laugh out loud. "But it's true Danielle. You've never been one to succumb to pressure, so don't start now."
I discreetly wipe the tear and give him a nod. He's right. I'm stronger than this, and I can't just let an opportunity like this slip through my fingers.
