Fight For You

Chapter 7

I lay on the ground for another few minutes. I thought about just leaving. I could have slipped out the door and not said a word to anyone else. I could have just gone to the fight and forgotten about my conversation with my father.

But instead I decided to be a man and picked myself up off the ground and walked back out into the living room.

"Nicky! You get those numbers figured out with the Chapman account?" Dominic asked as I sauntered into the living room, my hands in my pockets.

I glanced at my dad who didn't even bother looking at me. He sat in one of the leather armchairs, sipping from a crystal rocks glass.

"Yeah, Dominic. That's what I was doing. And of course I got it figured out. I'm Nicky fucking Ragusa."

Dominic laughed, slapping me on the back. "That's my fucking guy. Not only is he good looking, but he's smart as hell. Not like my dumb-as-shit cousins."

Mark grabbed Dominic by the collar of his shirt and then put him in a headlock. "I may be dumb, but I can still beat the shit out of you, pretty boy."

Dominic groaned, absently slapping at his arms. With all the training I'd done with Dominic in the cage, you'd think he'd be a better fighter, but the kid never listened. Luckily his mom came and bailed him out.

"All right, enough you two." Aunt Jo smacked Mark in the back of the head. "The dining room is set and dinner is ready. Mongiat!"

Mark released Dominic's head and then padded into the dining room after Aunt Jo. I followed behind the two of them. Seeing the large spread on the two dining room tables made me wish I'd left early. Uncle Guido cooked enough for an army and I couldn't eat any of it. If I was even a half a pound overweight at weigh-in, I'd automatically be disqualified. Which would mean that El Lobo would win.

"You know, I should get going Aunt Jo. I've got a lot of work to do." I scratched the back of my head, grasping at straws and trying to think of some sort of an excuse. I should've had this planned out better before I came.

Aunt Jo grabbed onto both my shoulders, forcing me down into a chair next to my sister. "Nonsense. You have nothing else you need to do but be with your family and put some meat on your bones." She patted my back.

I stared at the food on the table. All of the traditional Sicilian foods were there: Swordfish, pasta alla norma, Caprese salad, and enough breads, cheeses and desserts that I was putting on weight from just looking at them. There was no way I was going to get away with just eating a little something.

"Okay, everyone sit, sit. Before you mongiat, Uncle Guido is going to say our prayers!" Aunt Maria yelled and Uncle Guido stood at the head of the table.

I thought this meant that everyone would keep their head down and be quiet, but instead Aunt Jo took that as her chance to load my plate up with food. I wanted to protest, but if I even tried to open my mouth she would smack my hand, and within the minute-long prayer my plate was overflowing with food.

"Ey, how come Nicky got all the first bites?" Phil asked as soon as he put his head up and looked across the table.

Aunt Jo pressed her lips together and squeezed my cheeks. "When your face looks as skinny as his then I'll start piling your plate too."

"Gee, thanks, Aunt Jo," he replied but that didn't stop him from piling a big serving of pasta onto his plate.

"Aunt Jo, I'm really not hungry," I whispered.

"Just have a little something, Nick. You're going to offend your uncle if you don't take just a bite." She patted my knee.

I gripped onto the fork. All these weeks I'd done nothing but train. I hadn't touched a carb in years. I'd dehydrated my body before the fight, making sure I didn't gain a single pound, and I didn't want to throw it all away just so I wouldn't hurt my uncle's feelings.