Volk's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

The next morning, O'Malley didn't film him. He tossed Volk a water bottle and sat beside him on the mats. The man who owned this gym, Volk's old online rival and future opponent, had gone quiet since their five rounds. Now he spoke like a partner, not a rival. "You proved your point," O'Malley said. "Camp's going good. We earned a night off." Volk wiped sweat from his neck. "A night off." "The big casino across town," O'Malley said. His dreadlocks swung as he grinned. "You eat two pounds of beef a day. You can gamble one night. Come on, old man. Live a little." Volk thought about his family asleep at the mansion. He thought about the taco that made him a joke. Then he looked at O'Malley, really looked. The man had stopped laughing at him and started respecting him. That was worth something. "One night," Volk said. The casino rose up bright and huge, its tall front covered in bold patterns. Inside, lights flashed and machines rang. O'Malley walked in like he owned the place. He slapped a hundred on the blackjack table and lost it in two hands. He laughed anyway. Volk played careful, won a little, kept his chips in neat stacks. "You gamble like you fight," O'Malley said. "Patient. Boring." "I gamble like a man with a mortgage," Volk said. They moved to the craps table. O'Malley handed Volk the dice. "Blow on them, champ. For luck." Volk rolled. The table cheered. O'Malley roared and threw an arm around him. For the first time since Volk came to Arizona, the two men stood on the same side. No rivalry. No camera. Just two fighters, winning together. They ate steaks at midnight. O'Malley leaned back and got serious. "I meant what I said. You're the real thing. And when we fight, I'm still gonna beat you." Volk smiled. "I know you'll try." "That's the thing," O'Malley said. "I respect you now. Doesn't mean I go easy. Means the opposite." He pointed his fork at Volk. "I watched you spar. I know your speed, your body shots, your timing. A guy who hates you fights on emotion. A guy who respects you? He studies you. He's dangerous." The words landed hard. Volk set down his glass. The casino noise faded behind the truth of it. He had turned his enemy into a brother. That had felt like a win all night. But a brother who trained him every day now knew him better than any opponent ever had. They left as the sun came up. O'Malley clapped him on the back at the door. "Best night in months," he said, and meant it. Volk drove home with a fat stack of chips and a cold feeling in his gut. He had the respect he wanted. He had a real friend now. And the one man who would fight him for his belt had just become the one man who understood exactly how to beat him.