To Win, To Lose

By Peggy

Thunk! A solid left jab snapped Vince's head back. His eyes rolled up and he slowly crumpled to the mat. The roar of the crowd was deafening as Cesar danced back to his corner to wait for the count. Torn between hoping his friend would stay down, and praying that he was all right, Cesar wanted this fight to be over. He hated fighting his friends. If it weren't for the ghosts of the past that continually haunted him, he wouldn't have taken this fight at all.

"Five, six, seven…"

Vince struggled to pull one knee up beneath him.

"Eight, nine…"

He collapsed on the mat again.

"Ten!"

The referee raised Cesar's hand, "The winner…by a knockout…Cesar 'El Califa' DOMINGUEZ."

I did it! I won! The ring was suddenly full of people offering congratulations and patting him on the back. His eyes searched through the crowd to find his friend, who was just now being helped to his feet by the ring attendants. He wanted to go to him but there were too many people in the way. Someone threw a towel around his neck and his robe was placed around his shoulders. The corner man dabbed at the cut on his upper lip just as the press started firing questions at him from all sides.

"How does it feel to knock out your friend, Cesar?"

Shaking his head at the obvious stupidity of the question, Cesar answered, "Better than the other way around, I guess."

"Do you think you are free of the stigma of the 'Garden' now?"

"I don't have to prove myself to anyone, but yes, it feels better to win than to lose."

Bending down, he climbed through the ropes and started for the dressing rooms, hoping to discourage the press. He wanted to know if Vince was all right. Some aspirin and an ice pack would, no doubt, help his own aches and pains.

Questions were still flying at him, but he ignored them and kept walking until the dressing room doors closed behind him. He sat down and an attendant started to remove his gloves. The ring doctor came in to check his cut lip and battered eyes.

"Is Vince okay?" Cesar asked the doctor.

"You are both pretty bruised up, but you'll heal with time."

"I want to see him."

"He's getting ready for a shower, then we'll be taking him to the hospital to get his eye stitched up."

Cesar got up as soon as the attendant finished removing the gloves and tape from his hands and headed for the shower so he could be ready to leave with Vince.

Showered and dressed, he walked out of the dressing room. The promoter slapped him on the back and handed him an envelope, but he crammed it in the pocket of his jacket without looking at it. He was only worried about Vince. He arrived on the sidewalk just in time to see Grace helping Vince into the ambulance for the trip to the hospital. "Wait, wait, wait," he called to them.

Grace looked back, but didn't acknowledge his wave. She climbed in beside Vince and slammed the door. The ambulance pulled away before Vince could catch up to them.

Left standing on the curb in a stinky cloud of exhaust fumes, Cesar ran his fingers through his hair as he looked up with another rant to the Heavens in Spanish. What good is it to win if I lose my two best friends in the process? It was just a lucky punch that won the fight. It could just as easily have gone the other way. Are they mad at me for winning? Did they expect me to throw the fight so I could be accused all over again? Would Grace be mad at Vince if he had won?

Even if they are mad at me, I have to know if Vince is all right. Cesar walked around the corner to find a taxi to take him to the hospital.

"Is Vince okay?" Cesar asked Grace when he walked in and saw her sitting in the waiting room.

"How could you do that to your friend," she snapped back.

He shrugged, "Would you rather Vince had won? Would it have been better if he had knocked me out? It was just a lucky punch, that's all."

"Hmmmph, lucky punch for you maybe, not for him. It's harder for him to lose, he's older."

"Well, I'm sorry! I can't take that jab back. Is he okay, I want to know."

"He's battered and bruised, and so is his ego."

"And I'm not battered and bruised?" he asked, pointing to his swollen, black eyes.

Grace looked away and wouldn't answer.

Cesar sat down on the opposite side of the waiting room determined to see Vince for himself.

At last, Vince walked out through the emergency room doors. He saw Cesar, but didn't speak to him. He reached for Grace's hand and helped her stand up. She slid her arm through his; they turned their backs on Cesar and left the hospital.

Cesar remained sitting, stunned by the snub from his two best friends in the world. First, Grace broke off their relationship without warning, now this. They were the only family he had, and they didn't want anything to do with him. How long he sat there, he didn't know, but a nurse approached him and asked if he needed help when she saw his face. "No, I was waiting for someone, but not anymore," he muttered. He left the hospital on foot. As tired as he was from the fight, he felt like he needed to walk. Vince and Grace were probably on their way back to L.A. by now, without him.

His shoulders slumped as he trudged along the sidewalks of Las Vegas, oblivious to the bright lights, horns honking, bustling people, and curious looks at his bruised and swollen face. He felt so alone. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief to dab at the tears threatening to escape, and he pulled the envelope from his pocket. Tearing it open, he found the check with his winnings. $25,000. Why $25,000? He had won the fight, and lost his friends for $25,000? What had he missed in the contract? He was so worried about the specified 'title shot' that he missed the rest? He would get back in touch with the promoters as soon as possible to find out the details of his promised shot at the title.

Well, at least he could get a room until he could decide where to go from here. He found a bank that was open and cashed the check. No doubt things would look much better after a good night's rest and a bit of healing.

He headed back to the Mandalay Bay. At least there he might be able to contact the promoters tomorrow. Luckily, there was a room. The elevator doors opened on his floor and Cesar stepped out into the hall, nearly mowing down a young lady waiting to enter the elevator for the trip down. Dodging to miss her, Cesar staggered, off-balance from weariness of mind and body.

Startled, the young lady spoke, "Cesar, is that you? Ohhh, your poor face! Are you all right? Can I help you?"

Desperate for someone to care about him, Cesar nodded, "Si, gracias." He handed her his room key, without even really looking at her.

She looped her arm through his and guided him down the hall until she came to the room number showing on the key. She opened the door, helped him inside, and sat him on the bed.

The stress of the day and the strength-draining fight finally took their toll on him and he toppled over on the bed. He was so used up that he forgot he hadn't eaten since mid-morning, in the California desert, with Vince and Grace.

The girl lifted his feet up on the bed, removed his shoes, pulled a blanket over him, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. This man had always stirred up her maternal instincts…and others as well. Oh, Cesar, I hate seeing your handsome face so messed up.

Tresta Daniels was a sports news writer, and had been a fan of Cesar's since the early days in Philadelphia. Her heart broke, along with his, when he was knocked out so quickly in his title bout at the Garden. She cried when he struggled so valiantly to get up before the count ended and didn't make it. The look on his face as he left the ring stayed with her for months. Cesar dropped out of sight for a time after that fight. She heard rumors that he was gay, but she didn't believe them. He was just emotionally torn up by the stories of him throwing the fight, and the humiliation of the entire event.

She finally heard that he was in L.A., so she followed him and kept up with his activities as much as she could. Thanks to her friend at the gym, where Cesar worked out, she found out about his sudden invitation to fight Vince in Las Vegas. She dropped everything and immediately went to Nevada to see the fight.

She cringed with every blow he received, but noticed that he was very quick on his feet and his jabs were lightning fast. He had developed into a very talented fighter, and she was elated when he won, in spite of the beating he took. He should have been happy, but from the looks of him now, something else must have happened after the fight to drag him down again. When he awakens, I'll get it out of him, without a doubt. I wonder if he'll remember me.

Several times during the night, she checked on him to be sure he wasn't suffering from a concussion from one of the blows to his head, but he seemed only to be in an exhausted sleep. There were a few times she heard him muttering in Spanish, but couldn't understand what he was saying. She only understood that he was deeply troubled.

Because she was up so many times in the night, they both slept quite late the next morning. She woke up first and took a shower and got ready for the day, then ordered room service, determined that he would wake up and eat.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and talked to him, patting his shoulder to get him to wake up. At last his hand moved, but his eyes did not open. He reached for her and pulled her down beside him, her back spooned against his chest, and her head next to his on the pillow. He whispered Spanish words in her ear and kissed the back of her neck. She could have sworn he called her "Grace" as he slipped back into sleep.

So that's it! He has a broken heart. She sat up and shook his shoulder again. Room service will be here in a few minutes; I have to get him in the shower so he can eat before the food gets cold.

"Cesar, wake up! Breakfast will be here in a minute."

His eyes opened as wide as they could through the puffiness surrounding them, and looked around. "Where am I?"

"You're in a room at the Mandalay Bay Hotel?"

"Who are you? Where are Grace and Vince?"

"I don't know where Grace and Vince are. I found you wandering around the hotel last night in an exhausted stupor. I brought you to your room and settled you in so you could sleep. As for who I am, I'm hoping you'll remember me when you are really awake. Think back to the Philadelphia days."

Cesar struggled to sit up, wincing as sore muscles and bruises reminded him of the fight the day before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put his head in his hands and felt the puffiness around his eyes. "I'll bet I'm a sight this morning. I don't think I want to see in a mirror."

"Do you think you can make it through a shower? Breakfast will be here any minute."

"I'm okay, just groggy from sleep." He stood up and headed for the bathroom.

Breakfast was spread on a small table by the window. The bacon and Spanish omelet smelled great and his stomach felt much better when he had eaten. He kept glancing at the girl across the table from him. He guessed she was about 5' 4" tall, willowy and graceful when she walked. Wavy blonde hair was piled on top of her head with wisps here and there framing a perfectly shaped face. Large, baby blue eyes with thick, dark lashes and well-shaped brows looked at him steadily, hiding nothing. Perfectly white teeth shined through softly tinted lips when she smiled. Her perfume was light and airy, not overpowering. She wore a cotton/lycra knit dress in a shade of blue just slightly darker than her eyes in a length that ended in a slight flare just above her knees. It gently hugged her curves.

Verrry nice, he thought. She does look familiar. Philadelphia days she said. "Daniels? Is it Daniels…Tracy, something?"

"You're close," she smiled. "I'm Tresta Daniels. We spoke several times in Philadelphia. I'm a sports writer, and a huge fan of yours."

"Hmmmm," he smiled, "I have a fan. Thank you for taking care of me last night, and this morning. Breakfast was good. Sleep and food were what I needed."

"I saw the fight. Congratulations on the win! You were wonderful!"

"You really think so?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Thank you."

"I also think you need someone to take care of you. You weren't in very good condition last night."

"Things happened," he commented without explanation. "I have to go talk to the promoters. They have to give me another title shot. Then I have to get back to L.A. and talk to Vince."

"Would you like to fly back to L.A. with me?"

"Aren't you going to Philadelphia?"

"No, I don't live there anymore. I live in L.A."

"Ohhh…then I would like that very much."

"I'll arrange for your ticket while you talk to the promoters and gather up your boxing gear."

Cesar felt much better as he walked down to the offices to discuss business. It feels good to have a friend in my corner. A fan, how about that? He was smiling to himself as he walked into the office.

"Cesar, my man, that was a helluva fight!" Hank Goody moved forward, hand extended. "Joe Domino left early this morning, but he wanted me to tell you that you are back in his good graces. You are no longer on the black list."

Cesar took in this bit of news with a shrug of irony, but the atmosphere of respect had increased immensely, and that definitely felt good.

Surprisingly, the contract signing went smoothly, and seemed very straightforward. The fight would take place in nine months, so there was plenty of time to get ready. There was a smaller purse for the loser of yesterday's fight, but Vince hadn't picked it up. Cesar offered to deliver it, and after signing appropriate responsibility for the delivery of the money, he returned to his room to see if Tresta was ready to leave. He repeated aloud the name in his thoughts, rolling the 'r' to give it a Spanish flair. Tr-r-r-esta. It was a fun name to say he decided, and repeated it several times as he made his way back to the room.

Tresta was waiting. She had gathered her belongings from her own room, and Cesar's ticket was arranged for. They could leave for the airport as soon as he finished his business. A light tap on the door brought her to her feet.

"Tresta, it's Cesar, are you ready?"

She opened the door with her bags in hand.

"I have to stop downstairs at the locker room to pick up my gear," he winked as he reached for her bags. Placing his hand lightly at the small of her back, he guided her to the elevator. When the door closed, he pulled her against him with a little chuckle. He felt good with her by his side.

Tresta's heart skipped a few beats as she smiled up at him, wondering what had happened to change his mood so dramatically. Was she really standing here within the circle of his arm? Did she dare hope that her long years of dreaming and longing might come to reality?

The trip on the plane from Las Vegas to Los Angeles went very quickly. They talked of events in their lives since they had last seen each other in Philadelphia. She was easy to talk to, and Cesar found himself confiding his innermost thoughts about the happenings at the Garden. He felt that she didn't judge him or find him lacking in integrity. They were laughing and joking in easy camaraderie by the time the plane rolled down the runway and stopped by the passenger-unloading ramp.

"Would you like me to go with you to see Vince and Grace?"

"Would you? That would be great!" For some reason, a feeling of relief and comfort settled over him knowing he wouldn't have to face them alone. It would be a salve to his broken heart to be able to face Grace with a beautiful girl by his side.

Tresta's car was parked in the airport parking, so they loaded their luggage in the trunk. She took Cesar home to unpack. They made plans to meet for dinner and Cesar touched her chin lightly with his fingertips, and placed a feathery kiss on her cheek before she left. Glancing into the rearview mirror, she could see him watching as she drove away. A warm and happy feeling invaded her consciousness and she allowed herself to hope for a much longed for romantic relationship with Cesar.

Cesar didn't call Vince or Grace to let them know he would be coming by. They probably thought he was still in Las Vegas with no transportation. He knocked on Vince's door, but there was no answer. That meant he would be at Grace's. She must be taking very good care of him.

Holding Tresta's hand for courage, he rang the doorbell at Grace's apartment. On the second ring, the door opened slightly. Cesar put his foot through the door before she could close it again. "I need to see Vince, I have his check."

"Vince, Cesar is here. He says he has your check." Grace pulled the door open, looking from Cesar to Tresta and back to Cesar as she noticed their linked hands.

Vince didn't get up from the chair in front of the TV.

Cesar squatted at the side of the chair. "Are you all right? I don't want to lose you as a friend."

Vince looked up at Tresta and saw that her hand rested on Cesar's shoulder. "It looks like you're doing all right for friends."

"As it happens, I've known Tresta longer than I've known you. She was there for me last night when I really needed a friend."

"You needed a friend? You're the big shot! You won the fight. I'm the one who needed a friend."

"You had Grace," Cesar said quietly. He held the envelope out to Vince, then dropped it onto his lap when he didn't take it.

"I have to train for a title shot nine months from now. I would really appreciate your help. You know where to find me."

With his arm lightly across Tresta's shoulders, he steered her toward the door. He touched Grace lightly with one finger, sliding it down her cheek as they walked past her and out the door.

Grace watched as Cesar held the car door for Tresta to get in. She watched as he walked around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. She was still watching as they drove away down the street.

Cesar didn't say anything for several blocks. He seemed lost in thought as they sat waiting for a red light to change.

"Would you like to go to my place and watch a movie?" Tresta asked. "I have a good collection of Antonio Banderas movies."

"Do you have 'Play It To The Bone'?" he laughed and leaned across to kiss her full on the lips. He kissed her again, and again. He didn't stop kissing her until the sound of horns honking behind them clued him in that the light had turned green. Clasping her hand in his and grinning from ear to ear, he stepped on the gas.