AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mickey Finn threw the first punch right around 10 p. m.
I knew this because that was the time our Christmas Eve party was winding down, and CindyLou had gone off to get Darci ready for bed. We’d decided to have a small gathering for our first Christmas Eve. While Christmas would be spent with our parents, significant relatives and a scattering of friends, tonight was more intimate, and exactly the way we’d planned it.
Besides, it was also Mickey’s birthday.
He’d turned twenty-eight, and all he’d wanted was a small party with his best friends, his favorite girls… which included Darci, CindyLou, Tammy and Donna… and his two male role models, Jimmy Jennings and Daryl Geller. Both men had taken Mickey under their wings and Mickey had become an actual adult because of it.
Who knew?
This time it wasn’t Daryl who was on the receiving end of the punch. It was a black punching bag hanging from a metal contraption made specifically for the punching bag. We were out in our three-car garage that Mickey had converted into a gym, complete with a couple punching bags, and a speed bag. Plus, Scotty and I had added weight machines and free weights to the mix. We now had our own private gym that even CindyLou used on a regular basis.
Mickey had wanted to add a boxing ring, but CindyLou and Donna had put their collective feet down so hard to squash the idea that Mickey was still sending them weekly flowers to make up for even mentioning the “irresponsible” idea.
Tonight, Mickey wore red boxing gloves, while Daryl, now Mickey’s private trainer, wore a black set. Both sets of gloves looked lethal, and I was glad this little demonstration only consisted of two people. I knew for certain that Scotty and I wanted no part of it.
Yes, we punched the bags, and yes, Scotty was the master when it came to the speed bag, but when it came to demonstrating punching anything in front of folks, neither of us wanted to participate. Especially with Daryl around.
Who knew where one of his lethal punches might land?
“Don’t punch with your arm,” Daryl warned Mickey. “Punch with your whole body. That’s what you’ve been doing wrong, son. You’re punching with your arm. The strength is in your body, not your arm. Let me show you.” Mickey stepped out of the way, and allowed Daryl to demonstrate.
Daryl threw a punch that moved the entire bag and the contraption holding it about three feet from where it had been standing. Everyone gave a collective sigh. A punch like that would take someone double Daryl’s size right down on their ass.
“Holy shit, Daryl!” Mickey said. “No wonder you won so many fights in the ring.”
Neither Scotty or I said a word. We merely gazed at each other, happy we weren’t in the line of fire.
“I won all of ‘em. I was undefeated when I retired,” Daryl shot back. “Could’a won the title if I’d stayed in the ring, but Miss Donna stole my heart, and boxin’ wasn’t something she could tolerate. So, I stepped away, bought the ranch, and never looked back.”
“You ever miss it?” I asked, wondering how anyone could miss getting pummeled for a living. Still, I secretly knew Daryl had loved the sport. Probably why he was still fit as any twenty-year-old and could throw a punch that would knock that twenty-year-old right on his ass.
All eyes were on Daryl. He was our living legend, and living legends could never live up to their reputations. However, Daryl was a cowboy of a different breed.
“Never really gave it up. At least not everything. I still work the bag, and ranchin’ keeps me in shape. But every now and then, I get up to Cricket and get into the ring at Rocky’s Boxing Gym with some of the younger fighters. That’s what keeps me fit.”
“That explains it then,” Scotty said. “I always wondered how you did it.”
“Now you know,” Daryl said, punching the bag once again with the same results.
The fact that at Daryl’s age, he could still keep up with the new young guns in boxing was so impressive, it just reminded me of why I was glad Daryl had finally come around to accepting CindyLou’s choice of lifestyle. The change in him seemed miraculous, at best. As if he’d had some sort of divine intervention.
But it wasn’t CindyLou who had convinced him.
It was Mickey.
He and Mickey had become so close over the last few months, they were like father and son. Daryl had essentially saved Mickey’s life, and he did it with kindness and an endless amount of support.
Truth be told, we were all like Daryl’s sons now, and we were better off for it. Turned out, the man had so much wisdom to shed on us, that we couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
He was instrumental in Mickey’s decision not to sign with the Jess Davis Band. As it turned out, Mickey picked the better path and kept that band together that had played behind the girls with guitars on that very first night that CindyLou and Scotty had performed. Mickey named the band Sweet Darci, and we couldn’t talk him out of it. They were now regulars at Dirty Coyote with Scotty and CindyLou doing most of the vocals… at least on the days they weren’t backing Tammy and her “girls.”
For now, while Darci was still so young, both CindyLou and Mickey loved the arrangement. Plus, it gave CindyLou and Scotty time to improve on their performance style. They just kept getting better and better, with a following that was reaching levels of any other popular country band.
And as far as the boxing lessons for Mickey… about damn time.
“I’m fading, hon,” Donna said to her man, right before she yawned. “Can we go home now? I’ve got a big day of cooking tomorrow, and I don’t want to be dragging.”
“Sure, my love. We can go whenever you’re ready,” Daryl told her, slipping his hands out of the gloves.
