###
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Richard, get up, the sun is shining!"
Early in the morning, Anthony was at the bedroom door, banging on it non-stop with his chubby hands.
"What do you want?"
Richard, frowning and clutching his sore back, opened the door with an unhappy expression.
"Hehe, did you overwork yourself last night, strained your back?"
Anthony squinted his small eyes, laughing lewdly.
"Overworked my ass!"
Richard glared at him, holding his back as he walked back to the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.
"Hey~ wait, why are you alone? Where are those two beautiful women?"
Anthony peeked around, asking.
"No women!"
Richard groaned from under the covers.
"How can there be no women? You disappeared with Gisele and Angela before the party ended last night. Didn't you come back early to do something naughty?"
Anthony chuckled.
"No, I took them home."
"Took them home?!"
Anthony's eyes widened in disbelief. He sniffed around the bed, finding no trace of perfume, "Richard, are you out of your mind? Last night, everyone was drinking, the mood was great, everything would have naturally progressed. Why didn't you do anything? Aren't you tempted by two beautiful women?"
"Tempted, but I'm a person who can control myself, unlike someone who drags anything that moves onto the bed, be it fragrant or foul."
Richard retorted.
Anthony blushed, scratching his chubby face, "Then what's wrong with your back? If you didn't do that, why are you clutching your back?"
"Don't remind me, you guys are real bastards. Throwing me up and not catching me, nearly broke my back."
Richard cursed, pounding the bed.
Anthony burst into laughter, "But it didn't break, did it? Hey, don't sleep, we need to go collect our winnings."
"What winnings?"
"The bets. We placed $50,000 in several casinos, betting on you winning, winning in the second or third round, winning by TKO, and other minor bets. I roughly calculated, we could make around $480,000. Damn, if Montel had held on a bit longer, we could have made another fifty or sixty grand. Such a pity."
Anthony slapped his thigh.
"Be content!"
Richard got up, twisting his back, "You can go collect the winnings. I have something else to do later."
"What? A date with Gisele?"
Anthony asked.
"Is your mind only filled with women?" Richard shook his head, getting dressed, "I'm going to visit Montel at the hotel. What I did yesterday was a bit underhanded; I need to apologize in person."
"Is that necessary? There's no rule against targeting a weak spot in a match. Injuring him was your skill."
"You can say that, but it's not right to do so. Montel is a veteran. It's beneficial to talk to him more."
"Alright, suit yourself. I'll go collect the winnings."
Anthony jumped off the bed.
"Wait, a producer approached me last night about a new role, a third male lead. I wasn't planning to take such a small role, but this guy is Lewis's associate, so it's hard to refuse. Here's the business card, go and negotiate, see what it's about."
Richard handed over a card.
"A third male lead is pretty good too. Haha, Richard, I feel like we're about to hit it big."
"Not yet. Until we're on Forbes, we're not there."
Richard said, looking in the mirror.
"Tsk, one moment it's a small role, the next it's Forbes. You're getting better at showing off. Teach me sometime."
"Sure!"
Richard smirked at the mirror, looking handsome as ever. Do I even need to show off?
---
"Montel, how's your injury?"
In the hotel suite, Richard put down the gifts and greeted Montel.
"Are you here to mock me?"
Montel leaned back on the sofa, his one-eyed look quite cool.
"No, I'm here to apologize."
"No need!"
Montel snorted, his face dark.
Last night's match hit him hard. He came here just to train and hone his skills, but ended up taking a huge fall.
This morning, many people called, asking how he lost to a rookie, and reporters asked if he was throwing the match for money. He was so angry he smashed his phone.
Seeing this pretty boy now, he felt like punching him, but probably couldn't win.
"Montel, I went too hard yesterday to win, and I said some things that were out of line. Please forgive me."
Richard said sincerely.
"Too hard? You almost blinded my right eye."
Montel pointed at his eye angrily.
He had five stitches on his brow, a retinal hemorrhage, a few more hits could have blinded him.
"Sorry, Montel. My target was your brow, but your movements were too agile. Precision was difficult."
"Fuck, are you saying it's my fault? I should have stood still for you to hit?"
Montel slapped the sofa hard, his eye hurting again, and he groaned, covering it.
"Montel, are you okay?"
Richard asked, concerned.
"Get lost! You're here to piss me off, right?"
Montel snapped.
"No, I'm here to sincerely apologize."
Richard said earnestly.
"Hmph! Tell me honestly, if we meet in the ring again, would you use the same tactic?"
"I would! The ring is like a battlefield. You exploit the enemy's weakest point."
Richard said without hesitation.
Montel stared at him coldly, then suddenly smiled, "Kid, you're good, very good. Your punches are steady, precise, and powerful. Your movements are agile, and your physical condition is insanely good. You're not inferior to any renowned fighter. Have you considered going pro?"
"Yes, that's my plan."
Richard smiled.
"Go for it, go pro, challenge Roy Jones Jr., take back the belt. Roy is much tougher than me. His body, skills, defense, almost flawless. I'm curious how you'd handle him?"
"I don't know, but I will win."
Richard said confidently.
"Haha, youthful exuberance, reminds me of myself."
Montel laughed, then sighed, "I wanted to fight Roy Jones Jr. again and reclaim the belt, but seeing you, I have to admit I'm getting old. Time to think about retiring."
"Montel, your skills are top-notch in this field, far better than mine. If I hadn't used that tactic, I'd have lost last night."
"Don't say that. In the ring, as long as it’s within the rules, any tactic is fair. Others have noticed my weakness, but they didn't have your skills or resilience. Knowing it was useless. You used it and won, that's your ability, so no need to apologize."
Montel never blamed him. In the ring, injuries are inevitable. Like James Hardin, who was nearly beaten to death, he couldn't blame anyone, just his own lack of skill.
"Let's go have a drink. I'll tell you about Roy Jones Jr. I've fought him twice and know him well. My insights might help you in the future."
"Thanks!"
---
(End of the chapter)