章 117: ### Chapter 117: Jokes
"Richard, is the injury on your leg serious?" Charlize asked over the phone.
"It's not serious, just a minor injury. A few days of rest will fix it," Richard replied, holding the phone.
"Aren't you filming? How did you get injured?"
"I'm playing the fourth lead, so I don't have many scenes. When I had free time, I went out to sea for some fun and got into a bit of trouble. How about you? Is *The Cider House Rules* done filming?"
Richard changed the subject.
"Not yet, it will take about two more weeks. It's a pity you weren't here; otherwise, we could have filmed together," Charlize sighed lightly.
"Ha ha, no worries. When I become a big star, I'll tell the producers that the leading lady must be Charlize Theron, or I won't accept the role."
"Ha ha, are you dreaming? By the time you're a big star, I already will be one. Maybe I can help you get a role," Charlize laughed.
"Then I'll thank you in advance."
"You're welcome!"
Charlize chuckled softly. "Richard, today I got a bit too into character during filming, and I'm feeling a bit down. Do you have any jokes? Tell me one."
"Oh? Feeling down and calling me is the right move. I've got loads of jokes, both clean and dirty. Which do you want to hear?"
"Of course, I want to hear them all!" Charlize laughed.
"Let's start with a clean one. You know, I like to skinny dip."
"I didn't know that. Do you really?"
"Yes, when I was vacationing in Sicily, I often swam naked in the sea."
"Ha ha, go on!"
"One time, after swimming a few laps naked, I was exhausted and climbed back onto the yacht. My assistant, Mike, suddenly pointed at my leg and said, 'Doesn't that hurt?' I asked what he meant and looked down. Guess what?"
"Ha ha, did a fish bite it off?"
"No, there were two big shrimp hanging on it. I was too tired to notice."
"Ha ha, I don't believe you. You shameless guy, you said it was a clean joke. How is that clean?"
Charlize scolded.
"Do you still want to hear the dirty one?"
"Tell me!"
Charlize replied coolly.
"Last month, I sent you a bottle of white wine and two bags of dried shrimp, didn't I? Did you eat them? How did they taste?"
"Bastard, don't tell me those shrimp were caught that way?"
Charlize gritted her teeth.
"Heh, doesn't that make them more meaningful?"
"Ah, you bastard! Where are you? I'm going to fly over and kill you!"
Charlize cursed.
"Hey, darling, don't be angry. It was just a joke. I released those two shrimp."
"Hmph, you bastard. Do you know that every time I call you, I want to strangle you?"
"Ha ha, Charlize, feeling better now? Want to hear another clean joke?"
"Fine, keep going. I want to see how many shrimp you can catch, ha ha~"
"Alright, listen up."
Richard drank a glass of water and continued telling clean jokes.
Knock, knock~
After chatting for a while, there was a knock on the door. He said a few words to Charlize and got up to open it.
"Hey, Reese, come on in!"
Reese Witherspoon was at the door, wearing a hat and scarf, holding a bouquet of carnations.
"Richard, these are for you!" Reese handed him the flowers with a smile.
"Ha ha, thanks!"
Closing the door, they walked into the living room.
"Richard, is your leg okay?" Reese asked, holding his arm.
"It's fine, just a minor injury. Did you finish filming?"
"Yes, I have a few weeks off now," Reese said with a light smile.
"That's great. You seem to have lost a lot of weight recently. Was it for a role?"
Richard asked, walking to the counter.
"No, did I really lose weight?"
Reese twirled around, wearing a blue and red plaid Loro Piana cashmere sweater and blue jeans, looking slim and delicate with large eyes that made her cheeks look smaller.
"Yes, your figure is more prominent, giving you a delicate beauty."
Richard smiled and picked up a cup. "Want something to drink? We have coffee, tea, and white wine."
"I'll get it myself. You should rest since you're injured."
Reese gently pushed him aside and made herself a cup of tea.
"You're treating me like I'm disabled," Richard shrugged and returned to the sofa.
"I have a match next month. Do you want to come watch? I'll save you a ticket."
"Are you still competing in your condition?"
"Of course, not only will I compete, but I'll also win the championship belt."
"Great, my dad is planning to come and cheer for you too!"
"Thanks, I won't let Fred down."
Richard smiled, clenching his fist.
---
After many days of rest, Richard's right leg was mostly healed. He started jogging, doing yoga, practicing boxing, and doing simple training. Besides recovery training, he also needed to lose weight.
In the past ten days, Mrs. Bündchen had been making him nourishing soups and dishes daily. With less exercise, his weight had shot up.
"How much?" Richard asked, standing on the scale at the gym.
"180 pounds. You need to lose a bit more," Alvin said.
"Alright!"
The upper limit for light heavyweight boxers is 176 pounds. Being overweight would disqualify him from the match.
Richard resumed training: lifting weights, resistance stretches, and punching exercises. Losing weight is not a problem for a boxer.
"Hey, Richard, back to training already?" Paul said, walking into the gym with a hot dog.
"Morning!" Richard responded, continuing his resistance stretches.
Paul saw the weight vest Richard was wearing and grinned. This guy was becoming a beast, lifting 100 pounds with ease. Why wasn't he improving despite training every day? Not fair!
He took a big bite of his hot dog, suddenly finding it tasteless.
"Richard, don't push yourself too hard. If your injury isn't fully healed, you should rest more. For us athletes, our bodies are our foundation. Missing a match or two doesn't matter. If you ruin your body, you'll have to retire from boxing."
"I'm fine," Richard replied.
"How could you be? Mike said your right leg almost needed amputation and was in terrible condition. How could you be fine in less than a month? Don't push it. Take a year off and join the WBA championship next year with me. Isn't that better?"
Richard ignored him.
"Richard, you really should reconsider. You weren't as good as Roy Jones Jr. before, and now with an injury, you won't beat him. Use the injury as an excuse and withdraw from this match. It's a more respectable way to exit. What do you think?"
Paul leaned in with a toothy grin.
"Shut up, or I'll beat you up!"
"Hmph, do you think I'm scared of you?"
Paul pouted and quietly stepped back a few steps.
"Richard, I thought of a new nickname for you: the Crippled King. How about that? Ha ha ha~"
Paul laughed heartily.
Bang!
Richard dropped from the pull-up bar. "Paul, we haven't sparred in a while. Want to practice?"
"No need, no need. I really don't want to bully you," Paul waved his hand, stepping back a few steps and lying down on the bench press.
Richard shook his head, stretched his arms, and continued training.
But it wasn't long before another talkative person showed up. Norman Holiday walked into the gym, staring at Richard for a long time.
"Richard, are you sure you want to compete? Are you sure you can win? Give me an honest answer.
All the major bookmakers have set odds. If you win, it's 5 to 1; if Roy Jones Jr. wins, it's around 1.5 to 1. Your odds are huge. If you win, I'll bet everything on you."
Norman rambled.
"Yes!" Richard replied with one word and didn't bother to say more.
"Really? You can win despite such a serious injury? Richard, we're friends. You can't lie to me."
Norman said.
"I said I can. If you don't believe me, that's your choice."
Before every match, someone would always ask this question. Now he was tired of answering.
"Ha ha, Norman, look at him. If he were confident, he'd be boasting about how he would definitely win. Now he doesn't have confidence and doesn't dare say a word," Paul laughed.
"What do you think, Paul? Can Richard win?" Norman asked.
"No way. If Richard wins, I'll stand on my head. He can't win."
Paul said confidently.
Norman frowned and decided to see for himself. He stayed in the gym all day, watching Richard train. Finally, he made a decision and still bet on Richard.
"Richard, good luck. If you win, I'll give you a car. How about a Rolls-Royce?"
Norman laughed.
"That's a promise."
Richard smirked and continued training.
After another ten days of training, Richard's injury had mostly healed, and the match was about to start.
This match was also held at Madison Square Garden in New York.
Match venues are usually chosen where there are many boxing fans to increase ticket sales or in places with casinos to attract gamblers, such as New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Atlantic City.
Richard is a New Yorker, and there are many boxing fans in the area. Roy Jones is a boxing superstar with plenty of local fans, making New York a perfect choice for the match.
The match was scheduled for November 6th, and with six months of buildup, fans were highly anticipating it. This led to more than 23,000 tickets being sold out within three days. Front-row tickets were scalped for over $20,000 each, showing the intense excitement.
On the night of the match, the atmosphere was even more electric. Over 20,000 people packed into the arena, and due to the crowd, many chose to stand and watch.
Among the crowd, Richard recognized many familiar faces, including neighbors from the Bronx and many new friends.
"Hey, Sally, you made it!"
"Go, you jerk!"
Ms. Theron gave him a hug. "Where's your girlfriend?"
"She doesn't want to watch me get beaten up!" Richard replied helplessly.
"Neither do I. What can I do?" Ms. Theron said, winking with a smile.
"Don't worry, you won't have to see it if you don't want to!" Richard laughed, moving on to the next person. "Hey, Reese, Fred!"
"Haha, go, Richard!" Fred, Reese's father, bumped fists with him.
"No problem. Six minutes from now, let's have a drink together!" Richard invited.
"Six minutes?" Fred looked confused.
"Haha, see you in a bit!" Richard laughed and continued greeting people, including Sarah Michelle Gellar, Jude Law, producer Neal Moritz, Daniel Day-Lewis, producer Copson, director Davis, and director Woody Allen.
"Hey, Richard, guess who this is?" Norman shouted, pointing to a few women wearing hats. They were socialites from the party, like Ivanka, Paris, and Amanda.
"Richard, make sure you seize the chance to marry into wealth," Norman laughed.
Richard gave him the finger and greeted a few more people.
Back in the locker room, Richard prepared for over ten minutes.
When it was time for the boxers to enter, he draped a blanket over himself and walked out of the tunnel low-key. In the past, he was flashy to gain fame and build a fanbase. Now, at the finals, there was no need for any gimmicks.
Opposite him, Roy Jones Jr. also appeared, dressed in a red robe, walking toward him.
"Hey, Roy, I've finally met you. I've been working for a year for this," Richard greeted, extending his fist.
"Hmph, Richard, no matter what tricks you use, I will defeat you within three rounds," Roy Jones said, glancing at Richard's right leg.
"Of course, I'll try to end the match in one round."
"One round?" Roy Jones was stunned for a moment, then laughed and bumped Richard's chest. "You think you can beat me in one round?"
"Yes, be prepared for an embarrassing defeat," Richard replied politely.
"Haha, are you trying to anger me? Good job, Richard, you've succeeded. I'll show you the gap between us soon."
Roy Jones snorted, bumped Richard's shoulder, and strode toward the ring.
Richard chuckled softly and followed him onto the ring.
"Hey, Richard, go for it, for the $2 million prize!" Paul shouted.
"OK!"
(End of chapter)
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