Chapter 12: You're Quite the Little Troublemaker (Please Bookmark and Support)
"Richard, is your injury healed?"
In the bar, by the counter, the lighting was a bit dim. Andy, the big shot, was swirling his glass. Behind him were four men in black suits, quite the entourage.
"It'll probably take another month or two."
"Wishing you a speedy recovery." Andy smiled, raising his glass.
"Thank you!" Richard squinted his eyes slightly. "Andy, have you finished your business?"
"Of course, the Vietnamese gang and the Mexicans are nothing. They are no match for me."
"Oh?"
"Because I'm American." Andy smiled faintly.
Richard thought for a moment and understood. Compared to the local gangs, the Vietnamese and Mexican gangs were immigrant groups, making them uncertain elements. Local police needed to cooperate with gangs to maintain neighborhood stability, and Andy was more suitable than outsiders. With police support, it wouldn't be hard for Andy to keep his territory.
"Want to work for me? No killing or dealing drugs, just legitimate business," Andy suggested.
"I can't do that. I just want to be an ordinary citizen."
"An ordinary citizen?" Andy sneered, pointing his cigarette at Richard. "You think I don't know what kind of person you are? Ambitious, tough, competitive. No matter how strong your opponent is, if they provoke you, it's a fight to the end. Someone like you willing to be an ordinary person?"
Richard swirled his glass. "If I could be an ordinary person, wouldn't you want that too?"
Andy slowly exhaled smoke. "Ordinary or not, everyone needs money. Like the woman with you today. She's a model, right? Women like that are luxury items. With your current financial situation, how can you date her?"
Richard had taken Gisele around the Bronx today. It wasn't surprising Andy knew, given his informants in every street.
"You're right, money is important. But there are many ways to make money. I prefer a safer approach," Richard said calmly.
Andy shook his head. "Fortune favors the bold. You won't make big money like this."
"Luckily, I'm not very ambitious." Richard smiled.
Andy waved his hand. "Enough about that. I've organized another fight. I've invited former WBC light heavyweight champion Montell Griffin. If you agree to fight, the appearance fee is twenty thousand dollars, and we'll call the last incident even."
In professional boxing, the top champions made the most money, with appearance fees and bonuses reaching millions. Ordinary champions made at most a few thousand or tens of thousands. Twenty thousand dollars was the pay of a continental champion.
"Why me? Sinkel is also very good."
"He's not as good as you. He's just a boxer, but you're a star. I have high hopes for you. I want to bet big."
"Is it a real fight or a fake one?"
Andy twitched his mouth. "You think I'd dare ask you to throw a fight again?"
"I need time to consider."
"Think it over and come find me anytime." Andy patted his shoulder and left the bar with his men.
Richard frowned.
"Richard, what did Andy want?" Anthony ran over and asked.
"A fight!" Richard explained the situation.
"Montell Griffin? That guy was a champion with a golden belt. He's really strong. Are you going to accept?" Anthony frowned.
"Can I refuse?" Though Richard had saved Andy before, if it hadn't been for him stirring up trouble, no one would have tried to assassinate Andy. Plus, he had scammed Andy out of some money.
Andy said he would call it even if he fought. If he didn't, it was a threat. Richard wasn't afraid of threats. He was a loner, and at worst, he would go on another killing spree and then drift away. But considering his boxing skills had reached a 'mastery level' and he needed someone to hone his skills, former champion Montell Griffin seemed like a good opponent.
He decided to take the fight.
---
The next day, Richard walked into a casino in the southern district. He was there to find someone.
The casino was bustling, full of people, the noise deafening. People were playing cards, dice, roulette, all sorts of games.
At a corner card table, a few people were playing Blackjack. You get two cards, one face-up and one face-down. You can draw cards if you don't hit 21. Face cards count as 10, and the person closest to 21 wins. If you go over, you lose.
Among these people, an old black man stood out. This old guy had white hair and a beard, a lean build, and looked like he was in his seventies or eighties, but was actually only sixty-four.
This old man was Alvin Taffer, the former WBA heavyweight champion, and the person Richard was looking for.
At the peak of his career, Alvin faced off against the legendary Ali and was KO'd in the first round, losing his golden belt and exiting the stage in a pitiful state.
After leaving the boxing world, Alvin fell into a gambling addiction, losing everything, even his trophies. In the end, unable to survive, he partnered with someone to open a boxing gym.
Most of Richard's boxing skills were learned from the old man. Initially, the old man saw his good physical condition and fighting spirit, treating him as a successor, hoping he would grow up to compete professionally and win the championship belt, reclaiming lost glory.
But Richard had other plans. At eighteen, he went to the underground boxing scene.
The old man nearly fainted from anger and had ignored him ever since.
"Alvin!" Richard went over and patted the old man's shoulder.
The old man turned and looked at him. "Get lost, don't bother me while I'm playing."
Richard pulled a wry smile. "Alvin, I'm planning to fight former light heavyweight champion Montell."
"What's that got to do with me?"
The old man picked up a card, slowly revealing a King. He already had a 5 and a 10 on the table, totaling 25 points. He lost.
Alvin threw down the cards, glaring at Richard. This was your fault.
"Heh, if I win, I'll go pro."
"I don't believe you. You're a little troublemaker, learned all my moves with sweet talk, and now you're back to trick me. Get lost, I always lose when you're around."
"Alvin, I'm serious. Before, I didn't go pro because I didn't have enough confidence to win the golden belt. Without that confidence, what's the point? Now I have it. This time, the opponent is a professional champion. If I beat him, I'll go for the light heavyweight title."
Richard spoke seriously.
Alvin furrowed his white eyebrows, hesitating.
"Alvin, I met a girl. She's an excellent model and will definitely become a supermodel, making a lot of money in the future. To be with her, I have to be even better. Acting or other jobs might succeed, but it takes time. Going pro in boxing and fighting for the championship is the fastest way to succeed."
"You're boxing for a woman?" Alvin frowned.
"Not entirely. I need money, a lot of money."
".I still don't believe you. You're too sneaky. Tricked me before, now you want to profit off me again."
"Then, sorry to bother you." Richard sighed, turning to leave.
"Hold on!" Alvin scratched his head and took out some slips. "Got any money? Pay off these debts for me, and I'll continue as your coach."
"Alright!" Richard smiled.
In boxing, a coach's role is crucial, sometimes deciding the outcome of a match. Having an experienced coach in the team is very beneficial. But as he looked at the six debt slips totaling $11,560, he regretted it instantly. He had just bought a car, and his company needed renovation, leaving him with little money.
"Alvin, why don't you continue playing?" Richard tried to return the slips.
"No way, you agreed. Can't go back on your word." Alvin grabbed his shoulder and shouted, "Hey everyone, my debts are now Richard's. Go to him for your money."
"Richard, is that true?" some people turned and asked.
"."
"Speak up!"
Alvin urged.
"It's true." Richard said reluctantly.
"Great, we trust Richard."
"Richard, when are you fighting? I want to bet on you."
"Yes, Richard, hurry up. The matches feel empty without you."
The crowd clamored.
"Don't worry, Richard will fight soon." Alvin shouted, dragging him away. "Let's train. Without my guidance, you look terrible in the ring. You're a boxer, not an actor, stop acting out scenes. Pah, what nonsense."
"."
Richard regretted finding him, truly.