Granite Grit (Fighting's in the Blood #1) by Lee Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

stress. Tuesday and Thursday, I kept attending boxing.
      My mind healthier, but body older now, weaker and stiff. Not able to afford the protein shakes and training supplements all the serious gym-goers were taking, I had to take the pain for a few more weeks before the muscle ache would fade.
      What I wasn’t enjoying was the constant search for a job. Truth being, I was beginning to settle into a life that I couldn't see a way out of. To be honest, I wasn’t job-hunting as hard as I could have, the boxing distracted me.
      The welfare payments transferred in my account every week. Sitting in the Jobcentre, explaining to the grey-faced, grey clothed dominatrix sitting opposite me, that I’m doing everything by the rules to find work, was like talking to a brick wall.
      Just like a fight, I had to duck and dive my way towards getting the pittance of a hand-out they deemed ‘enough’. I had to keep looking forward in the hope something would turn up.
     
      Boxing had been going well and I could still fight, probably as good as in my teenage years. I was even surer of that when I took apart another boxer from the club, Toby. A real live-wire. Muscular, a good size for his weight and game as hell. A broad-shouldered 84kg, not a slice of fat to be seen. Five foot eight and a real stylish boxer as well.
      Wasn't local though, had a southern Scottish lingo. Having a really friendly kind of face and a good manner about him, he didn't seem a bully like Roy, who hadn’t been seen since I put him on his arse. He must have been too embarrassed to show face after getting sparked out.
      It was easy to tell Toby was an experienced fighter. The way he glided, the speed of his punches and the different variations of combos he had at his disposal. No ego, just a workmanlike attitude.
      We had our first spar a couple weeks after I exchanged blows with Roy. It started off quite relaxed but there he was, Mike in his corner egging him on. A few rounds passed when he thought he could take advantage. Being twenty odd kilos heavier than him, I was taking it easy. In the fourth round he started hissing like a snake as his punches started ploughing in. Following Mike's instruction from outside the ropes, he stepped up a gear. Really trying to trouble me.
      Once his athletic body stood inside my space, he would hit and move round my slow frame, pull my guard down, land a combo then disappear out my sight. His brain full of boxing tricks.
      Half way through the round, losing patience with the drip-drip effect his boxing was having on me, I dropped him with a hammering left-hook to the body. He sunk a deep breath as his legs couldn’t hold his weight. That was a warning to him, but he didn't take it. Lifting himself back up to his feet, he returned to the same tactic, hissing aggressively as he threw random leather in my face. He was too game for his own good.
      He got on my inside, opening up on my body, lightning quickly, he was hard to stop. My patience wearing thin, the kettle began to boil, I took it upon myself to drop him again, this time with a right uppercut in-between the narrow space showing in his guard.
      Taking another knee, I hoped for his sake he stayed there.
      No, the game son of a bitch got up again, gave Mike a glance in the corner, who nodded while he blinked and casually said “Carry on, boy.” I let him finish the round, allowing myself some easy time to regain full lungs. Hoping for his sake there wouldn’t be another one.
      There was, one more. He went easy at the start of the round, must have learned his lesson. Keeping him at bay with my stiff jab for the time being, while Mike barked at him to close the gap and get back into my chest.
      Toby went into overdrive. The cunt had some tank on him. Flat out almost every round, he was still fresh as a daisy.
      It was at this point that I realised everybody in this gym must be on some kind of juice: steroids.
    I was sick of the sight of this