Summary: MC (Frankie) decides to attend Seth’s boxing match and meets someone unexpected in the crowd.
Notes: Fair warning, I knew nothing about boxing when I started this and I’ve just been researching as I go, so if anyone out there is into boxing and notices an error, PLEASE tell me! I really want to be accurate 😊 Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!
Frankie stood across the street from Barker Gym in Bayonne, New Jersey and wondered what the hell she was thinking. She hadn’t planned on coming to Seth’s fight. Frankie never did things like this. And yet, here she was.
“God dammit,” Frankie muttered as she crossed the street and got in line behind a handful of people. She bounced anxiously on her toes, wondering if she should leave. She could still go without Seth every knowing she was ever there. But Frankie didn’t leave and before long, she was at the door.
“Twenty bucks,” the bored guy at the ticket table said. Frankie pulled out her wallet and handed over the bill. “Are you going to be drinking tonight?”
“Sure,” Frankie said, handing over her ID so he could check it. The ticket guy was about to hand it back before he stopped and pulled it back, squinting at the ID.
“Last name Parker? Any chance you go by Frankie?” the guy asked.
“Yes?” Frankie said slowly, the word coming out more like a question than an answer.
“You’re on my list,” he said, handing back her twenty.
“Oh, I don’t–” Frankie started to protest, but the guy gestured for her to hold out her wrist. She did so and he stamped it.
“Enjoy the fight,” he said.
“Thanks.” Frankie headed inside the door. The lights were lowered, save for the ones glowing brightly over the boxing ring towards the back. Hard rock blared out of the speakers so loudly that Frankie felt like she’d been swallowed into the belly of a very strange beast.
Clock strikes twelve on a Saturday night
All the creeps are sleepin’ all the cools in sight
All the kings and queens, they’re out tonight
Lookin’ for some action ‘til I feel all right
To the right, she saw a somewhat sad looking concessions table, and she headed over. She bought a large plastic cup of domestic beer with too much foam and wandered towards the folding chairs set up around the ring. Frankie didn’t expect there was anything as high brow as assigned seating, so she headed over and found an empty seat towards the middle. She sipped her beer and glanced around. A lot of the people seemed to know each other and were talking animatedly to one another.
“First time at a fight?”
Frankie looked towards the voice on her right and saw a good looking man with tanned, cinnamon skin had just sat beside her. He wore slacks and an oxford shirt, unbuttoned one more button than she was used to seeing. Then again, they were in Jersey.
“How can you tell?” she asked.
He smiled. “You look a little lost, that’s all,” he said.
“I have a … I know one of the guys fighting tonight,” she said, turning back to look towards the ring.
“Do you know much about boxing?” the man asked.
Frankie wasn’t really interested in chatting, but she figured she didn’t have much else to do until the match started. “Not really,” she said.
“If you want, I could fill you in a little,” the guy said.
“Sure,” Frankie said, trying not to sigh audibly.
“I’m Matt, by the way,” the man said, extending his hand to hers.
“Frankie,” she said, shaking it. His skin was soft and expensive, making Frankie very aware of her own hands which were dry and cracked from washing them constantly for work, her nails bitten down to the quick.
“Frankie?” Matt said. “You’re a long way from Hollywood.”
This time, Frankie, didn’t hold back her sigh. Matt laughed.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. I’m guessing you’ve heard that one before.”
“Oh, no, that one was completely original,” Frankie said sarcastically. “Next, I bet you’re going to tell me to say ‘relax.’”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Matt said. Frankie wanted to find him completely obnoxious, but there was a sweetness that made her feel like she’d be kicking a puppy. She glanced around and noticed there was a fair number of people glancing their way.
“You seem popular,” Frankie said, gesturing to the onlookers. Matt looked around and all of the staring people quickly looked away. He shrugged.
“I’ve been to a lot of fights,” he said. “Anyway, like I said, I could tell you a little about what you’re about to watch.”
“Dudes hitting each other?”
“Yes, but it’s very strategic hitting,” Matt said. “The best boxers make it look like a dance.”
I was right on with my Sharks and Jets thing, Frankie thought.
“So, there are three fights tonight,” Matt said. “Fights are typically broken up by weight class. Making weight is a big deal; some of these guys go nuts trying to hit a certain number to make sure they’re in a certain class.”
“Sounds like every woman ever during bikini season,” Frankie said.
Matt laughed. “That’s actually not far off. Tonight, there’s a featherweight fight, a middleweight fight, and a heavyweight fight. Featherweights can’t go above 126 lbs, middleweights max out at 160 lbs, and heavyweights are anything over 200 lbs.”
“Featherweight sounds like kind of a mean name to call a bunch of guys,” Frankie said.
“Flyweight sounds a lot worse,” Matt said. “Because these are amateur fights, they won’t go the full twelve rounds you see in professional fights. I think tonight they’re only planning on seven per fight.”
“Are girls in bikinis going to come out holding big number cards for those of us who don’t remember how to count?” Frankie asked.
Matt chuckled again. “Yeah, ring girls are still a thing. You don’t always see them at amateur matches depending on the venue, but this place definitely has one.”
Frankie rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might actually fall out of her head. She tried to remember why she was there and instead just took another sip of her beer.
“There are three judges who are going to sit over there,” Matt said, pointing to an elevated table set up along one wall. “They’re going to judge the fight and watch for things like intentional fouls so they can deduct points. Then, at the end of seven rounds, the guy with the most points wins.”
“What if someone gets knocked out?” Frankie asked.
“If someone gets hit and goes down on the mat and can’t get up by the end of a ten second count because they’re unconscious or in too much pain or something, it’s a knockout and the guy left standing wins. There’s also something called a TKO, a technical knockout, which means a guy isn’t down, but the doctor determines mid-round that he can’t safely continue.”
“I see,” Frankie said as she finished her beer. “Who knew letting someone beat the shit out of you had so many rules?”
“And those are just the basics,” Matt said. He gestured to her empty cup. “Want another round?”
“Yeah, but I’ll get it,” she said, standing up. Matt stood up, too.
“No, really, I’d like to,” he said.
She hesitated. “You seem like a nice guy and all, but I’m a bartender and one of the cardinal rules is don’t accept open containers from someone you don’t know. And, really, this place is sketchy enough. I’m surprised they didn’t misspell ‘beer’ on the sign.”
Matt laughed and held up his hands. “Fair enough. But can I at least give you cash for the round?”
“Fine,” Frankie said. Matt pulled out his wallet and gave her some cash before sitting back down to save their seats. Frankie made her way back over to the concessions stand where a line had started to form. She waited and when it was her turn, ordered two beers. She paid for them herself and stuffed Matt’s money into the tip jar before heading back to their seats.
“So, you’re a bartender?” Matt asked as the seats around them started to fill in.
“Yup,” Frankie said as she handed him his cup and took a sip of hers.
“Here in Bayonne?” he asked.
“Oh, god no,” she said. “I’m over in Brooklyn, I work in a bar called The Basement.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of it,” Matt said.
“It’s a dive bar,” she said. “Dive bars don’t really look like your thing,” she added, gesturing to his clothes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt asked, amused.
“Come on,” Frankie said. “If you tell me you’ve never used moisturizer, I will literally eat my shoe right now.”
“… okay, fine, I moisturize,” Matt said with a laugh. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, but it makes me think you don’t often hang out in dive bars,” she said.
“Alright, fine, I don’t,” Matt admitted, smiling. Frankie wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a blush creep across his cheeks. “But maybe I–”
“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!” a voice boomed across the speakers. “ARE YOU READY FOR A FIGHT NIGHT?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Frankie muttered as the crowd around her cheered. Matt laughed at the expression on her face.
“Come on, boxing’s fun!” he said, leaning over to her ear so she could hear him over the crowd. Frankie said nothing, but took another sip of her beer.
The fighters in the lightweight division were announced and they came out of the back, the crowd cheering loudly as they went to their respective corners.
Welcome to the jungle we’ve got fun and games
We got everything you want honey, we know the names
We are the people that can find whatever you may need
If you got the money, honey we got your disease
“Really? Guns N’ Roses?” Frankie asked.
“Oh yeah,” Matt said. “Boxing is really into classic rock.”
The fight began and Frankie watched as the two sinewy players proceeded to punch the crap out of each other. Round after round, they fought, until finally the perky blonde in a bikini held up a card with a large number seven on it and Matt leaned over to Frankie.
“If they make it all the way through this round without getting knocked out, that means they’re going to the distance,” he explained.
“Like the Beck song?”
Matt laughed. “Something like that. ‘The distance’ refers to the full number of rounds in a match and if the fighters get all the way through, it’s called ‘going the distance.’”
Frankie nodded. She was surprised that she found herself somewhat interested in the sport considering how bored she’d expected to be. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something primal about watching two men beat the shit out of each other that was really engaging. Despite her snarky personality, Frankie considered herself to be more of a pacifist than a fighter. However, when the fight ended and one of the lightweights was announced as the victor, she was a little disappointed no one had started bleeding yet.
Just before the middleweight boxers came out, a familiar song burst forth from the speakers.
When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide
Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride
Till I get to the bottom and I see you again
“That’s weird,” Matt commented, looking a little confused. “You don’t hear a lot of Beatles songs at boxing matches.” Frankie suppressed a smile as she took another drink of her beer.
Do, don’t you want me to love you
I’m coming down fast but I’m miles above you
Tell me, tell me, tell me, come on tell me the answer
Well, you may be a lover but you ain’t no dancer
Seth walked out and Frankie hated to admit it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She’d obviously known he was good looking when he came into her bar the other night, but seeing him in shorts and gloves and nothing else was a different experience entirely. Every cut of his muscles glinted under the light as he made his way towards the ring. He briefly squinted his eyes as he scanned the crowd, but Frankie wasn’t sure he could see much of anything up there other due to the bright lights.
“I’ve seen that guy fight a couple of times before,” Matt said, pointing to Seth.
“Yeah?” Frankie asked with forced casualness. “Is he any good?”
Matt nodded. “He could be really good. I think he needs a better coach, but he has a lot of raw talent.”
Frankie kept her eyes trained on the ring, her gaze locked on Seth as the bikini girl strutted around holding a large card with a number one on it.
“Did you forget how to count yet?” Matt asked, gesturing to the ring girl.
“No, but it’s still early and I’m only on my second beer,” she said. She could see Matt grin out of her peripheral vision, but she couldn’t look away from Seth.
The fight began and Frankie understood what Matt meant about boxing being like dancing. There was music in the way Seth moved in the ring. He was like jazz, improvising and adapting as he bobbed and wove around the ring. The hits he took didn’t seem to phase him much as he delivered blow after blow, causing his opponent to stumble back before lunging back at Seth who seemed to remain cool and collected.
“That guy is getting really agitated,” Matt said, pointing to Seth’s opponent. “I have a feeling he’s going to get desperate.”
Matt’s prediction came true in the fifth round when Seth’s opponent swung out his glove and delivered a deliberate kidney punch. Seth stumbled and clutched his side as the referee ordered Seth’s opponent back to his corner.
“Ouch,” Matt said. “Kidney punches are not pleasant.”
“Is he allowed to do that?” Frankie asked.
“No, he’s not,” Matt said as the referee made the announcement for the judges to deduct two points from Seth’s opponent.
“God, that looks really painful,” Frankie said, wincing as she watched Seth.
“It is,” Matt said. “If you get hit hard enough, you can piss blood.”
Frankie watched nervously as Seth straightened up, shaking his head a little as if to shake away the pain. He briefly conferred with his coach before he straightened up, ready to continue.
“He’s going back in,” Matt said, a note of approval in his voice. “He’s going to have to be careful though. That hit looked intentional and if his opponent is going to play dirty, he could be in trouble.”
“Can’t the other guy just get disqualified?” Frankie asked.
“Yes, but I think he’s hoping to damage him just enough to pull off a KO,” Matt said with a frown.
“That’s bullshit,” Frankie said.
“I don’t disagree.”
Seth and his opponent squared off again and the referee signaled for them to continue. Seth’s movements weren’t quite as fluid as before and Frankie knew he had to be in pain. Adrenaline surged through her as she watched the fight, watched the two men circle and swing at each other until the bell clanged, signaling the end of the round. Each man plodded back to his respective corner as the ring girl paraded the big number six card around the ring.
“Do you think he can hang in there for two more rounds?” Frankie asked.
“Depends,” Matt said with a shrug. “That was a dirty hit, but, having seen him fight before, I think he can pull through.”
Round six started and Frankie felt like she was fraying at the ends as she watched Seth meet his opponent in the middle of the ring. Seth seemed to gain back some of his finesse from earlier, sliding back into his fluidity as he moved with his opponent.
Then it happened. Seth’s opponent swung left and Seth blocked, but before Seth could react his opponent smashed into Seth’s head with his right hand, blood bursting forth from Seth’s eye.
“Oh my god!” Frankie exclaimed. It took her a second to realize she was gripping Matt’s arm, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind as he was leaning forward in his own seat.
“Shit,” Matt muttered. The referee sent each man back to his corner and the doctor started to examine Seth’s face. Frankie watched anxiously as the doctor shook his head. She could nearly hear Seth arguing from where she sat and the referee came over to talk to the doctor. Seth tried to stand up but he immediately fell back on the stool, the doctor catching him to help him regain his balance. The referee conferred with the doctor for a moment before he headed back to the center of the ring and announced the TKO.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Frankie exclaimed as the crowd around her booed its disapproval.
“That cut on his eye has to be pretty bad,” Matt said, shaking his head. “And if he’s having trouble standing, it’s not safe for him to continue. The other guy wins.”
Frankie sank back into her seat, furious. Matt sank back into his own chair and sighed as the crowd continued to boo as the referee held up Seth’s opponent’s hand as the winner.
“This is why I said that guy needs a better coach,” Matt said as Seth was helped back into the locker room. “A good coach would help him to better anticipate shots like that, and–”
“Would you excuse me for a minute?” Frankie said suddenly. The excitement of the fight still pulsed through her body and she felt like she couldn’t sit still for another minute.
“Sure.”
Frankie stood up and made her way out of the row of chair before making a beeline for the door through which she’d seen Seth disappear. She pushed her way through the door and headed down a long hallway, following the sound of Seth’s voice.
“I’m fine, I–” Seth was saying as she rounded the corner.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” she exclaimed.
“Ma’am, you can’t be back here,” Seth’s coach said, annoyed, as he stood up.
“No, it’s okay,” Seth said, grinning despite the blood tracked across his face. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”
“Yeah, well I … um …” Frankie was suddenly aware of what she’d done. “That looked really bad, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Seth said as the doctor applied a butterfly closure on his brow ridge. “It’s not the first time I’ve taken a hit to the face and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
“Not everyone can be Pretty Boy Rodriguez,” the doctor quipped. Seth laughed. “Okay, I want you to sit here and take it easy and drink water for a bit. Then make sure you check in with me before you go, okay?”
“You got it, doc,” Seth said as he accepted a bottle of water from the doctor. Then he looked over at Frankie and patted the bench beside him. Feeling awkward as the adrenaline drained from her body, Frankie walked over and sat beside him. Seth’s coach glared at her, but he said nothing before he left the locker room with the doctor.
“So,” Seth said. “You came.”
“It was my night off,” Frankie said, which wasn’t actually true. She’d coerced one of the other bartenders into trading her and, as a result, Frankie would be working a double on Friday.
“I wish you could’ve seen me on a better night,” Seth said. “I swear, I’m usually better than that.”
“Actually, I thought you were great,” Frankie said. “I mean, I don’t really know that much about boxing, but you moved really well.”
“Yeah? You like my moves?” Seth asked. Frankie felt her face flame.
“How’s your side?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.
“I’ll live,” Seth said, but, despite his words, a nasty bruise was already forming over his kidney.
“How’s your eye?”
“It looks worse than it is,” Seth said. “He split my eyebrow, which is better than my eyelid.” He laughed when Frankie shuddered. “But unfortunately, head wounds bleed like crazy and they make me really woozy.”
“How’re you feeling now?”
“At this exact moment, I feel a lot better,” Seth said, his eyes meeting hers as he smiled.
Frankie felt a blush rise in her cheeks again and she looked away, embarrassed.
“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” Seth asked. “Maybe go get a drink or something? Or is that a weird thing to ask a bartender?”
Frankie smiled. “It’s not weird, but should you really be drinking after taking a hit like that to the head?”
“Probably not,” Seth said with a shrug. “But I’d be down for a walk instead if you’re up for it.”
“Yeah, okay,” Frankie said.
“Cool,” Seth said, a grin spreading across his face. A thought occurred to Frankie and she was suddenly very glad Seth’s opponent hadn’t hit him in the mouth. “I just need a minute to change and then I can meet you out front if that’s okay?”
“Sure,” Frankie said. She stood, as did Seth, and she stood there awkwardly for a moment, not wanting to leave yet. “Okay, see you out there.”
“Five minutes,” Seth promised.
Frankie headed back out to the main area of the gym where the heavyweight fight was already well underway. She skirted around the edge of the chairs but Matt spotted her. He waved to catch her attention and she stopped, letting him catch up to her.
“Are you taking off?” he asked when he reached her.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said.
“Well … it was nice meeting you, Frankie Goes to Hollywood,” he said with a grin. Frankie raised an eyebrow at him and gave him her best glare that she usually reserved for idiots who ordered Bloody Marys after midnight.
“I’d say the same, but …” she trailed off. Matt laughed. “Seriously though, thanks for explaining everything to me.”
“My pleasure,” Matt said. “See you around, Frankie.”
“Bye, Matt.”
Frankie headed towards the front door and walked outside into the cool night air.
“Did you enjoy the fight?”
Frankie turned around to see the guy at the ticket table, now bored and on his phone.
“I did, thanks,” she said.
A few minutes later, Seth joined her outside, his hair wet from the shower.
“Ready?” he asked holding out his elbow to her.
“Ready,” she said, looping her arm through his.
“Why Brooklyn?” Seth asked. They stood on the Brooklyn bridge, surveying the New York City skyline.
“It’ll make me sound really lame if I tell you,” Frankie said.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Seth said. She glanced over at him to see if he was messing with her, but his eyes were earnest.
“Okay,” Frankie said with a sigh. “Well, I left Iowa to come to New York because I really wanted to be a tattoo artist.”
“Really?” Seth asked. “That’s really cool.”
“Hang on,” she said. “Really, I could’ve gotten an apprenticeship in Des Moines. But … I don’t know, I felt like I was missing out on everything by being there. So I came here to be closer to something interesting and I picked Brooklyn because …”
“Because …” Seth prompted.
Frankie looked away, staring out at the city. “Because of a Buckcherry song.”
“Wait a second,” Seth said, turning to fully face her. “Are you telling me that you picked where you wanted to live based on ‘Brooklyn’ by Buckcherry?”
“I told you I’d sound really lame!” Frankie protested. Seth laughed and stepped a little closer to her.
“You’re not lame,” Seth said. “Unconventional, maybe, but you’re definitely not lame.”
Frankie eyed him suspiciously. “I swear, if you weren’t so goddamn nice, I’d think you were making fun of me.”
“Are you working on a tattoo apprenticeship now?” Seth asked. Frankie shook her head.
“No, I’m not. I know I should be, but I work a lot and … I don’t know, art has just kind of fallen by the wayside.”
“Can I see some of your artwork sometime?” Seth asked.
“Sure, I guess,” Frankie said. She looked out at the skyline again and slowly became aware that Seth was staring at her. “What?” she asked, looking at him.
“Nothing,” he said, glancing away as he leaned on the railing.
“No, what is it?”
Seth hesitated before he looked back at her. “It’s just … I was just thinking about how beautiful you look right now.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Why are you even here with me right now? I’m not exactly a nice person.”
“I beg to differ,” Seth said. “You came to support a stranger at an amateur boxing match despite knowing absolutely nothing about the sport.”
“It was my night off!” Frankie protested.
“Was it really?”
Frankie hesitated, tempted to lie, but instead she admitted the truth. “No, it’s not. I traded shifts with one of the other girls.”
Seth grinned and bit his lip as he grinned out at the dark water beneath the bridge.
“Okay, I’m going to ask you something,” Seth said. “And I fully accept that you might punch me, but I have to ask it anyway.”
“Okay …” Frankie said slowly. Seth straightened up and turned to face her, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Can I kiss you?”
Frankie looked into those painfully blue eyes, the earnestness of his expression, and in that moment there was nothing more that she wanted. She nodded and he leaned in, gently pressing his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and gentle and while she wrapped her arms around him as he held her close, an errant song lyric ran through her mind.
All my little plans and schemes
Lost like some forgotten dreams
Seems that all I really was doing
Was waiting for you
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