He cocked his head at the last possible instant and grinned as Alfred’s gloved fist shot harmlessly over his shoulder. And each time Alfred missed, Angel belted him in the stomach. There was no pain, only anger that drove his teeth deeper into the mouthpiece. The air exploded out of his nostrils and sweat ran into his eyes. He closed his eyes and swung wildly, and Angel, laughing, belted the side of his headguard. “Time,” called Henry. “You’re not workin’ your combinations,” said Bud, pulling out the mouthpiece. “You been throwin’ one punch at a time and that’s no good.” “But, I—” “Time,” called Henry, and Bud shoved the mouthpiece back in. Jab-jab-hook…jab-hook-right…jab…hook to the body…cross to the chin…body…head…jab…jab…jab… August, gasping for breath, melted into September. It was cooler in the park at dawn now. But it was hot in the gym, always hot in the gym, the leather headguard squeezing his temples, the metal protective cup pinching his thighs.
