"There," he said. "Happy?"
Raymond shook his head.
"Power isn't the same as control."
"Tell that to the guys I've knocked out."
"Your next opponent isn't one of the guys you've already beaten."
Tyler rolled his eyes and walked toward the water station.
Tyler noticed him.
"Hey, everyone!" he shouted.
"I've got a question."
Raymond immediately looked irritated.
"If it's about training, ask it after the round."
"It's not about training. It's about life."
Tyler picked up a bottle of water and took a long drink.
"Look at Martin over there. Sixty-eight years old, right?"
Martin did not respond.
Tyler turned to the others.
"Sixty-eight years on this planet. All that time, and what has he accomplished? He cleans floors. He empties trash cans. He spends his life making sure other people can do something important."
A young fighter named Daniel Price lowered his jump rope.
"Come on, man," Daniel muttered.
Tyler ignored him.
"I'm serious. Some people spend their whole lives working for somebody else's success. They never take a risk. Never fight for anything. Never become anybody."
Raymond walked toward the water station.
"Enough, Tyler."
But Tyler was enjoying the attention now.
He crossed the floor and stopped in front of Martin, who had just placed a bundle of used wraps into a bin.
"Tell me something, Martin. Have you ever thrown a punch?"
Martin secured the bin's lid.
"Yes."
Tyler laughed.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Where? At a spider?"
A few people laughed before catching Raymond's expression.
Martin pushed the bin against the wall.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because you spend every day around fighters. I thought maybe you wanted to see what a real one looks like."
Martin studied Tyler's face.
"I see plenty of fighters."
"No. You see people hitting bags. That's different."
Tyler lifted his hands and began moving around the old man in an exaggerated imitation of a boxing stance.
"Come on. Show me something. One punch. I'll even let you use both hands."
"Tyler," Raymond warned.
"I'm just having fun."
"You're humiliating a man who works here."
"He's an adult. He can speak for himself."
Martin met Tyler's gaze.
"I can. And I'm asking you to leave me alone."
Instead, it wounded Tyler's pride.
He had expected the old man to apologize, retreat, or perhaps laugh nervously. Being refused so calmly, in front of the people whose admiration he craved, made him feel as though the entire room had taken Martin's side.
Tyler stepped closer.
"What's the matter? Afraid I'll hurt you?"
Martin glanced at the gloves hanging from Tyler's shoulder.
"You are a professional boxer. I am a janitor. It would be a strange thing to prove."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you need."
Tyler turned toward the others.
"Did you hear that? He thinks he's too good to answer me."
Daniel stepped forward.
"Nobody thinks that. You're the one making this weird."
Tyler's eyes narrowed.
"Stay out of it."
Daniel hesitated. He was twenty, talented enough to compete at the regional level, but still too inexperienced to risk a confrontation with the gym's biggest star.
He looked toward Raymond.
"Tyler, put your gloves on and get back to work."
"Why? Because you're afraid I'll embarrass him?"
"Because you're acting like a child."
The words landed harder than Raymond intended.
Tyler's jaw tightened.
For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he turned back to Martin, whose expression had not changed.
"Fine," Tyler said. "Let's make it interesting."
"One punch. That's all I'm asking."
Martin's eyes moved to the phone.
"No."
"Listen first. I'll throw one clean punch. You avoid it, and I'll apologize. In front of everybody. I'll even tell the world you're the toughest janitor in Bellhaven."
"And if I don't avoid it?"
Tyler shrugged.
"Then we find out how tough you really are."
Raymond grabbed Tyler's wrist and pushed the phone down.
"Put that away."
Tyler pulled free.
"What are you worried about, Coach? He won't even have to hit me."
"You're a trained professional."
"Exactly. Which means I can control myself."
Raymond looked at Martin.
For a fleeting instant, Raymond thought he saw a change in him—not fear, not anger, but recognition.
As though Tyler had mentioned something Martin remembered from a very different life.
Martin picked up his bucket.
"I have work to do."
Tyler stepped in front of him again.
"One punch, Martin. Unless you're scared."
Martin stopped.
The old man looked at the young boxer for a long moment. Then he set the bucket down carefully, ensuring that its handle rested against the wall rather than the floor.
"Do you understand what you're asking?" Martin said.
Tyler grinned.
"I'm asking you to dodge a punch."
"No. You're asking me to help you make a spectacle of yourself."
Martin continued in the same quiet voice.
"You've spent so much time trying to prove that you're stronger than everyone around you that you've forgotten the difference between strength and cruelty."
Tyler's face reddened.