Evan had been sitting on a small chair in the corner of the room watching them prep him for the fight. Although he didn't have a clue as to what they were doing or what was happening, he smiled and pretended he'd been watching men get ready to fight all his life.
The moment they were alone Carson hopped off the metal table and said, "Can I give you a hug for good luck?"
"Is it safe?"
"Most of the guys know I'm gay," Carson said. "And I don't give a damn anyway at this point in my life."
Evan stood up and crossed to where he was standing. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Then he put his arms around Carson's shoulders, kissed him on the lips, and said, "This is more exciting than I thought it would be. I'm glad I came." Carson had put his arms around Evan and he could feel the red boxing gloves pressed against his back.
"I'm glad you came," Carson said. "I reserved a ringside seat for you."
Evan almost laughed. He never would have guessed anyone would have reserved a ringside seat for him in a place like this. But he knew they couldn't remain this way for a long time, so he stepped back and said, "I've always been curious about one thing."
"What's that?"
"What do you guys wear under your shorts?"
Carson sent him a seductive smile. "Why don't you see for yourself?" He moved his hips forward and said, "Take a look."
Evan hesitated for a second, then reached out and pulled the waistband on Carson's boxing shorts. When he glanced down into Carson's shorts, he saw something that looked like a black jock strap, but it was thicker and padded. "I've never seen one of those before." He reached into his shorts and grabbed it to see if it felt as soft as it looked.
"It's a groin protector," Carson said.
Evan gently released Carson's waistband and patted his crotch. "I'm glad you're wearing it, because I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to such a nice groin."
After that, Carson asked his trainer to take Evan out to his seat where he could wait for the match to begin. The room had filled up by then and he found himself in a crowd of people murmuring their expectations. Some were cheering for "The Dog," which was Carson. Others were cheering for someone they referred to as "Ice Man." Though Evan had no idea what any of them were talking about, he picked up a few things that were helpful. He learned the man they called the referee seemed to be the judge and he decided what worked and what didn't while The Dog and Ice Man were fighting. And they fought in rounds, which he figured were intervals between fighting sessions. In his mind, with his limited knowledge of boxing, it all seemed so uncomplicated he sat back, crossed his legs, and waited for the fight to begin. He wished he'd thought ahead to bring a snack. He hadn't eaten anything all day.
But when the match started and he saw how hard Carson had to fight to compete against the guy they called Ice Man, he started shouting and screaming along with everyone else. This Ice guy was huge and mean-looking, with a big round bald head, massive feet stuffed into blue ankle high athletic shoes, and a long hook nose. His eyebrows pointed down in a natural way that made Evan wonder if they ever went up, and his small beady eyes were set closely together. Every time he threw a punch at Carson, Evan's heart stopped beating and he felt a pull between his legs.
By the twelfth round, Carson's lip was bleeding, his body drenched in sweat, and he wasn't hopping around with the same energy with which he'd started the match. He was swaggering now, as if forcing himself to remain on his feet. In the same respect, Carson had thrown a few good punches of his own and the big ugly Ice Man wasn't bouncing around as much anymore either. At that point, Evan just wanted it to be over. He didn't care who won. He felt like running up to the ring, jumping over the ropes, and kicking the Ice Man in the nuts.
He almost got into a fistfight himself during the last round. Carson made a move and the referee made each fighter go back to his corner for a moment. Evan had no idea what had happened or why the referee had done this. But he overheard the woman next to him turn to the man next to her say, "That fucking Dog is a fucking waste. Ice Man's gonna kill him." She dropped her g's. She was a big one, too, with bleached frizzy mullet and a hot pink sweatsuit. She also looked as if she'd seen the inside of one too many tanning beds.
Evan gave her a good shove with his elbow that almost knocked her off her army boots.
She grabbed him by the collar and said, "What the fuck?"
He pushed her back and said, "It was an accident. Calm down, asshole."
"Who you callin' asshole, asshole?" she shouted.