Grace by A Knockout

                   “Grace by a Knockout”

by Alex Joyce

for Reedsy Prompt 4.

“Miami is Heaven on earth.” Johnny Kehoe concluded as he sipped on his vodka tonic. He was 2 drinks deep…taking it all in. His hands, face, and ribs still hurt from the fight. Also, his throat. His throat had a lump in it. This was strange because he didn’t remember that hit. He usually remembered every single one. He hoped a third drink would help him escape the pain so he could get properly acquainted with this world of palm trees, Lamborghinis and flamingos. Sitting at a table on the patio of a bustling hotel in South Beach, he sat and sipped his drink and felt relaxed. He thought about how different this place was to Chicago, the city where he lived or to Atlantic City where they had spent all week. “We're a long way from Western Avenue,” he said to Michael, his uncle and trainer.“ “Uncle Mickey” as he was called, was only 7 years older than Johnny.  Mickey boxed some in college but soon learned he was better at giving instruction than taking it. He studied philosophy with a minor in business. After taking Johnny on as a fighter and going through some wars in the ring together, they became close, best friends, almost like brothers. Boxing is brutal and brutally lonely in and out of the ring and Johnny trusted Uncle Mickey with his life. Johnny watched girls walk by the patio where he sat. “It’s so bright out, I can barely see.” He told Mickey. “You need some dark, the darkness helps us see Johnny.” “I’ll run in and buy you some sunglasses, take mine for now.” Mickey handed Johnny his Ray Bans and disappeared through a jungle of trees into a cavernous lobby entrance, headed for the gift shop. Johnny hoped sunglasses would help hide the cuts on his face. There were welts near his eyes that looked like bee stings. On the plane ride down from Atlantic City, a flight attendant asked him if he was having an allergic reaction to peanuts. This embarrassed him and he was embarrassed about being embarrassed so he hid behind a vodka tonic and a copy of Ring Magazine. The hazy day was turning breezy, the sky began to darken, the city began to ignite. As he watched a river of neon bikini tops and jean shorts pass him by, a woman in a wispy black dress caught his attention. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her. She walked closer to him, her eyes fixed on her phone. Was it a movie star? A singer? Where did he know her from, she looked so familiar. Black hair with green eyes he could see from a block away and in a dress that danced in the breeze like a flame. As she got closer it hit him like an overhand right... it was Maria Cruz. Maria…La Diabla.

When they were kids in Chicago, Maria Cruz was a bully, a girl bully. When she was in the 6^th grade she liked to pick on and beat up 5^th grade boys and take their candy. She knew karate and she used the martial art for evil, beating up boys she deemed “showoffs.” Then…a miracle. After a 3 year separation, her Irish mother and Puerto Rican father got back together, something unheard of in that neighborhood or any other. This cooled La Diablas jets, calmed the choppy waters in her mind and her reign of terror ended.  Maria “She Devil” Cruz became a well-behaved young lady save a rumored incident at The University of Miami, where she may have thrown a glass at a bartender. After college, she stayed in Miami, visiting Chicago a couple times a year. “What are the odds I would run into Maria?” he thought to himself amazed at the site of her. He quickly stood up and yelled for her. She looked confused but then saw him, looked surprised and smiled walking towards him. “Nice suit dipshit, she said as he kissed her on the cheek.” It was a white suit with a pink shirt. “You like it? I got it here at the shop in the hotel.” he said proudly. “I can tell.” She said flatly while looking at a menu. She had graduated from a physically abusive kid to a beautiful smart aleck adult. “Did you watch the fight?” He asked hoping for praise while knowing he might get something wicked in return.  She looked at him and rolled her eyes. “Yes, John the whole family back home and everyone here saw you win the fight.” Congratulations…you’re good at punching dudes.” Mickey emerged from the hotel, new sunglasses on pink skin. He had gone to the room to call home and fell into an accidental nap. He approached Johnny’s table and saw a strikingly beautiful woman he prayed wasn’t a prostitute. “Hello” he said cautiously. “Uncle Mickey, this is Maria, she’s from the neighborhood! What a coincidence right?” They shook hands, said nice to meet you and both sat down. Maria noticed he was holding a kindle. “What are you reading?” “It’s a biography of a guy who climbed Mt. Everest.” He told the two. “At that altitude in a snowstorm you can’t move, can’t see, can’t breathe.” “Sounds like Chicago right now,” said Johnny.   “What kind of work do you do Maria?”  asked Mickey. “A girlfriend and I opened a bowling alley bar.” Mickey pointed at her. “Now, I know who you are!” “Your Dad owns Universe Bowl right?” “Yep.” “So, you are sticking to the family business hmm?” “Well, sort of, my Dad insists on doing things his way, so I wanted to strike out on my own.” Instead of a galaxy theme ours is 1950s Rock and Roll. Murals of Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly, we’ve got malt milkshakes and the best burgers in town. It’s called Rock and Bowl. Johnny and Mike say “cool” in unison. They both began to stare at Maria for longer than they were aware. “So, you guys like karaoke?” she asked. They both shrugged. “If I’m June Carter who will be my Johnny Cash?” They didn’t understand the question, they didn’t really know what karaoke was. As they walked up the block they stop into shops where souvenirs, funny hats and T Shirts were sold, they laughed and bought some silly crap. Johnny was quickly becoming enchanted with Maria. He liked the way she moved, her attitude, everything about her. He hadn’t spent this much time with her since parties in high school. She was a grown up now and not as much as a brat as he thought he remembered. They stopped into an Irish bar for a quick one and Johnny thought he’d pull a fast one. While Mickey was at the bar buying pints of Guinness he asked her if she had a boyfriend. She told him she did not. Mickey arrived with pints before Johnny could inquire further into Maria’s love life. “If the Guinness is nice, I’m moving here.” Mickey said. “Muhammad Ali trained here for plenty of fights, what do you think Johnny? Base Kehoe fight camp in Miami?” Johnny looked around and sipped on his pint. It was delicious. “I talked to the bartender, she’s from Cork City, the owner is from the southside of Chicago.” Mickey said.  After two rounds of pints they finally headed to karaoke.

Maria had the Kehoe brothers arm and arm and led them into Cosmos Karaoke Bar which looked like a haunted seafood restaurant with a mirror ball spinning and smoke machine smoking. The place was packed. On stage was a drunk bellhop in uniform singing “My Way” by Frank Sinatra. They sat down at a booth when Maria jumped up to chat with people she knew at the bar. “Hey, I think I like her.” Mike blurted out. “What?” Johnny confused began to laugh. “You’re too old for her. She’s here with me.” This had never happened before, usually they had very different taste in women. “I’m not old you little shit, I’m only 5 years older than her.” “Bro you have a bald spot and a wife.” Johnny said with a laugh. Mike considered this a low blow. Technically he was still married but legally separated. It had been 6 months since his wife ran off with Paddy O’Hearn, The Used Car King of the northside. Mickey got angry and then calm, as he always did under pressure. “Ok, fucko…” he began, before a server that looked like Dog The Bounty Hunter put two shots in front of them. They look up at the bar to see Maria with people who looked part pirate, part lizard. They picked up the shots. “May the best man win, Johnny said.” They ordered drinks and drank them while watching drunk and sunburned tourists belt out tunes from everyone from The Bee Gees to Bon Jovi. Meanwhile…Maria had disappeared. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Johnny asked in a high pitched voice reserved for 10th grade mockery. “I don’t know. You don’t think she would sign us up to sing do you?” Johnny shuddered at the thought of it and dismissed that scenario entirely. Just then, the host asked Johnny and Mickey to come on up to sing “I’ve Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. To their credit, they did not hide or shy away. Maybe it was a street mentality or the boozey confidence but they walked slowly up the smoky stairs to the stage while yelling about who would be Sonny. “Where the fuck is Maria? She IS the fucking Devil!” Johnny yelled in a whisper. The song began and they read the teleprompter. They sang both parts together. They sounded horrible. Someone at the bar in a southern accent yelled, “Jesus, y’all!” The room cringed and collectively hoped conversation amongst themselves could drown out the awful sound. The Kehoes sang in different keys to what sounded like two different songs at times. When a server dropped a glass the audience cheered. Anything to break up the awful noise masquerading as song. When it was over, they descended to their booth where Maria was waiting. She was delighted at what she’d just seen, what she’d done. “So, fighters can dance but not sing. Noted.” Johnny decided to go for it.  The humiliation he experienced on stage had liberated him, emboldened him. “We have two more nights in town, can I take you to dinner tomorrow?” Mickey did not expect such a direct approach from Johnny. He was impressed and alarmed. He waited. Maria paused and stared at the stage where enveloped in smoke was someone singing the last bit of “You Can’t Hurry Love” by The Supremes. She turned away from them and walked up the stage. She whispered something to the host and he smiled. A song began to play, she held the microphone close. Johnny recognized the song and began to laugh at the irony. It was Hallelujah, the Jeff Buckley version. The Devil was singing Hallelujah. “Miami is magic and so is she.” He thought. She was singing beautifully, perfectly, the room was quiet and still. Only the orbiting lights from the mirror ball and cascading smoke were in motion. A minute into the song Johnny felt a tension in the room, it got into his chest, then his throat. The lump in his throat again. “What is this from?” he asked the smoke. In his mind’s eye he saw the face of his opponent from the fight. He had knocked him out cold. He looked dead on the canvas. After 3 agonizing minutes he was revived and helped on a stretcher, taken to the hospital. “He shouldn’t have been in the ring with me. He was there to pad my record and that made me angry, and I took it out on him.” He thought. The pain in his chest and throat began to hurt more and he began to quietly cry as Maria belted out the main chorus. A guilt spilled out of him and tears began to leak out his sunglasses and down his bee stung face. He thanked God for the darkness so that no one could see him cry and cursed La Diabla Maria for singing so beautifully it made him weep. Then, he looked over at Mickey and he too was tearing up. Without looking he punched Mickey in the arm, they wiped away tears and pointed at each other and at Maria. “Look what you did to us! We’re crying like a couple of Italians.” Johnny yelled. The only time they’d cried like that together was at their Father’s Wake drunk on the third day of a drinking binge. The audience applauded and wiped away warm tears as Maria descended down the smokey steps and sat with them, seeing her two friends wiping tears. “Jesus guys…shoot your shots.” 

They hadn’t noticed more shots. They did shoot their shots and more rounds came and they both pleaded their cases as to who was the more suitable suiter. She seemed delighted by the attention and appeared to entertain the possibility of a date with either of them without choosing one. There were then a couple more places. 

Mickey asked a bartender at a Salsa Bar what time it was because the bar clock was wrong. He was wrong, the clock was correct. It was only 10:15. The last thing Johnny remembered was dancing with an elderly lady in a lobby of a hotel not their own.

Johnny awoke to the sound of the ocean and heat on his face. He heard people far away talking and laughing along with the unmistakable sound of plates and silverware being set. He could here kids yelling, a small plane above nearby, sea gulls and a UFO. It had to be a UFO. It was a whirring, humming sound as if coming from a giant magnet. It got louder, closer, until through his closed eyes he could see the shadow from it directly above him. “Shit, why not.” He thought, resigned to his first alien abduction. He opened his eyes and he saw the UFO move away and a giant man with headphones on, staring at him with a smile. An old man with a metal detector looking for treasure beneath the sand. Mickey was awake 10 feet from him, sitting up in the sand watching the old man walk away from Johnny after a brief head scan, imagining many a lost Rolex was found on these beaches. He got a text message from Maria, smiled and asked, “Hey, Johnny what do you want to do today?” “Absolutely nothing,” said Johnny. “I’m exhausted. My pain is all gone but I’d like to rest.” Mickey laughed to himself and told his sand covered, hungover nephew, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He re-read the text Maria sent. “Good morning sun burned Irishmen! I stole Johnny’s phone and your kindle. Come to Rock and Bowl, we have spiked malted milkshakes that will cure you and I’ll reserve a lane for you guys. Best of 5 games…winner takes me to dinner.” Love, La Diabla