Falling E-Book

Ralph Zieff

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Hank Bellakoff is an above-average fighter in the mob-ridden 1990's Boston boxing scene.

When a series of unfortunate events brings danger and fear into his life, he escapes, leaving behind people he cares deeply about, and several women who have broken his heart.

What begins as a cross-country odyssey turns into a painful road of self-reflection and coming to terms with his painful childhood. But when misfortune derails his journey, can he reach a higher level of self-understanding and awareness, and finally be content with who he is?

Leseprobe

FALLING

RALPH ZIEFF

CONTENTS

I. Fight And Flight

1. The Fight

2. Henry Bellakoff

3. The Dressing Room

4. The Hospital

5. Chelsea Memorial Park and Bubba

6. The Round Card Girl

7. Will Sargent and The Next Round

8. Commissioner Charles Schumacher, and Old Mister Potter

9. Donna Toohey

10. Jack and Donna Toohey

11. Bubba

12. Hank and Bev Redux

13. Bubba’s Confession

14. Flee By Night

15. Bagels, Lox, and Planning

16. Places, And Terry

II. Descendance

17. Henry Bellakoff

18. New Mexico and Arizona Reflections

19. Feeling Adrift, And Then, Karyn

20. The Trip

21. Ensenada

22. At the Happy Gull

23. Running Downward

24. Hank and Henry

25. EPILOGUE

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2020 Ralph Zieff

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Jane Wood

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

PART1

FIGHT AND FLIGHT

ONE

THE FIGHT

Hank Bellakoff felt sick to his stomach as he reeled backwards, his swollen face barely recognizable through the blood and sweat. He heard his head thud on the canvas floor, and his eyes, although more than half closed, were watching the swirling merry-go-round world of the Boston Arena spinning by.

He became aware of two legs near his head, legs in black pants, grey socks, and very well-shined black Italian leather shoes.

“Four," the owner of the legs called out. “Five…Six…Seven."

At “Seven," Hank’s head and vision had cleared just enough for him to make his re-entry into the Middleweight fight, now in the eighth round, that he had been in until being rudely interrupted by a leathery black blob that had mashed the left side of his nose, probably breaking it.

"Watch out for his fuckin’ right hand,” he had been warned, just two minutes earlier by Bubba, his manager, in his brief respite before Round 8, and yes, it was the right that smashed into his face hard enough to produce a heavy flow of disgusting metallic-tasting blood.

Hank took two wobbly steps toward the referee while clumsily trying to wipe the blood away with his gloved right hand and lifting his left enough to show he was ready to fight on.

“I'm good…I'm good,” he said when the ref asked if he wanted to continue.The referee grabbed both of Hank’s gloved hands, shook them enough to be able to tell whether or not he had enough strength and looking into his eyes to see if he was sufficiently functional to continue, and then backed off as the hard-charging Archie Sanborn came in for the kill. He swung wildly at Hank’s head and missed. Hank lunged forward and grabbed onto the fighter, wrapping his arms around him at elbow level, nullifying all of Archie’s bad intentions for almost twenty seconds…just thirty seconds more to get out of the eighth round.

By doing lots of backing up, Hank got to that rescuing clang that followed the predictable canvas thumping by twelve seconds.The thumping was always supposed to be a ten second warning that the round was almost over, but Harry Goodson, a long time Arena employee was always purposely early. Harry believed doing that was giving an edge to any home town fighter who knew about it over an out-of -towner who didn’t. In this case, Hank just clinched a little longer until the bell.

In his corner, Hank learned from Bubba that as usual he hadn’t listened, was not using his hands enough, and was “sleep-walking" his way through this bout… and that he was about to lose to that "old dumb fuck" Archie, who was actually two months younger than Hank, both men being an almost over the hill thirty-six.

When the bell rang for the ninth round, Bubba just about pushed Hank off the stool. Hank's face had smudges of Vaseline all over it, especially around his nose, which was still oozing a little blood. The ring doctor jumped in front of Hank with a flashlight, shined it in Hank’s eyes as a cursory concussion check, looked closely at his nose and asked him if he really wanted to continue.

“He's fine, Doc, leave him alone…he's okay,” Bubba yelled, and Hank nodded and mumbled, “I'm okay, Doc…lemme go."

The doctor, Iggy Luchesa, was a long time Ring Doctor with a very specialized practice that had only Mafia members as patients. "Okay, but I’m only giving you one more round at most, Hank…Are you sure you can breathe?"

Bubba declared that Hank didn’t need to breathe, just punch, and told his fighter, “It's knockout or lose, Hank. Go get the bastard."

Hank dutifully stumbled back into the middle of the ring, and an almost growling Archie came charging at him as the bell sounded for Round 9. Hank got distracted for a split second, seeing the almost fully exposed breasts of the Round Card girl who was bending to get through the ropes as she left the ring, just one of those habits that never goes away. Because of the distraction, he caught a solid punch on his right shoulder, a rather harmless shot, and then, making it look as accidental as possible, punched ol’ Archie a good four inches below the belt of his ugly purple satin trunks, evoking a pained howl from "the old bastard.’"

Archie crumpled down to one knee on the canvas, yelling "Chezus, Ref!" The referee bent down to talk to the fallen fighter, asking him if he needed some time to recuperate from the low blow. Archie nodded yes, and the referee told him he could have up to five minutes to do so. He then approached Hank and warned him that any other low blow would cost him two points on the judges’ scorecards, and a third would result in disqualification, and loss of the fight. Hank thought to himself, "Two points ? Shit, I’m so far behind that points don’t mean anything to me; I either knock him out, or lose, like Bubba said."

Archie used almost four of the five minutes allotted to a fighter recuperating from a low blow, then stood up, told the referee, “Let's go!", glaring at Hank, and the ref waved for the two men on to resume fighting. Something told Hank that an angry Archie would be out to decapitate him. He knew his burly opponent was well aware that he had purposely hit low, and nothing makes a fighter any more angry.

Hank was right. Archie came lunging at him and landed a left on his right cheek bone that hurt, but far from being the guillotine Archie wished for. Hank, anticipating the wild rush, saw in a flash that wide open "sweet spot" which was the right side of Archie’s face. Summoning up every ounce of remaining strength he had, Hank landed a thundering left hook to Archie’s right cheek bone and temple, and watched as his opponent crumpled to the canvassed floor with a thump, blood already oozing from the right side of his mouth, and then a glassy-eyed look up at Hank.

The referee didn’t bother counting, but rather waved both of his arms from side to side that indicated the fight was over. He then waved for Doc Luchesa to get into the ring, and within a minute the ref, the Ring Doctor, and Archie’s corner men were all kneeling next to the fallen fighter, one man putting a pillow under Archie’s head. Hank, aware of how hard he had punched the man, watched nervously from his corner as Bubba was yelling praise and congratulations at him for the startling knockout. He saw that Iggy and his trainer were talking to Archie, but there was no real response from the still-conscious fighter.

Within minutes a stretcher was brought into the ring, Archie placed on it, and it was taken out of the Arena to a smattering of respectful applause from the still shocked crowd.

"I don’t like this, Bubba,” Hank told his still celebrating manager. "I think I may have killed him.”

Bubba turned to look at the stretcher just as it was going out the entrance way and said, “Naw…He's a tough guy; he’ll be okay.”

An ominous feeling growing in Hank was telling him that for once he was right and Bubba was wrong.

TWO

HENRY BELLAKOFF

Henry Bellakoff (his parents never gave him a middle name. Hank always told people his family was too poor to afford one for him) was born on March 18, 1956, in Boston’s West End neighborhood, to Lithuanian Jewish immigrant parents. He also always told people that if he was born one day earlier he would have been an Irish Catholic. Only to those who knew him best would he say that he wished he had been born three days earlier, on the Ides of March, because then just one back-stabbing would have done him in, rather than the multiple ones he had already experienced. He got no argument about that from those who knew him well. His back seemed particularly scarred from his relationships with women. There were many, and of those, quite a few had inglorious endings.

Hank, the older of two boys, with a three year younger brother, Barney Charles (the family must have had more money for giving a middle name when Barney was born) was a high energy athletic kid who was a good enough swimmer to be a life-guard at Boston’s men only L Street Beach. There was a women’s side behind a high wall that many a man tried to scale believing the women were nude as some of the men were (although a little stringed jock strap was supposed to be mandatory), only to find out they wore bathing suits. Every once in a while a very excited teenage boy would be running around the men’s side yelling that he caught a glimpse of a naked girl.

The mandatory crotch cover for men was intermittently enforced by Bruno, a huge ex-heavyweight boxer with two cauliflower ears, a dulled mind, and a long handled feather tickler used to tickle uncovered. “packages." That was a "Get covered or else I’ll bounce you out" warning from the man no one wanted to tangle with. No one ever knew how much this former New England heavyweight champion made for strolling the men’s side of L Street Beach looking for naked balls to tickle, and no one really cared.

Hank also started fighting at a Boston boxing club when he was fourteen and took to the sport immediately. Between those endeavors, his job selling newspapers, and his high school studies, he was one busy boy because his father, a barber, died suddenly at age 43 while cutting someone’s hair. Hank, then twelve and the older one, became the designated replacement for his father, which meant he would be the one to go out and earn enough to support his mother, his little brother,…and oh, yeah…himself. His mother, understandably bitter about being suddenly abandoned with two young boys, always found young Henry to be the best target for her anger and resentment, partly because he looked a lot like her dead husband.

Hank dropped all his odd jobs when he turned pro as a boxer at age 18. He also somehow managed to graduate high school, and with pretty good grades. He was actually a lot smarter than he ever gave himself credit for. He was fortunate to meet Bubba Dixon early in his amateur days at the boxing club, and Bubba, a pretty decent middleweight fighter in his day, taught him a lot.

The highlight of Bubba’s career had been a tenth round knockout in an ABC TV Saturday afternoon semi-final bout, of Johnny Godello, a former world contender. While he was a local celebrity for a while after his TV glory, Bubba’s career stalled badly because of a broken right hand and too much Jim Beam. He was never able to come back fully, and he decided to become a teacher/manager when he was given a good offer from Whitey Zackman, who owned one of the best area fight clubs.

Bubba was to become the only person in Hank’s life that he ever really trusted. It seemed like all the people in the fight game, if they weren’t Italian, were Jewish, just enough to convince Hank, on Bubba’s advice, that he didn’t need to change his name to Kid O’Halloran to be successful.

When Bubba first met the teenage Hank, he was impressed with his toughness and his smarts, and made him his number one project. The kid learned quickly, and with his natural powerful punching ability with either hand, was destined for a championship someday, Bubba believed.

When Hank turned pro, still just a kid, he got off to a flying start, knocking out his first six opponents (chosen for their ineptitude), and then won three straight decisions over some decent local fighters. Then, when a former welterweight title holder who gained enough weight to try to move up a division was looking for a relatively inexperienced middleweight, Bubba offered up Hank, but insisted that the fight be fought in Boston rather than Milwaukee, the ex-champ’s home town. It was the main event in a Thanksgiving weekend promotion, and the fight stirred up a lot of interest in the Northern New England area.

"This is your first real test, kid, and I know you can beat that has-been,” Bubba repeatedly told the nervous Hank.

On the night of the fight Hank, hearing the din of the big crowd that was there to watch and cheer for him, threw up in the dressing room. Bubba convinced him that puking before a big fight was a good thing, and he mentioned a few well known area athletes, but especially the great Bill Russell of the Boston Celtics, who often threw up before basketball games.

Hank also threw up again in the dressing room after being knocked out in the fifth round by the ex-champ. Bubba was not so happy about that puking, but told Hank it was really okay that he was no longer undefeated.

"Too much pressure,” he said. He also said Hank should think of the loss as a good learning experience that will lead to important improvements in his boxing skills.

Hank usually thought of such comments from his caring manager as Bubba’s own brand of happy horseshit, and they usually did nothing for his mood.

"Yeah, there ya’ go, in one ear and out the other,” Bubba would say when he could tell Hank wasn't taking him seriously. But both men knew that when Bubba was really teaching him some important boxing stuff, like how to find that little "window" in your opponent that is open for an uppercut, the teacher/student relationship was golden. Hank continued to rise in the middleweight division rankings, to the point where he was now considered the #4 challenger for the championship. The big knockout over Archie would likely raise him to #3.

However, over these years of boxing success, Hank was taking his lumps outside the ring, with a string of broken relationships with women, most ending hurtfully for the very romantic Mister Bellakoff. Falling in love was very easy for him, and women gladly reciprocated, drawn to his self-confidence, his genuine respect for women, and his powerful boxer persona. His handsome Lithuanian looks (very fair skin, killer blue eyes, and jet black hair) just added to his aura, and Hank spent very few months in his life when he wasn't connected to someone. The women he chose were never the brassy, aggressive "bimbo" type. Women who were more subtle, intelligent, funny and yet sophisticated, were the type he would chose, and most were slender or petite.

Bubba didn’t like most of Hank’s girlfriends, viewing them as distractions for Hank, or competitors for his own role as the most important person in his boxer’s life. The major exception to that was Beverly Ross.

Beverly was all the things Hank wanted, and none of the things Bubba feared. Both men always agreed that Hank’s and Bev’s three year relationship was the best ever. When the relationship ended two years ago, for reasons Bubba never understood, he was almost as heartbroken as Hank. Hank himself was devastated, and for the first time ever said he was done with relationships. That resolve lasted about three months, when he began an affair with the wife of Jack Toohey, one of the three biggest boxing promoters in New England.

Donna Toohey was a slinky, sultry, gorgeous brunette that every man who knew her lusted for. Being married to the much older but wealthy Toohey worked for her up to a point…spending yes, screwing no. She was immediately attracted to Hank, and she let him know it in every way she could without being obvious to others, especially, of course, to Jack, who was known as "that Irishman with the violent temper.”

Hank eventually succumbed to Donna’s pursuit one hot August night in the bushes outside the Toohey’s lavish mansion, where inside Jack was doing solo schmoozing with the elite of the Boston sports scene. The encounter was both passionate and painful as both got their rear ends jabbed by sharp little branches and even sharper thorns. Luckily, the music was playing loudly enough inside for no one to hear the "Oh God!”s and “Ouch!”s" from the groping and panting couple. It was clear to both from this first encounter that it would not be their last. Three months later Donna broke it off, telling Hank that Jack was getting suspicious, and she was not prepared to risk her lavish life style nor Hank’s career, or maybe even his life. While Bubba was convinced it was only her life style she really cared about, good ol’ romantic Hank preferred to believe she did it to protect him.

When it hit the newspapers a few months later that Eduardo Gomez, a promising local light-heavyweight with movie star good looks, was fished out of Boston Harbor with multiple bullet holes in his once powerful torso, the area boxing community immediately covertly identified it as a Jack Toohey hit due to Eduardo’s messing around with Donna Toohey. Bubba saved his "I told you so!”s, knowing Hank would just find some way to explain it that would allow him to hold on to his romantic fantasy about his relationship with the very hot Donna.