"I've been out here, I'm grinding
In the midst of the violence
You making decisions
But they only for profit
You don't know what's real
You trading your soul just to make the dinero
So today I'm the villain
'Bout to send a uppercut to your heroes
Your money don't mean nothing
The rich and the poor got the same fate
The whole world's on a blind date
Sinner and saint"

Tommee Profitt—"Sinner & Saint"

She wouldn't answer the intercom system the first time he showed up.

Damian Anderson stood in front of the multi-million-dollar mansion and waited for Mary Anne Creed to either curse him out or send her private security down to shoo him away. Three days after that, he stood there and gave his story about being friends with Adonis from way back. From her security cameras, she took one look at his threadbare sweat pants, worn-down trainers, and the black ankle monitor on his right leg and told him to get the hell on and stay away from her property. Threats of having him hauled off by force echoed onto his back as he shuffled away, not wanting to cause a scene or mess up his probation. Returning to the halfway house they placed him in near downtown L.A., he was grateful to find an unused bus transfer he could use to get back there again.

On the third trip to Beverly Hills, he brought one of Donnie's handwritten letters to prove that he was there for a good reason.

He wanted to see an old pal.

Donnie didn't write very many letters while Damian was in prison. There were only eight, and the fifth letter was the most important one. Written in blue ink with earnest penmanship, a nineteen-year-old Donnie Creed promised to help him get back on his feet whenever he got out of prison. Every month for four years, Donnie put money on Damian's prison account so he could purchase snacks and extras that the prison didn't provide for. One day, the money stopped coming. So did the biannual letters.

Damian understood.

Real life kept going while niggas were locked up. Prisoners were put away and forgotten. Shit happened like that and there was nothing Damian could do. Donnie had been a young buck, sixteen, reckless, and following Damian for street cred and friendship. Being eighteen, Damian knew better than to get a square mixed up in his life. Donnie had done some juvie time, but he had a family to set him straight. He also had Damian who took the rap to protect his friend from going back to a cell.

Tried as an adult, he kept his mouth shut about his friend and told authorities that Donnie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. All the criminal charges fell on him. His boy walked.

Mary Anne Creed had access to the best lawyers and wrapped Donnie up in a cocoon of protection. Damian had a shitty court-appointed attorney until Donnie's adoptive mother paid for his representation. He already had a record, so he still had to do hard time even with the expensive lawyer. The only bright side was that he wouldn't do life.

Damian spent nearly half his life in prison. Out free, he counted on Donnie to stay true to his word. He had been a rich boy and an even richer man with his new status as a world champion boxer, so Damian planned on collecting what was due: a man's word. That shit was a bond that couldn't be broken, especially with all the hard time he did covering for Donnie. Mary Anne should've understood that.

A Black thirty-ish security guard ambled over to the tall gate and glared at Damian.

"Mrs. Creed, I have a letter here that proves I know Donnie. I'm Damian Anderson—"

"I know who you are."

Mary Anne's winter frost voice blared from the intercom.

"Sir, I need you to leave," the guard said.

"Hold on, bruh. Lemme just talk to the lady real quick… Mrs. Creed. I'm not here begging for no handout. I just want to speak to Donnie… let him know I'm out and to thank you for trying to help me back then."

"Adonis is a busy man. I'll let him know you came by, but do not come here again. Do you understand me? Your ties to him are over, and it would be wise for you to stay away from all of us. If you come here again, I will be forced to call the authorities, and I know you don't want that."

Damian grit his teeth. The guard handed him a thick white envelope through the gate.

"What's this?" Damian asked.

The guard shrugged and walked back up the long, curved driveway. Damian opened the white envelope. One thousand dollars cash in twenty-dollar bills. He stuffed it inside the side pocket of his small black leather bag. Everything he owned in life was packed tight inside the bag. He didn't trust the halfway house at all. Too many hard luck men were there and theft was possible.

"Mrs. Creed, I don't need charity. I just need to talk to Donnie."

He waited five minutes until the silence embarrassed him. Stepping away from the gate, he staggered over to the street curb and checked the cheap watch he bought at a dollar store. The next bus back to downtown L.A. was in forty minutes and a thirty-minute walk was needed to get to the pickup stop. He gripped his bag and let out a defeated sigh. Mary Anne Creed was most definitely the type to call the cops if he showed up again. The downtown library had public computers he could use to find Donnie through his social media. He only knew about the mansion because Mary Anne had done a celebrity Mom segment on Entertainment Tonight and they showed the gate of the mansion with a giant gold letter "C" on the front. He spent hours jogging up and down the streets of Beverly Hills, looking for the exact gate until he found it.

Damian bent down to tighten the laces on his trainers and he heard the soft clink sound of the gates opening. He stood up fast. There was no security guard around. A whipped cream white Lucid Air electric car zipped down the driveway with music thumping from within. It stopped once it crossed over the gate's threshold and the passenger window rolled down. Damian's breath huffed out of his throat when he took in the beauty of a dreamy dark beauty with a dazzling smile of perfect teeth. Goddess braids cascaded over one shoulder as she stared at him with sultry dark eyes.

"What do you want with Adonis?" she asked.

Damian kept his distance from the car but ducked his head low to see her clearly.

"He said he'd help me out when I got free," he said.

"Damian, right?"

"Yeah."

"You should listen to my mother and keep clear of this house. Adonis doesn't live here."

"Listen. I'm a boxer. I only want to talk about boxing and getting into the ring myself. Me and Donnie used to train—"

"Save the story."

"This ain't no scam or nothin'…"

Damian reached into his bag and pulled out the last letter he received from Donnie. He held it out to her window.

"The last thing he wrote to me was that I could find him and see about boxing again. That's it," he said.

The woman reached over and took the letter. She read the two pages front to back and glanced over at him when she was done.

"You took all the heat for him," she said.

He nodded.

She regarded him with a cautious look and handed the letter back. Damian folded it up and placed it in his front jean pocket.

"Why would you take the fall by yourself?" she asked.

"He was my friend. Younger than me. Had a future brighter than mine."

"Still… you paid a high price for my brother," she said.

"You're Athena?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Your Moms is not open to me at all. All I want is to talk to your brother about training. I'm a good fighter."

"As good as him?"

"Better."

Athena's eyes sparkled when he said that.

"You sound pretty confident," she said.

"Donnie said he would help me. I'm free and I'm hungry."

"You betta be. The men climbing into the ring now are bruisers."

"Yeah, well, they ain't fought me yet."

She grinned.

"Try the Delphi Boxing Academy," she said.

Damian stared into her eyes. She had her father's color, and both she and Donnie had the same nose and feisty energy about them. He dug into his bag and pulled out an address book and a small pencil. Writing the name carefully, she told him the address, too.

"Thank you. 'preciate this," he said, holding up his address book.

"Good luck," she said.

She shifted gears and took off. He watched her expensive electric car glide down the street quietly.

"Okay, we're getting somewhere," he told himself.

He walked with a little more pep in his step. His stomach grumbled. Grinning, he held his bag close to his body. He had cash to buy himself a good meal before returning to the halfway house. Thoughts of steak and garlic mashed potatoes made his mouth water. Prison food made him humble. One thousand dollars in his pocket made him desire a gourmet meal. Something Donnie probably ate every night with his pretty wife and daughter.

Damian made it halfway down the street when he noticed Athena's car reversing from the corner. She pulled up next to him.

"You walked here?" she asked.

"Took the bus," he said. "Next one is due in thirty-five minutes."

"Get in," she said.

He gazed at her with uncertainty.

"I'm the one who should look at you like that. I'll give you a ride there. Will you have a way to get home from there?"

"I stay at a halfway house. The curfew is at ten. I have a bus pass."

"Come on," she said.

He hopped in and held his bag on his lap.

"You try anything, I have a taser and the cops on speed dial with my steering wheel," she said, showing him the buttons on her steering wheel.

He nodded.

"Lots of folks have been robbed lately and one old couple was killed near here, so I'm ready for anything crazy," she said.

He gave a smirk and caught her watching his face. At the stoplight, she regarded him for a long time. She dressed like she was on her way to a yoga session or something. Her fingers turned up her music, and they bobbed heads to R & B and some pop fluff.

"What's it like?" he asked.

"What's what like?" she said, turning onto Santa Monica Boulevard.

"Being the daughter of a famous champion and the sister of the latest boxing champion."

Athena rolled her eyes.

"My life stayed the same," she said.

She smelled so good. Her car was brand new and pristine. Her perfume and the hair oils for her protective braids overpowered the new car smell. She had a slender athletic build, full breasts, and average height. He caught her glancing at him a few times. The self-consciousness he normally felt didn't bother him. Something about her made him feel okay about being an ex-con. She didn't judge him or treat him like he was less than her because of it.

An hour later, she pulled into a strip mall.

"That's his car right there," she said.

A sable Rolls Royce SUV took up three spaces parked the wrong way horizontally in front of the Delphi Boxing Academy. Damian gazed at the late model SUV and pumped himself up mentally to see Donnie again.

"I'd take you in and introduce you, but… me and Adonis, we're not exactly in a good place right now," she said.

Her steely eyes were on her steering wheel.

"Thanks for the ride, Athena," he said.

"Good luck with him. He owes you a lot," she said.

Damian stepped out of her car and put her passenger seat back the way he found it. His immense body had to shift the position of the car seat to get comfortable and Athena watched him with amused eyes.

She drove off, and he watched the finest woman he had ever seen in his life disappear into traffic. Her scent, unmatched beauty, and openness aroused his desire for female companionship. Damian had done some things in prison to get him over sexually. Meeting a fine-ass beauty like Athena blotted away some past struggles of jerking off in front of other men, and allowing some to suck him off while he closed his eyes and imagined women like her taking care of him. God had truly watched over him. He had never been assaulted, nor had he resorted to using force on other men to get by. A few pretty boys over the years gave him head when he had to share a cell. When he was given his own solo bunk after beating up too many inmates, Damian used his imagination to satisfy himself. If a nigga couldn't fight in San Quentin, he was prey. He was never the prey. Damian went to jail as a child, barely out of his teenage years. He walked out a haunted man with something to prove to the world.

A boxing champion lived inside of him.

He eyed Donnie's car, then checked out the entrance of the academy. It was better to wait by the man's whip and catch him when he came out. Going inside, Donnie could make up any excuse to leave or hide in an office somewhere and pretend to not be there. Damian tossed his bag on the hood of the SUV and posted up against the quarter of a million-dollar vehicle. Being the champ had nice perks.

He didn't have to wait long.

Adonis Creed strolled out of the gym with a confident, unhurried gait. He wore an olive-colored sweatshirt with a tan blazer. His head was down, preoccupied with his cell phone.

"Hey, my man, can I help you?" Donnie called out, glaring at Damian.

Damian folded his hands across his stomach and stared at him.

"Lemme get a autograph," Damian said before quirking up his extra full lips into a smile.

"Nah, I ain't signing no autographs, but you can get off my car."

Damian grinned harder. Lil nigga tried to put some edge in his throat.

"You don't remember me, huh?" Damian said.

If his smile had been any wider or harder, his lips would've split his face in two as he watched the expression on Donnie's face change with confusion and then garner curiosity. The man stopped walking and studied Damian's face like he was going through a catalog of people he tried to forget when he ran the streets of L.A. pretending to be a hood boy when he was really the son of a rich dead hero from Watts. Born to middle-class parents, Apollo Creed became a superstar athlete in college. He gave up an NFL football career to become a boxer at twenty-six. His youngest son stared at Damian Anderson until a light bulb went off.

"Damian?" Donnie said with a hushed tone in his voice.

Damian held his hands out.

"The one and only," he said.

Donnie walked up to him and they shook hands, bumping shoulders with a half hug shared between them.

"You all swole up, man," Donnie said with a genuine smile.

"I'm tryin' to be like you, bruh."

"You hungry? I was going to grab a bite down the street."

"Yeah, I could eat something."

"You drive?"

"Nah, your sister Athena gave me a ride."

Adonis's body stiffened, and his once friendly smile grew tight.

"Hope that's not a problem. I was over at your Mom's. She wasn't down for me looking for you there. Ran into your sister and she offered a ride. Told me to stay away from Mrs. Creed," Damian said.

"Yeah, Mary Anne ain't one to test."

"I get it. Wasn't tryin' to start no shit, man. Just lookin' for you. Wanted to talk… that's all."

"Get in," Donnie said.

He tapped a key fob, and the SUV opened up. Damian placed his bag in the back passenger seat and then climbed into the front.

Adonis took on a jovial air as they rode down the street. Damian knew it was all for show. Something about the way he reacted to his sister driving him there revealed they were never that tight. Adonis being an outside oops baby probably had a lot to do with that.

Damien tapped his thigh in time with the Hip Hop Donnie blasted through his speakers. The man had it all. Family. Fame. Money.

Damian wanted a piece for himself. Donnie promised him so much for taking the fall from their past. It was time for him to pay up.

They pulled in front of a neighborhood food joint, and Damian stepped out, stretching his arms. Donnie peeped the ankle monitor but said nothing to him about it. A sense of nervous fear crept into the champ's eyes as he regarded the size of Damian's body. Damian ignored it and concentrated on his goal for the moment. Get into Donnie's good graces so they could bond together again.

Donnie glanced at his cell phone and took a call outside near the entrance.

"Athena… yeah… I'm with him now…"

Damian turned away to give the man privacy, but he smiled hearing Athena's name spoken. He focused on the money in his bag that Mary Anne gave him. He could buy Athena a gracious gift for hooking him up. What could a woman like her, who had everything, want from a guy like him as a thank you?

A grim expression came over Donnie's face, but he fixed it quickly as he handed his cell to Damian.

"Hello?" Damian said.

"Glad you found him. Does he look the same as you remembered?"

Damian turned his back on Donnie.

"He does. He didn't recognize me, though," Damian said.

"Do you have a cell phone yet?" she asked.

"I have one—"

"Give me your number," she said.

"323-555-5655," he said.

"I'll call you later to see how everything went. Adonis can be… interesting. Bye."

Damian handed the cell back to Donnie and followed him into the restaurant. The sound of Athena's voice enthralled him. He floated all the way to the booth to eat with her brother.