LA Road Trip and Sparring Deals
That was more than enough to forgive a slip-up. As soon as Bruce's interview wrapped up, everyone started praising me.
"Whoa... I can't believe he's only 16? First time I've seen a kid that age talk like that."
It was probably because of my professional take on the WFC. Still, since Bruce had recognized me, he added a greeting as we wrapped up.
"Once the video drops, I'll hand over the rights to Korean Monster. And I'll come on for free—no appearance fee."
"That'd be a real honor."
Bruce looked dead certain I'd blow up.
"You nailed that bottom buy."
"Hahaha. Looking forward to the payoff."
"Alright, I'll head out first."
"Oh, here's some pocket money on the side."
He suddenly opened a drawer, pulling out three envelopes. Bruce grabbed the thickest one.
"Threw in the fee from that last interview too."
I eyed it—easily two grand inside—and my eyes went wide. I'd already gotten a grand for this appearance.
"Stash it away. Business has to be solid, right? That interview was sharp as hell."
"Damn... this is nice side cash."
"Hahaha. Gotta lock in those bottom buys."
"Here's your one-time Korean Monster usage right in advance. Call anytime—I'll come running."
I stepped out and hopped into Big Aunt's car for the ride home. I handed her a grand for a month's rides. She beamed, proud as hell, and gave it right back.
"No money changing hands in the family."
"Then I'll go all out for Christmas this year."
"Now that's tempting."
Back home, I did some light training, showered, and crashed. Days blurred into training routines, and at the boxing gym, I helped with Colin's sessions. Whittaker sucked at explaining things—needed a translator. I worked with Whittaker to drill Colin. Of course, I trained alongside, pointing out fixes.
As I turned 17, Colin's tournament in LA loomed. LA had zero ties to me. Never fought there. We were piling into Whittaker's car. Closest megacity from San Francisco, but still a five-hour haul. That's why Americans treat five hours like next door. In Korea, it'd be coast to coast.
"Can't fly for just LA."
Whittaker thought the same about Vegas. Funny thing: all the WFC guys in SF bused it in—eight hours, no plane option.
I went for shotgun, but Colin snatched it. Stuck in the back, I stretched out comfy.
"Back seat's not bad."
"You got money—why slum it?"
"Who upgraded your hotel?"
"...No way."
He hated taking handouts from me. So he glared at Whittaker, dead serious. But Whittaker's hand flew first.
Smack!
"Ow!"
Colin's face took a full Whittaker palm.
"Special treatment 'cause your fight's gonna be fire. Don't listen to that punk."
"Right?"
Colin glared at me again, so I just grinned.
"Why fly and make us ride together?"
"Who hears you, thinks you're driving? It's Whittaker's car, not yours."
On that note, I slipped Colin gas money smooth. He started to protest, then saw the fifty bucks and smirked. Real fuel cost. I knew Whittaker—he'd only flip over big amounts.
Two weeks till the fight, so Colin couldn't grasp why I was tagging along early. Guess my rich-kid vibes made him think I'd fly in last minute.
I wasn't a pro driver, but I didn't hate cars, so I chilled, staring out the window.
"In-N-Out?"
"Grab your own."
"Man... that's master love. You gotta kiss Whittaker's ass forever."
Whittaker starved alongside me every cut. Hell, he barely ate. Basically claimed Colin as a prized pupil too. But Colin scowled at my words again.
"Don't order me around on basics, or you're dead."
"How you gonna kill me?"
"Don't make me buy a gun over your ass."
"...Fair point."
If he was gunning for a piece, no more messing. But it locked in the pecking order too.
"Third time asking: why tag along early?"
"LA sightseeing. I'm Korean?"
"..."
Was a Korean tourist in America that weird? They both stared like I'd lost it. Sometimes they forgot I was Korean.
Five hours in the car knotted my shoulders. I stretched in the parking lot, loosening up.
"Ahh."
The WBC-provided hotel looked solid. Colin only moved for WBC events. Tough comparing to WFC—boxing's structure was worlds apart. Debut venue set the vibe. Colin built his record here, so no jumping orgs.
If fighters were actors—extras, supporting, leads—then the big four orgs picked based on promoters. The majors hosted awards or headliners. Colin was extra-tier, grinding for lead status with WBC's shot.
While Whittaker and Colin grabbed bags, I warmed up. Someone approached.
"Long time."
I glanced over mid-stretch. WBC flyweight champ Diego.
"Oh? Yeah, been a bit. You fighting?"
"Not here for me, obviously..."
He spotted Colin unloading and grinned.
"Here for Colin's fight, huh."
"Yep."
"Caught your amateur bouts. Gets why you picked WFC."
Cool he'd watched, even with my rising buzz. Maybe he was scouting me.
"Opponent's an outboxer your size."
"And?"
"Sparring partner?"
That's why he rushed over. I rubbed my chin, thinking. Diego was bold, but his coaches shot desperate looks.
"Fight's soon—full spars tough."
"True."
"And I don't move cheap."
"Fifty a round. Eighty if it helps. Ten grand bonus if I win thanks to you."
Was gonna say money didn't sway me, but three minutes at fifty? Twenty minutes of rounds was five hundred, easy. Two hours minimum—no brainer.
"One more condition."
"Shoot."
"Three rounds trial. Then bump to hundred a round. Keeps you serious."
"...Deal."
No suspicion—my confident hike sold it.
"One more. I don't hold back if lines crossed. Unless you want your head snapped off, set spar intensity clear."
Stung hearing that from a kid, face and age-wise. Straight-up saying I'd smoke him straight.
"I want no injuries. Fight in two weeks."
"Cool. Call an hour early. Hotel-bound except today."
I handed my phone as he offered a handshake. He dialed himself, grinning.
"Counting on you."
"Yessir. And head coach?"
The older coach looked over.
"Email opponent's tape. Grab my number too."
He nodded at my pro ask. Phone back, I shook Diego's hand. Then joined waiting Whittaker and Colin inside.
Colin started his diet, so I Ubered out solo. LA spot I had to hit: Santa Monica Pier from unreleased GTA5.
Snapped pics on arrival. Koreans everywhere, true to form—even here. GTA exploded its fame, or was it always hot? Korean tourists confirmed tourist trap.
"Korean?"
"Yeah."
"You look so exotic~"
"Mixed. Dad's from SF."
"Ah, figures. Mind snapping ours?"
"Sure~"
I took their camera, framing best as possible. They loved the shots.
"Real Korean touch."
"?"
I tilted my head, confused. She panicked—my size spooked her.
"N-no, you nailed it perfectly."
"Oh~"
I posed with the Ferris wheel behind. They bought me coffee for the great pic. Strolled after, hit rides solo for memories, seafood dinner, then back to hotel.