Billy cringed. He anticipated the blow. He clenched his jaw, stiffened his lips, and held his neck rigid. The glove came in from the right, a hook to Billy’s chin. It hit him with such force that he briefly saw stars.

“Eight!” a voice called out.

With absolute resolve, Billy clenched his jaw again, preparing for the inevitable, and another blow hit him in the chin, from the left that time. It was harder than the one before and it stunned Billy more than he liked.

“Nine!” the voice called out again.

In the corner of the Brooklyn gym, Billy and George stood near a mirror. Billy planted his feet shoulder width apart, his body stiff, his shoulders flexing. The gym was dark and vacant in the late hours of the evening.

“One more, Billy!” George s...

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