She didn't tell me

Three minutes at the rack. Gloves on, Danny holding the mitts waiting, me not throwing a single one. That was the whole conversation. I didn't have the words so I stood there until the words came. They didn't come. So I told him. She didn't tell me. He said yeah. I asked did he know. He didn't answer.

Not Jules — I'll get to Jules. Danny's no-answer is the part I can't get past tonight. I rate people by what they don't say. I know that's a shit thing to do. I'm writing it here because this page doesn't talk back.

Jules is my cutwoman. Briggs is Voss's trainer. If Briggs texted her last Tuesday and she didn't mention it, she has a reason. She was checking the other corner, or weighing something, or she didn't think it mattered. I don't know which one I want to be true. I think I want the dumb one. I think she's smarter than the dumb one.

When she came in and closed the door I was still at the ropes with my fists down. I didn't look at her. I don't know what my face was doing. I wanted it to do nothing. I wanted to be the guy who didn't need the answer. I'm not that guy. I'm the guy who runs twenty pull-counters in a row because that's the only sentence I know how to finish.

Danny's silence is still in the dark. I'll ask him again tomorrow. I'll ask until he answers or he tells me to stop. That's the deal we have. We don't let things stay in the room.