Chapter 3

Albano's

Albano's was a relatively new supper club on 46th street, having only opened a year ago. As such, it attracted young professionals and trust fund kids alike, sometimes playing host to top 40 musical acts. Mac had always imagined supper clubs as stuffy places full of cigar smoke, booming with smooth jazz music, so in that sense, the oddity that was Albano's intrigued him. But, if you'd told Mac 6 months ago, when he was on the bottom tier of the WVBA, that he would be able to afford a table here, with a date no-less, he would've laughed. But yet, here he, his girlfriend, and his coach stood, climbing the stairs to the door. Mac laughed as paparazzi had swarmed to snap pictures of him, but the door bouncers skuttled them away

Immediately upon seeing Mac, the young, attractive male host eyes lit up, "Champ!" he called, as if he'd known Mac for years, "The Captain figured you'd be coming around, there's a table open in one of our private booths."

Mac raised an eyebrow, "The Captain?"

"Yeah! Captain Albano! He's been a big fan of your work, says he sees a lot of himself in you. Right this way guys"

And so, they waded through the maze of tables, up to one of the booths in the back, which had a privacy screen, which reminded Mac of something he'd seen in a kung-fu movie.

"Now, before we get you started, can we get you anything to drink?"

"Water with lemon please." Alice said

"You got Sprite?"

"Of course we do!" said the host, "And you sir?" he said gesturing to Doc

"Y'all got any O'Doul's?" asked Doc

"Certainly do sir! Your waiter will be right back with all of it, and here to take your order." The host said, scuttling off, closing the privacy screen behind him

Mac smirked, "Hey Doc, I thought you woulda ordered yourself some Hennesy"

Alice snorted with laughter, before containing herself to say, "Idiot."

"Ey Mac, just cause you the champ, don't mean I can't backhand you if you keep up with that smart mouth"

"Fair enough boss. Last time you hit me with a Star Punch in training I couldn't eat solids for a week".

"Showin' up to Tyson's press conference lookin' like you just got yo wisdom teeth removed wouldn't look good."

Alice nodded, "Yeah! Your protein smoothies get extra gross when your jaw is broken."

Mac shrugged, "And yet there you stand in our kitchen, making 'em for me. That's why you're the champ."

"We make a good team, us three." Alice said with a smile.

Doc nodded, "We do, but we gotta pray for a miracle if we're gonna beat Mike."

Alice's smile suddenly snapped into a frown, "Doc! Why bring the mood down?"

"Sorry Alice, just thinkin' is all. Very few men have ever taken Mike to a second round professionally."

Alice looked over at Mac, who's expression had both darkened and glazed over. There was that fire she loved so much about him, and the fire that had carried him impossibly to the top of the WVBA. But, she didn't think that state of mind was appropriate for dinner, "Look, can we not talk about work tonight? This is a night of celebration after all."

"Yeah, you right. We're gonna toast as soon as the drinks get here."

It was at that moment, the privacy doors slid open, revealing their waiter. He was a scrawny African American man, with goofy looking teeth and an afro, looking about as aged as Doc.

Doc's eyes went wide, "I'll be damned, Alloysius?"

Mac's eyes went wide, as did the waiter's. Alice meanwhile, just looked confused

"Doc? The hell you doin' here?" said the waiter.

"Ah'm here with my charge, eatin' a goddamn dinner. What about you?"

"Fillin' in cause Captain's short handed. Him an' Pete co-run this place."

"Piston's got a hand in this place too? Thought he jus' opened up a disco club up the block."

As the two old men chattered away, Alice leaned over to Mac, whispering one simple word, "Who?"

"Kid Quick's our waiter, him 'an Piston trained with Doc in the old days."

Alice simply nodded. Doc and Alloysius had finished catching up, Doc having turned to Mac, "Kid, this is Alloysius Queen, aka Kid Quick, one 'a my runnin' buddies from my prime."

Mac nodded, "And you said somethin' 'bout Piston too?"

"Yeah!" piped up Kid Quick, handing the drinks to everyone, "He was in Miami for the longest time, but that went…um…bad, now he's back up here cashing in old favors."

"Doin' anything wit the ring?" Doc asked.

"Yeah! He's training my nephew Glenn. Kid wants ta get in to WVBA just like his uncle. Think he's got the raw athletic ability too, on account a' his dancin' and stuff. If ya ask me, I think he wants to train the next Little Mac! Congrats on the big win, champ!"

Mac nodded. Doc grinned from ear to ear, "We wus jus' talkin' bout needin' a miracle. If you 'an Gonzales already have a training camp set up, do ya think it's time to bring back The Black Fist?"

Now Mac was smiling from ear to ear, Aloysius was nearly viabrating with excitement while Alice was left confused,

"I'm sorry," she said, "But what's The Black Fist, in this context anyway?"

Doc's expression suddenly turned sour, "Me, Kid Quick, and Piston ran ruffshot of the WVBA in the sixties. We were a buncha young kids without a care in the world. That wasn't what Quarlow wanted outta his black stars though. He wanted media friendly..."

Alloysius grimaced, "He wanted the Bruiser Brothers," he said with undisguised content.

"Yeah. Bruiser Brothers were constantly played up like the heroes up agains' villains, people like Great Tiger when he was young, Narcius Prince, people like them."

"Shit was as fixed as professional wrestling, and we didn't like that," Aloysius piped in, his voice now up an octave.

"Yeah. We went on some local radio gig, couldn't even tell ya who it was. And we laid it bare. All the greedy shit Quarlow had done, to us and to some others. Old man couldn't fire us fast enough. Quick and I stayed around here, but we ain't seen each other til today. Piston left for Miami to help wit the Cuban community down there. They were done with the ring. Me? I spent every penny I'd ever earned in the ring suing the old man. His slimy ass lawyer said racism towards an Asian wasn't covered by freedom of speech, and that bastard robbed me of every penny in fees," explained Doc, throwing back his O'Douls.

"Hey…uh…what would y'all like?" asked Kid Quick sheepishly.

"Aw hell man, right! You got a job to do! Sirlon with mash potatoes, medium rare."

"BLT, with..fires " Mac said.

"Chicken noodle soup please!" chirped Alice.

"Aight," said Kid Quick, "I'll put in a call to Piston tonight. Y'all just enjoy your night."

Doc nodded as Quick closed the privacy screen. Mac and Doc exchanged glances, smiling ear to ear to ear.

"Hell, didn't think God owed us one, yet here we are," the chocolate loving coach said.

Mac's eyes went wide mid sip of Sprite. Putting his drink down he asked, "You never talked about Black Fist. Why?"

To this, Doc shrugged, "I'd made my peace with it. We were all young and foolish. They coulda backed me up, but I shouldn'ta taken the fight to Quarlow in the court room if they wanted to wash their hands of it. If Piston is on board, we'll be able to work together again, like brothers, and help you knock Tyson out, and shut Quarlow up. Couldn't think of a better last laugh."

"Hey Doc," asked Alice, "Now that all this stuff laid bare, tell us some stories."

And so he did. Long into their meal, he told stories of drunken, drug fueled debauchery that only could've happened in the 60s, along with stories that brought to light some horrors of pre-Civil Rights Movement America, and how the trio had stuck together, sticking to the man whenever they could. When the conversation got light, Alice talked about her improvements to the APE robot that Mac had seen her working on, the highlight of which was Doc muttering "Kids and their gat dern Nintendos," which caused Mac to nearly choke on the Sprite he was drinking from laughter.

Mac loved times like these. As Mac paid the trios tab and they exited the restaurant, he reflected upon it further. These two were his family, and his new family, Piston and Quick, might be estranged, but they would need all the help they could get against Iron Mike.