Love T.K.O.. Pamela Yaye

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      Yasmin glanced at her watch, amazed that a five-minute discussion about respect could last three-quarters of an hour. At the back of the room, away from the group, she wrote a brief outline of the goals, objectives and purpose of the Men of Initiative program. The more teens who joined the program, the more government funding the center would receive.

      Counting the number of teenagers seated in the semicircle, she noticed the intense expression on each young face. Rashawn easily held the attention of his young audience. Not only did the man have a way with women, he appealed to children and teenagers, as well. Affable and laid-back, he had the type of personality people took to immediately. In the cafeteria, kids had crammed onto his bench and more than half of the adults had made their way over to chitchat. Yasmin had sat across from the charismatic boxer, in the hopes of discussing the charity fund-raiser, but every time she opened her mouth, they were interrupted by an adoring fan. Eating dinner with Rashawn had been an eye-opener. Strangers clamored for his attention and made utter fools of themselves just to have ten seconds of his time.

      Yasmin watched him now, sitting in the middle of the circle. His arms dangled between his legs and he had a relaxed, carefree expression on his face. His body language suggested he was open, bare, willing to share himself with the world. And he was.

      Yasmin had learned some shocking truths about Rashawn Bishop, facts that further underlined just how different they were. His father had abandoned the family when he was five, his mother had raised him and his three brothers single-handedly and had struggled to provide food and shelter. But it was the story of his life on the streets that had left her slack-jawed. He’d stolen cars, went joyriding with his crew and had a lengthy rap sheet by the time he was thirteen.

      Tate, one of her favorite kids at the center, lifted his hand and waited for the discussion to die down before he spoke. “Did you ever sling rock?”

      Rashawn locked eyes with Yasmin. He couldn’t read the expression on her face. Trepidation fell upon him. Was she regretting her decision to let him lead the session? Or disappointed about what she had learned about him? This was not how she was supposed to find out about his past, but he couldn’t let this opportunity to share with these teenagers pass him by. If Yasmin couldn’t appreciate the fact that he’d changed his life and made something of himself, then she wasn’t the right woman for him anyway. “I didn’t sell dope, but I used to run errands for the local drug dealer. I’m not proud of it, but I did what I had to do to survive. I was the oldest and had to help my mom take care of my brothers. Everyone else was doing it and I wanted to fit in with my crew. They were my family.”

      Nods and murmurs of assent filled the room.

      “In tenth grade I discovered boxing and that changed my life for the better. Boxing was my ticket out of the ’hood and I took advantage of all the opportunities afforded to me.”

      “But what if you ain’t got no talent?” asked an unsmiling kid with buck teeth. “What if all you know how to do is jack cars and beat down punks for what they got?”

      “I don’t believe that, Chaz. Everyone’s good at something.”

      The boy shook his head. “Not me. I hate school, I suck at sports and I don’t get along with my step-dad.”

      “Ever tried boxing, martial arts or wrestling?”

      “Naw, that’s not my thing.”

      “How do you know unless you try? You look strong, you could probably be one hell of a wrestler. “

      He shrugged a shoulder. “I ain’t got money for shit like that.”

      “Chaz, you can come by the Boxing Institute of Champions and work out with me whenever you want.” Standing, Rashawn said, “Anyone else want to get in shape, look good and impress СКАЧАТЬ