Welcome to Gaia! ::

If masculinity had a concentrated smell, it would be identical to the inside of Dos Santos Gym. Walking in, one would be hit with a wall of musk a sweat, some salt, some corn chip, with an underlying fragrance of Lysol and an aisle's-worth of other disinfectants. It was a nice place if not worn from foot-traffic, vaulting stone walls painted a thick yolk-y yellow. Gloria always loved walking in first thing in the morning, feeling the strap of her gym bag burning into her shoulder and being assaulted not only with the scent of machismo, but the thudding sounds of fists meeting bags, flesh meeting mat. She always got a thrill from walking past the trophies lining the halls – for boxing, wrestling, weight-lifting. Three generations, she would always think with an inhalation – like a prayer – I'm a part of three generations.

And then she'd stub her toe on a rolling medicine ball and turn the air blue around the b*****d who had let it go.

There was no medicine ball this morning, thank God. The last thing Gloria needed was to face-plant; that would really put the ribbon on the fabulously lackluster start of her day.

Neftali paced the off-center ring, hands planted on his narrow hips. It wasn't the worn-out gait of a tired fighter, trying to regain his second wind while pacing the floor, but more like the tense stalk she had grown so accustom to seeing when he was too stressed out to form words. Gloria shucked her bag and it rolled underneath the skirt of the ring. She pulled herself up easily, leaned against the padded turnbuckles.

“What's eating you, Gilbert Grape?”

Neftali turned with a start of surprise, shook it off with a roll of his shoulders as he peeled his gloves off. He was chewing on his mouthpiece again; she hated it when he did that. He spit the blue rubber into his palm.

“Nothing. What are you doing here? Ring's ours today, Nacho Libre,” he said, walking back to his corner. Gloria ducked into the ring, unconvinced.

“Papi told me to come in today to help with training. I don't even know,” she said, trailing after him. Neftali was kneeling at his bag when she came to a stop behind him, and she toed him in the a**. He swatted her hand away. “What's up?”

“Nothing really. I haven't even gotten a round yet.” He put the mouthpiece away and wiped his hands on his shorts. Gloria jammed her hands in the pockets of her hoodie; the front proclaimed DOS SANTOS GYM sitting on a dumbell.

“Yeah? That's weird. Where's Angelo?” Her brows furrowed, lips stretching into a line. She leaned against the ropes and bounced against them, watching Neftali twist and sit in lotus position against the turnbuckle. He ran his hand back against the fuzz of his hair, ending at the twists and twisting them between his fingers like knobs. Uh oh. She fell to sit on the middle rope. “What is it?” she pressed.

She had known Baez long enough to be able to tell when he was uneasy, though he'd never admit to it himself. Gloria found herself reaching over to tug at one of those frizzy twists. When he didn't protest, she knew something was up.

“I mean, that's it. Angelo didn't come in today.”

Gloria didn't even have time to question him when the door to her father's office opened with a bang. Even the younger guys busting their asses on the punching bags and warm-ups paused to look up. Her father was not a small man by any means, still wide and heavy from his days as a wrestler. He waved a thick hand at them, composed himself, and crossed the gym; the sound resumed. Gloria smiled at him, standing to greet him with a kiss on the cheek and a 'bendicion' when he hopped onto the ring and eased himself in.

He looked uneasy, busy passing that calloused hand of his over his cropped hair; once, twice... Gloria made a face.

“Angelo's not coming in today. I just got off the phone with his mom. He's in the hospital,” he finally said, sighing. Neftali was on his feet in an instant.

“What?”

Papi held his hands up as if trying to placate a startled animal. Gloria looked briefly at Neftali – close enough.

“Nothing serious, just a sprained wrist. I don't think he's concussed. He'll be all right. They'll probably release him in a couple of hours.”

While noting the tightness in her father's voice, her realization dawned quicker, “Wait, then who's competing for the middle-weights?”

Her father's jaw set. From the corner of her eye she could see Neftali looking between her and her father, borderline frantic.

He passed his long hands over his face, “What the ******** happened?”

Papi scratched the back of his head hard, crossing the ring to pick up the towel and gloves he'd laid out for Angelo, “One of those attacks, his mom said. Turned on the radio – traffic is backed up where it happened real bad.”

Gloria groaned and turned away from them to kick the turnbuckle. Like this morning wasn't getting any better. Neftali's hands dropped to his sides, wishing for pockets that weren't there.

“This is so ********' ridiculous,” he muttered, turning away from Gloria's dad to grip the top rope. Gloria didn't offer any consolation, if only her presence. She was – if a bit guiltily – glad Oscar's was in the other direction from where Angelo lived. Mami would be all right; this probably meant more work for her. Still, seeing Neftali so frustrated and her father so resigned – God, she had just gone on a run with Angelo two days ago, sparred with him yesterday. Now he couldn't even box?

Her father slipped underneath the ropes and hopped down. He was petting his head again, breath caught in his barrel chest.

“Gloria, get some gloves on. Warm up with Neftali, I'm gonna go call George's dad to see about some crash-course training,” he said, turning back to the office. Gloria nodded and slipped out after him to grab her gear. She was knocking back her mouthpiece when she climbed back into the ring, eyes distant. Neftali adjusted the straps on his wrists, chewed on the end of his own mouthpiece as he jumped from foot to foot.

“I'm not going to go easy.” It was a declaration, not a warning.

Gloria nodded, rolling her shoulders, “I know.”

Neftali and Gloria stored away their uncertainties and laid into one another. The safety of Destiny City was a faraway dome vaulting high above them.