The Boxer's Dream

A strained voice is heard through pounding rain, our narrator for this tale you could say, a biographical account of events.

“Have you ever had one of those new years parties where you end up throwing up in a gutter? Have you ever been to a party and seen people openly using drugs. Dropping an E here, snorting up some precious powder there, well that’s where my tale begins. A mixture of the two as I lay here in a drug filled haze in the gutter, who would have imagined that five days ago my life was so much different, things where looking fantastic. However this is how the James Hurst story ends, lying here half dead in a gutter.”

The sun screams out aloud for a new day in Horseford as a bright young woman flashes open the curtains of a countryside mansions bedroom. James who is lying in a king sized bed sleepily lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the new day as his croaky voice calls out to the woman.

“For pitty’s sake Mrs Hurst close the curtains”

Mrs Hurst lets out a snorted laugh, she puts her hand to her mouth which is sporting a beautiful wedding ring, 3 months wages it cost, not any old wages either, James Hurst was a professional boxer. He was quite good at it too, from 13 years old he had trained to be the best and his record screamed that he was the best. In 29 matches he had knocked out every single one of his opponents way before the bell, James “The Pretty Boy” Hurst was the handle, simply because the media had picked up on the way he could dissmember his opponents without them laying a finger on him.

“We’re not quite there James dear.” quipped the young lady.

“We’re practically there though, or you having second thoughts?”

James waited for a response which didn’t come, as much as he knew that his fiancee like to tease he still couldn’t help but worry slightly when no response came.

“Carly!!”

Carly laughs as she wanders over to the bed and perches herself next to James, she kisses him softly on the forehead as she looks into his deep blue eyes.

“There’s nothing in this world I’d rather do than become Mrs ‘Pretty Boy’” Her voice is soft, tender, filled with love and excitement. However James shoots out of bed, his perfectly toned body grabs Carly around the waist and he tosses her on the bed.

“You know I hate that name!!” Carly’s the giggly sort and she begins laughing at her own joke. She snatches a nearby pillow and smacks James across the head before slipping out of his clutches and running downstairs as her voice trails off with the words.

“Breakfast is ready.”

The private joke is heard again as she tags the name ‘Pretty Boy’ on the end of her sentence. It’s the perfect family, they’ve got it all, lots of money, happiness and most of all the love that seem’s to have never left the blessed “Honeymoon” period. That’s the term Carly gave their relationship, apparently it’s when you first get together with someone and you laugh every time at each others jokes. You go out of your way just to spend precious seconds with one another. You never argue ever and if you do its in a playful passion, it’s the stage which most couples leave after three or four months.

However this perfect set up isn’t as perfect as it seem’s, with fame comes pressure, with pressure comes wrong choices, with wrong choices comes anarchy. James’ life was anarchic in every sense of the world, he had a problem, he was addicted to cocaine. Carly knew, in her own little way she knew, the media had gotten wind just last week. The red sheet’s blasted it all over they’re front pages, with very ’witty’ headline’s such as K-Oke. James and Carly vowed never to listen to any scandal in the media, as they both knew they loved a scandal. However this one hit home with Carly, it wouldn’t go away, story’s of after match party’s all over the news, reporter’s outside the house. No this scandal wasn’t going to go away.

Carly was a woman of her word however and the entire escapade had never been uttered from her beautiful ruby red lips. Maybe that’s why couples do go out of the ‘honeymoon period’ they are not so trusting, perhaps that’s why James and Carly should have left the ‘honeymoon period’. The problem was simple, in trusting James, Carly had set off a chain of event’s that could not be stopped. A horrible web of lies had been spun one day when James brought home a golden chain which had a cross hanging proudly from it. James pointed to his love of God and told the media how his religious belief’s needed to be close to him at all times. The chain had become somewhat of a trademark of ‘the pretty boy’. Little did the scandal sheets nor Carly know, that James was such an athiest he used the very name of the Lord to hide his biggest secret.

“I’ll be down in a minute hun, I’m just going for a shower.” James bellowed down the stair’s, a faint ok was heard echoed back up to him but they where empty words as James had already rushed into his on suit bathroom. He wasn’t going to have a shower, no the shower was just another thread in the web of lies that spewed out from James mouth.

The bathroom was beautiful, the marble bath was the centerpeice, your eyes automatically drawn to it as soon as you opened to oak door. The golden coloured railing’s glittered in the light which shone from the stained glass window next to the bath. The view was fantastic, you could see for miles, Horseford was a beautiful little village in the countryside, the top of the window stained with two boxing gloves specially made for the pretty boy who at 23 had been a professional for 5 years and was already world heavyweight champion. The bath wasn’t the only beautiful thing in the bathroom however, the most beautiful thing in the world to James Hurst was the wooden storage cupboard. As he jogged over to the cupboard he turned the white door’s handle and he flung it open, he had no time to waste.

Three tiny shelves where attached to the door of the cupboard, this was James’ favourite part, one specific shelf the perfect height. He fumbled around the lock which held his chain to his wrist and it came off. His eye’s bulged like a greedy child as he quickly unscrewed a secret compartment in the cross which was dangling from the silver chain. What he pulled out of religious symbol was a transparent bag containing a gram of cocaine. His hands shook as he poured the powder on the middle shelf and started making five separate line’s out with a nearby comb. His face beamed as he looked upon his handy work, five neat straight line’s all ripe for the taking, the smile soon fell from his face however when he realised he had no wallet on him. No wallet mean’s no notes, no notes means no means to snort and no means to snort means no way of getting your fix.

He quickly goes back into his bedroom and start’s throwing things around his room looking desperately for his wallet, he finds it under a pile of dirty clothes from the night before, even millionaires are untidy. As he begin’s to walk triumphantly back to his work of art disaster strike’s, footsteps.

“Jimmy”

Carly call’s out for James, it’s a code red if there ever was one, ’The Pretty Boy’ however was a professional and a professional is always prepared. He jumps into action quickly turning on the tap of the sink and dunking his head under the water, he quickly but carefully close’s the cupboard and grabs a towel from a silver towel rack.

“Oi, pretty boy!” the impatient tone of Carly call’s out from James as she bursts in to the bedroom to see a wet haired James with a towel around his waist.

“Yes my love?” James use’s the typical male dog house voice, he know’s he’s in trouble but he don’t know what he’s done.

“Don’t my love me! I said breakfast was ready twenty minute’s ago and now it’s cold.” Before James has time to respond Carly carry’s on with her attack.
“And I know you where happy you won last night, but when you told me that I could go home and you wouldn’t be long, I forgave you for being three hours late. You where excited, what I’m not happy about though is the mess you’ve made downstairs! It’s a disgrace, I wouldn’t mind but you never lift a finger in this house.” Carly finishes her rant and looks up at James.

This is as far as you can go to saying they have arguments, little bicker’s here and there which are over within seconds when Jimmy gives in, as he always does. He may be the most formidable thing inside the ring, but inside the house there’s only one person who get’s the knock outs.

“Sorry but you know I would have cleaned it this morning!”

“James Daniel Hurst lies make baby Jesus cry!”

“I swear on my life, I was just going to have a shower, come straight down, eat a scrumptious breakfast and clean up whatever mess I left. Look, how could you be mad at a face like this?”

James was right, his face was great, its why he had got so much tabloid attention. Not always the media’s favourite sport James photogenic face and talent had made it gain a little spotlight. His deep brown short hair was always stylish, he wasn’t quite a trend setter but he was always one step ahead of the world when it came to keeping up with trends. So his latest cool hairstyle went well with his clean shaven face, every now and then he would grow the latest fashioned facial hair however it soon went as Carly said it was like kissing a brush. The piest de risistance however were his eyes, deep sea blue they could catch the attention of any woman sat anywhere in the room, James really did have it all.

“Oh come here you big lug.” Grabbing his face Carly smiles and kisses Jimmy firmly on the lips. That was something that most the girls in the world would love to do, however she was far from the lucky one. A supermodel herself he sandy blonde hair was naturally straight, bitch, her perfect teeth glowed whenever she smiled. She was naturally thin, however she wasn’t a size zero, James didn’t find that attractive and Carly had no wish to do that either. She was just graced with perhaps the best metabolism in the world, no matter what she ate and when she ate it, she would not put weight on. That didn’t stop the TV showing a show which said that Carly was a horrific role model for kids, its ironic really, Carly was naturally perfect in every way yet her career has been dogged from the start with claims of her having fake breasts, using damaging sunbeds and having an eating disorder. Yet ‘The Pretty Boy’ who despite harming himself with drugs was still beloved by everyone, even the papers who run damning headlines cant shake his straight edge image.

It was the perfect legs that won Jimmy’s heart however as he stroked the smooth brown legs most men would be thinking of one thing and one thing only. Jimmy however had his mind elsewhere, he needed to get Carly out of the room to finish up his business. As he playfully spanked her backside she squeezed his back, he grinned as he spoke.

“I’ll tell you what, you go wait downstairs, I’ll finish up getting ready and we’ll see if we can *ahem* clean up” Jimmy’s fake cough didn’t hide the smut that spewed forth from his mouth, but Carly loved it as she smiled and ran downstairs smiling.

Finally, thought James, peace, I can wake up properly. There’s nothing better than the morning line, unless it’s the just had something to eat line, oh then there’s the preparing to go out line! And how can I forget the bedtime line, who am I kidding, cocaine is great at all times!

Jimmy stops thinking as he lets the white powder rush up through a twenty pound note and hit his brain. The effect isn’t instant but he knows its there as he feels it drop. He smirks to himself as he walks over to the sink, he looks directly in to the mirror and points into it like a cheesy game show host would.

“You’re the man”

The only difference is I don’t think Dale Winton would shove half a gram of coke up his nostril’s before he does that. I think Anne Robinson would disagree with his statement that “He’s the man”. All in all, James Hurst has it all but he’s trying his best to throw it all away.

As the vain boxing star walks downstairs he is genuinely shocked at what he see’s.

“Fuck me its like the blitz!”

A voice call’s from another room, “I told you so!” the smugness of the comment is not intentional but its there for all to see as Jimmy surveys the damage. Empty larger cans litter the floor, a half drunk bottle of Jack sits proudly on the table defiant to the last that no one is going to drink it, more of Jimmy’s clothes are on the floor in random place’s and to top it off, a few pizza boxes are strewn across the floor with half eaten pizza stained on the cream carpet. Carly’s cream carpet.

“Nevermind that for now, come in here champ” James isn’t prepared for what he see’s next, in fact his entire love life flashes before his eyes. He remembers being a child in Bolton playing kissy catch in his primary school, he remembers going to secondary school getting his mate’s to ask girl’s to kiss him and he remembers this, he’ll never forget this. What do you do when a supermodel is sat legs crossed on a kitchen table in nothing but some revealing French knickers and a matching black bra. Her lipstick covered lips pouting and her finger calling him closer.

There’s not a man alive who can turn that down, your coked up and a supermodel wants to sleep with you, Jimmy muse’s.

The voice that was heard at the beginning of the story speaks again, the rain is still pounding as we can hear it in the background, where is he? The eerie silence in-between words is broken by that thumping of the rain, it sounds like its hitting puddle’s as the splashes rain down faster.

“I won’t bore you with detail’s of me getting lucky but let me tell you this, getting shagged whilst your on drugs is the best feeling in the world.”

James laughs as he continues to talk, a small cough is let out by the man.

“Thing is though, I didn’t appreciate her, oh man she was wasted on a loser like me. Yes I had money, yes I had fame and I do have a look or two, yet am I telling you this story on ‘This is Your Life’? Reminiscing about times past? No I’m sat here in this fucking gutter as puddle’s form around my motionless feet telling you where I went wrong?”

Telling you? Is someone else there with James, who is stood watching this sorry sight as another human being suffer’s in a gutter?

“I was thinking” Carly button’s up a black shirt as she speaks to James.
“Maybe we could have a quick chat about the wedding.”

“Oh Carls we’ve been through this hundreds of times darling, we can’t go changing things now its all set in stone, we’re only what? Five days away from the wedding?”

“Don’t you want us to have the perfect day though?” Carly snapped back with the speed and precision of one of Jimmy’s right jab’s.

“Of course I do, I love you, it’s just, we’ve been through this hundreds of times already and I’m a bit hung over.”

Hung over, drugged up, all the same really James thought.

“Well I hope that’s not the attitude you take on the day!” Delivered like staggering right hook.

“Of course not darling, I said I love you more than anything and our wedding day will be one of the most important days of my life.” He’s on the ropes alright.

“ONE OF! It best be THE most important day of your life!” KO ring the bell, no recovery from that.

“I’ll get the brochures should I?”

Carly simply nods her head at James as he toddle’s off to the study and picks up a large wad of magazines. Smiling models pretending to be happily married look back at James as he picks them up, he mutter’s under his breath to the man in the picture.

“Oh your smiling now, I bet she made you her bitch for the six month’s leading up to your wedding, lets get this James, whats your opinion on that James. I’m a man! I have no opinion on anything a woman ask’s me, its scientific fact!”

“I hear murmuring!” Carly shouts over to the study.

Jimmy looks down at the magazine and is about to blame the man in the picture but before he does he is almost certain he see’s the picture shake his head at him. He’s going insane!

“Here we go darling, which one should we look at first?”

“What do you think?”

No! Jimmy screams in his head, she didn’t just ask that did she? Lets try the first male response, see if that gets us anywhere.

“Well, I think that, erm, s’up to you innit.”

That was poor at best and Carly laughs to herself but takes the hint. She’s smart enough though to just push him in the right direction, not give him the answer. She likes this game, a game every couple play everyday without even realising it. She however, is very aware and is very good at it, manipulation is a very useful tool in the world of modelling.

“No come on, whats your opinion on say, erm, flowers for example.” The bait was set, even the stupidest of homo sapiens could pick up on the fact she wasn’t happy with the flower’s Carly thought.

She definitely doesn’t want to talk about the flowers then does she, or else she wouldn’t have mentioned them, its reverse psychology. Or did she know I would think that and its reverse-reverse psychology, oh no she’s getting impatient, I better answer her quickly.

“I…don’t…” James gauge’s Carly’s expression as he talks. “think that theres…a…specific…erm…problem with the er…”

“Oh for crying out loud I hate the damn flowers!” There’s the stupidest homosapiens and then there’s James Hurst.

“Well I was just about to say that!” The greatest weapon at a man’s disposal, wait for the woman to get annoyed and then say you where about to say it, works every time!

I can’t believe he just tried that, it didn’t work when Julius Caesar said it to his wife so why should it work now in this day and age! May as well give this to him, he’s set himself up for it.

“What don’t you like about them?”

“Bugger” James speaks out aloud.

“What?” Carly responds confused.

“Oh shit, I didn’t just say that out aloud did I?”

Carly chuckles to herself. “You most certainly did.” She folds her arms and sits back waiting for him to try and talk his way out of this one. “Why might I ask did you say it out aloud?”

“Ok you got me, I don’t actually have an opinion on the Flowers, or the food, or what font we use on the damn name cards and invites. All I care about is you saying I do at the end of the day, so long as you say that and your happy that’s all that matters.” That’s the most honest thing James has said during this entire convorsation as he braces himself for the backlash.

“Aww that’s the sweetest thing ever, I just panic, I mean we’re going to be compared to all the other major wedding’s aren’t we and we’re going to be under massive scrutiny. All I wanted was to get married to you and have our friends and family there but no, my PR say’s that this could be image threatening and its turning in to a nightmare. I don’t care if we don’t have Posh and Beck’s throne, why must we always try and out do each other?!” Carly works herself up into a frenzy before taking a deep breath.

“Do you love me Carly?”

“With all my heart, you know I do Jim”

“Then you trust me right?”

“Of course I trust you, Jim what are you…”

James cuts across Carly mid sentence. “Right well listen to me when I say, your image can go to hell, we could retire and live a life of luxury right now if we wanted. We don’t need any money, you can retire and we can have children. At the end of the day whats more important, your image or the perfect wedding?”

Carly hugs James and sobs on his shoulder, “Thank you” is whispered in James’ ear as he pats her on the shoulder.

“Come on hun, you’ve got a few phone calls to make I’m guessing and I’m going to go for a bit of a run, get a few hours training in, you know get out of your hair whilst you make this day your own.”

“Theres only a few things I want to change you know, you don’t have to be gone for hours! I miss you so much when you go training, do you have to drive so far away?” Carly pleads for James to not leave her alone but those words fall upon deaf ear’s. James simply has to drive away to avoid the army of journalists that permanently park themselves outside the gates to his house.

“You know why I have to do it dear. Call Jayne, get her around and you can share idea’s.”

The idea of James calling Jayne Simmonds by her first name is quite funny, but that’s the life of a superstar for you. Jayne Simmonds the lead singer of rock band The Flaming Lover’s is one of the highest paid singers on the planet, rivalling Madonna in the battle for Queen on the music industry. He grabs a nearby bag and slings it over his shoulder, “The Pretty Boy” is embodied on the side of the bag, his sponsors like giving him free personalised things, what’s free for James Hurst is definitely free advertising for Nike.

“Wish me luck then hun, I’m about to run the gauntlet.” James smirks as he says this, you would be forgiven in thinking that the gauntlet is his name for the training session he is about to embark on, when in actual fact this is another one of Carl’s and Jim’s private joke’s. The Gauntlet is what they must run every time they go outside and face the paparazzi, the second they step outside the house they stop being Carly Anderson and James Hurst, they become James “The Pretty Boy” Hurst and his Supermodel girlfriend Mrs Anderson.

“Good luck, love you.” Carly blows a kiss as James steps outside his front door, his shades give him a superstar look as he walks over to his car. He presses a button, the car beeps and the engine roars, he has to have a superstar motor. As he drives to his gates he slides down his window and presses a 4 digit code to open his gate, the gauntlet begins, paparazzi begin snapping photo’s at a great rate hoping to sell them to trash magazines who will claim he is overweight or looks tired. Maybe they’ll hit the jackpot and see something up his nose. Today was worse than ever, the tabloids had really upped the ante with the K-Oke headline, reporters littered his road, he even saw a BBC van, there was no way he was escaping this as people flooded to his car.

“Mr Hurst, Gordon Davis BBC 1 news team are the reports of drug and steroid abuse true?”

A simple no would do, a no comment to get them talking, why should he care though? Whatever he says it will be twisted in whatever direction they want it to be twisted. He slowly edge’s his car forward as he keeps his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him, out of the corner of his eye he is amused by the battle which is going on with the journalists as he hears another voice.

“Mr Hurst, Mr Hurst, can I get a quick word for America about the allegations of drug abu-”

The voices all blur into one big noise as James slowly begins to pull away from the crowd and then finally speeds away. He quickly grabs his mobile, bollocks to the fine I’m a millionaire, he scrolls down the list of contacts going past Amir Kahn, Ricky Hatton and gets to ’security’. He presses call as he puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Dave? Yeh its me Jimmy, do me a favour? Yeah exactly mate, clearout, not a usual one though pal, lots of them, going to take a big team. Oh another thing, can someone tail me for a bit make sure I don’t get any fucking Journo’s following me, I want a bit of peace whilst I train. Cheers, in fact Dave….yeah I’d like you to tail me, I need to know I’ve got privacy. Hahaha, no mate he’s nothing special I just wanna make sure I’m prepared, you know how it is.” Jimmy slams the phone shut as he carry’s on to his perfect training spot.