Suficiente.
Thinking in Spanish in that moment.
Enough, he told himself.
Enough.
When Gorton stepped in to throw a second punch, Daniel stepped slightly to the side and set himself and threw a punch of his own, hitting him in the middle of his face with a straight right hand, heard the crack of Gorton’s nose and felt it at the same time as Gorton went down.
Daniel watched now as Gorton got himself to a sitting position, put his hand to his face, pulled it away, stared at the blood on his hand, then looked down and saw the splash of blood on his white dress shirt.
“You broke my nose!” he screamed.
His voice had risen a couple of octaves.
“Yes,” Daniel said. “I did.”
Gorton sat there, seeming to be in no hurry to stand up. Or come at Daniel again.
“Do you realize who you just hit?” Gorton screamed, at an even higher pitch than before, even more volume, the blood still streaming from his nose, down across his chin and back onto the shirt.
Daniel leaned forward and looked Gorton in the face. Gorton recoiled, as if Daniel were about to hit him again.
“Yes,” he said. “I realize exactly who I just hit.”
He turned and walked away.
Daniel was nearly to the parking lot when Becky, out of breath, caught up with him.
“What happened back there?” she said.
“I finally had enough,” Daniel said.
ONE HUNDRED SIX
DANIEL WAS ARRESTED after Gorton called the police, charged with assault, taken to the county jail in West Palm Beach. There was no way for him to get a court appearance until Monday morning. It meant he would spend the weekend in jail.
If Daniel were an American citizen we could have gotten him released on his own recognizance over a bullshit charge like this, for a fight he didn’t start. But he wasn’t a citizen.
Early the next afternoon, Grandmother and Mom and Gus and I gathered in our living room to figure out our next move. Grandmother’s lawyer, Paul Gellis, had gone to see Daniel, first thing in the morning, but said he really couldn’t do anything until Daniel’s arraignment. He also relayed a message from Daniel that he didn’t want any of us to visit him at the jail.
Grandmother had put me on the phone with Mr. Gellis. I asked how much trouble Daniel might be in with the government now that he’d been arrested.
“He’s DACA,” Paul Gellis said. “So unless he’s got priors he’s not telling me about, this shouldn’t affect his status. He should be fine.”
“This whole thing is totally bogus,” I said.
“Steve Gorton doesn’t think so,” Gellis said. “And not gonna lie: his lawyers are bigger than your lawyer.”
We had already decided that Gus would train both Mom and me tomorrow at the Mercedes. None of us much wanted to talk about riding right now. But they weren’t going to cancel the event just because Mom’s trainer was locked up.
When I’d gotten home, I’d called the office of Mr. Connors, Daniel’s immigration lawyer, gotten his out-of-office. I left one message, then another, told him it was about Daniel Ortega, and it was important. Hadn’t heard back yet. But it was a Saturday.
“I’m starting to get that you should never break a rich guy’s nose on a weekend,” I said.
“Never break a rich guy’s nose ever,” Gus said. “Even though this guy has been begging for a good smack since you all went into business with him.”
“Or his whole life,” Mom said. She closed her eyes, shook her head. “Of all the owners in all the world…”
“Forget about the government,” Gus said. “Just wait. It’s Gorton who’s gonna try to make a federal case of this now that the picture of him holding that bloody handkerchief to his nose has gone viral.”
People had heard him screaming out curses and had come running down from the tent, snapping away with their cell phones when they saw Gorton’s face and shirt full of blood.
“Is he too thick to understand that by pressing charges and taking Daniel away from Maggie he’s only hurting himself in the end?” Grandmother said.
“Sure he does,” Gus said. “He just doesn’t care. He’s not gonna let somebody pop him and get away with it.”
“He’s the one always talking about doing anything to win,” Mom said.
“The only thing he cares about more is not looking bad,” Gus said. “Or getting laughed at.”
Gus looked at Mom.
“You ready to do a little work in the ring?” he said.