Broker

After the graduation ceremony, Mela felt a warmth swell in her chest as she continued to converse with her son, Tyson. He was becoming a man before her eyes, and the journey that brought them here was nothing short of a testament to her grit and determination.

As they stood under the fading sunlight—slanting golden rays that cast long shadows on the pavement—Mela shared the news: May had found a steady job as a cashier at the local supermarket. It was a simple position, but in a world where each bill counted, it was a lifeline. Not only that, but May had also moved in with her boyfriend, Eddie, and together they were carving out a new life. Eddie worked as an inspector at a washing machine factory, a job he took pride in, and though it wasn't glamorous, it meant stability for the pair.

"Mike, you've truly grown up. You're doing so well now, and I couldn't be more relieved," Mela said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "You know, after you were born, I was told by someone that you were a low-energy child. I didn't take that lightly. I defended you fiercely! Our family suffered so much; we had to pick up and move to a place that was rough around the edges. I worried when you fell into the wrong crowd, doing things that scared the life out of me. I kept praying you wouldn't end up like your brother. But my hands were tied—I was busy keeping us afloat. I couldn't monitor every step you took, and it terrified me to think of the police knocking at our door because of you. Yet, somehow, you found your way. You ended up in that reform center, which turned out to be a blessing. You learned boxing there, didn't you? You found something you loved."

"Mike, can you call Kus?" May's voice pulled Tyson back to the present moment.

"Sure, I can do that," he replied, and quickly set about finding Kus and Carmel.

As Mela glanced at May, she noticed her daughter's red-and-puffy eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks like tiny rivers.

"Kus, Carmel, I just want to thank you for treating Mike like family. You've given him a sense of belonging that he never had before," May began, her voice thick. "Today, on his graduation, I wish I could've told you how miraculous this day feels. I had never imagined Mike would make it here. In his early years, I wondered if he would see the dawn of another day. Now? Here he stands, and he has made something of himself due to you. You cared for him like a son, and I will always be grateful for that."

May's tears fell with each heartfelt word. Carmel stepped closer to comfort her, her gentle hand resting on May's shoulder.

Eventually, May collected herself and continued, "I have stumbled as a mother. I didn't safeguard him properly. I didn't offer him the love and consideration he deserved until now. So, on this momentous day, I want to offer you something."

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a document, the heft of it seeming to carry the weight of her intentions.

"It's a change of guardian," she said cautiously. "I want to give you custodianship of Tyson. I've failed in my duties as a mother, and I think he deserves someone who can truly guide him."

It was a heavy offer, but Tyson was already past the age of needing a guardian. Kus saw the document but refused to take it.

"May, Tyson is an adult—he doesn't need another guardian. This change means nothing. It will not define who he is or how he feels about you or me. In his heart, he is already family; you don't need a piece of paper to claim that. Just throw it away."

Tyson couldn't help but chuckle at Kus's philosophical prowess; the man was a sage in boxing and life.

With a swift motion, Tyson took the paper from May's trembling hands and tore it apart, letting the pieces flutter into the nearest trash can. "Today is about celebrating, not dwelling on the past. Let's be proud, Mom. I've earned this!"

### Chapter Two: Chest of Dreams

The ride back home felt different. The weight of the document had lifted like fog rolling off the morning grass, and for the first time in a long while, the air felt light, filled with possibility.

"Mike, are you really not going to college?" Kus inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not! College isn't for me. I don't need it. I don't crave any of that. What I want right now is to dive into the world of professional boxing—just like we planned. This is my moment, Kus. It's time to show the world what I can do."

Kus studied Tyson for a moment, his expression serious yet contemplative. "If it's meant to be, we can always send in an application for an extension of study later. If the time arises, you can take college classes—it won't hinder your career. It'll only empower you."

It was sound advice, and Tyson took a moment to ponder it. Even Camille nodded in agreement, her smile softening the edges of her encouragement.

"Alright," Tyson responded, his voice steady. "Let's get that sorted out."

Within a couple of days, the paperwork was all squared away. In the quiet moments of their home, Tyson and Kus shared ambitions and dreams that layered the air with electric excitement.

"Mike, I envision you with a physique like Mike Weaver or Ken Norton. Can you imagine? You'd take even the toughest opponents off guard! You'd walk into that ring like a titan!"

"I have become the 'Beast,' Kus. I don't need the height of the world's greatest. The mention of my name alone sends blood racing through their veins! This fear? It's my ally," Tyson boasted with a glimmer in his eye.

Kus reclined back into a chair, his hands locked and confidence swelling around him. "To break into professional boxing, we must strategize—marketing, arranging sponsorship. We'll need funds to promote you, and then there's building a team of our own around you. Mike Tyson, are you ready for this leap?"

The gravity of Kus's words settled in Tyson's chest, and with a resolute nod, he affirmed, "I've been waiting for this day. I'm ready."

With that, Kus was on the phone, reaching out to potential sponsors and partners, a twinkle of promise dancing in his eyes.

It didn't take long for him to put the phone down, excitement etched into the lines around his mouth. "They're coming to see you tomorrow."

Tyson smiled, acknowledging that he could hardly sleep; anticipation consumed him. He found himself jogging along the Hudson River at dawn the next day, five kilometers under the pastel blues of the morning sky before readying himself for the day ahead.

At nine o'clock, a sleek Cadillac rolled into Kus's driveway, the engine purring like a contented cat. Two figures emerged—one, a spirited man in his mid-thirties, sporting a shock of short blond hair, his eyes glimmering with good humor. The other was a reserved gentleman in his forties, the beginnings of a receding hairline failing to dim his sharp features and even sharper intellect.

"Kus," the cheerful blond called, waving a hand and grinning broadly. "You must be Mike Tyson!"

Kus made introductions, gesturing to his guests. "This is Jimmy Jacobs," he said, pointing to the younger man. "And that's Bill Caton."

They had watched Tyson's boxing videos, and their eagerness electrified the air. This was the moment that could alter the trajectory of Tyson's life.

Jimmy grinned widely, "You won't believe how thrilled I am. I received a call from Mr. Kus last night, and I've gotta say—I didn't expect such a golden opportunity to land on my lap! I've heard nothing but amazing things about you, and I'm excited about what we can do together."