THE MERCEDES is stopped at a light across from the Wynn Country Club when Tom’s cell rings. It’s the first phone activity in the car since Tom, on Floyd’s order, cut off gym access to the three workers. In those few minutes, Floyd’s demeanor has gone from vocal agitation to quiet anger. The call returns everything to high alert.
“They found the ticket, P,” Tom calls toward the front.
“Where was it?” Floyd asks.
Tom hesitates. He closes the phone and places it in his lap.
Should he say it?
A moment passes.
Floyd asks again.
Oh, what the hell.
“It was in the sweatpants, P.”
Tom looks absently out the window. Fifty sneaks a glance to his left, a little smile on his face. The mood shifts. What now? The threat of a rat, or rats, has lifted. Three men are exonerated by a search of a pants pocket. At least one part of the champ’s life has retained its order. Control is restored.
A Hayes song drifts through the cabin of the Benz.
What now? They await his reaction.
Mayweather gives a satisfied nod but otherwise doesn’t respond.
Their restaurant of choice tonight is a Japanese place the fighter frequents with his crew. Inside, the mood lightens. Floyd’s buoyancy returns. He addresses the group by telling his first-time visitors that he drops 10 grand a week in the place. “You order whatever you want,” he says. “Everything’s on me.”
As the waitstaff scrambles to seat the party of 18 around two teppanyaki tables, Mayweather discovers that his favorite chef is not working. This won’t do. He calls the waiter over and speaks to him briefly. The waiter nods vigorously and pulls out his phone. Within 15 minutes, Mayweather’s favorite chef is standing before him, smiling and bowing as he sharpens his knives and heats up the grill. The champ, it’s safe to assume, is a good tipper.
Before the food is served, though, Five-Three and Vito arrive at the restaurant. They find their boss, leave a bag — not The Bag, but a bag nonetheless — next to his chair and depart quickly. Mayweather opens the bag and places the contents on the table: $80,000 in hundreds.
Mayweather smiles and nods. The slip was found, the money delivered. His friends surround him, honored to be in his presence. Kip the bodyguard patrols the parking lot outside the restaurant. The stack sits in front of Mayweather, another victory, its precision and order glorious in its symbolism. He looks down at it, pleased.
Love him or hate him, he is the champ, still undefeated.
Article First Appeared @ http://espn.go.com/boxing/story/_/id/7878576/boxer-floyd-mayweather-sports-biggest-financial-control-freak-espn-magazine
This Article Appeared in The Black Truth News Volume 3 Issue 10 September 2012