wall.”
Big Jim looked about at his entourage. He grinned. They grinned. Red couldn’t decide if he ought to shit or go blind.
Big Jim settled his gaze on Leonard, said, “You want to take Wilber instead?”
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “I’ve just traveled from here to Mexico, fought it out with a bunch of would-be bad-asses, eaten badly, slept badly, crashed in a plane on my way back, so I ought to be tuckered just enough to make it a little more of a contest for fat boy here.”
Wilber steamed.
Big Jim chuckled. “Hey, you’re on.”
“What for?” Leonard said. “Just to get shot afterward? What’s the point?”
“You win, I let you go,” Big Jim said.
Leonard shook his head. “You a man of your word, Big Jim?”
“You trying to gamble with me?” Big Jim said.
“You let me and this walking stack of dog shit fight,” Leonard said, “and I win, you got to let me and my man go here. You got to let the woman and the whore go too. Toss in Irvin here ’cause he’s stupid. Herman too. The midget, I don’t give a shit.”
“I give you your life,” Big Jim said.
“Not good enough,” Leonard said.
Big Jim shook his head. “I’m going to hate myself in the morning. Okay. I give you Hap, the pilot, the woman, and the whore. Take Herman too. Red, I got plans for.”
Red studied Big Jim’s face, hoping to see some sign that the plans were positive, but the expression he hoped to see just wasn’t there.
“What I say,” Big Jim said, “is this. You two fight. One can’t stand up when it’s over is the loser. My man loses, I let everyone but the troll go.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Red,” Herman said.
Big Jim turned to look at Herman. “Have it your way.” Then back to us. “You lose, colored fella, I got to shoot you all. But I’ll make it quick. Promise. I got to tell you, gambling, it’s my vice. You got me by the short hairs on that. My wife tells me I’ll bet on anything and that I’m too good-hearted. She’s right.”
Leonard said, “Let me speak to my people.”
“Snap it up,” Big Jim said. “This plane fire, it could cause problems. Another minute, this offer’s no good.”
Leonard eased over to us, unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it on the ground. He and Brett helped me to stand. Leonard said, “I don’t know he’ll keep his word or not. It’s all we got, though.”
“You’re bushed,” I said.
“It’s not like we got a choice,” Leonard said. “Right now you couldn’t whip a three-year-old in a straitjacket.”
“Come on,” Big Jim said. “Enough whispering. Do it.”
30
They closed the back door and two suits stood there as guards. The others spread out in a circle around us and Big Jim moved his stool back a few paces. Red slid up against the wall, trying to blend his molecules with it so that he might pass through.
Wilber took off his cheap jacket and tossed it over the side of Bill’s pickup bed. He unbuttoned his shirt at the neck and rolled up his sleeves. Wilber gestured at me, said to Leonard, “It’s not gonna be as much fun hittin’ you as him.”
“I’ll try to make you laugh,” Leonard said.
“He’s twice Leonard’s size,” Brett whispered to me.
“If Leonard isn’t too tired, it’ll be all right,” I said.
Wilber had his legs spread wide and his fist clenched. I could tell then he didn’t know shit about technique. Probably never had to use any. When you’re that big and strong you can get away with lack of technique.
Leonard didn’t adopt any stance or posture. He just sort of eased toward Wilber. Wilber suddenly kicked out with his right leg, a stiff, but hard and fast kick. Leonard scooped it up with his left arm and lifted and pushed backward. Wilber flopped to the dirt floor, rolled and came up. Leonard slid into a loose stance, bobbed a little like a boxer.
Wilber grinned at him. This was all great fun. He eased in and threw a wild right. Had it hit Leonard, it would probably have knocked his head somewhere just south of Mexico City.
But Leonard went under the punch, stuck a right in Wilber’s ribs, whipped a left to the kidney. Wilber took it well, came around with a backhand swipe that brushed the top of Leonard’s head. Leonard hit Wilber with a right uppercut, but Wilber hit Leonard with a left, a chopping blow just over the ear. It sent Leonard to the ground. Wilber kicked him then. Hit him in the face, full blast. Leonard rolled with it as much as possible, but it was a good shot and a spray of blood went wide in the dull lights of the hangar.
Leonard lay on his back, his face bleeding. Wilber planted kick after kick in Leonard’s side. Finally Leonard rolled into a kick, got hold of Wilber’s leg, and pushed him down. They rolled on the concrete for a moment, then Leonard stuck a finger in Wilber’s eye, got loose, got up.
