times. We get a chance of a good bout we grab it wiv both ‘ands, an’ we pray ter God a bit of the Golden Triangle gold rubs off on us.’
Freedom blinked. Ed could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He repeated, ‘Golden Triangle’, then looked at Ed. It was dawning on him exactly who Rikard and Kearn were.
‘Yeah, my idols. An’ Sir Charles is pullin’ strings ter get ‘em on our side, so do as I say an’ we’ll get yer a fight.’
A week went by without any news, and the hotel bills were mounting. Freedom was becoming restless, he had nothing but aggravation at the gym, where they referred to him as ‘the black’, and he had almost got into a street brawl. A car passed him and Evelyne as they strolled arm-in-arm, and the occupants had shouted ‘white trash’ at her. He had chased the car in hapless fury.
He felt caged in the hotel, and Ed worried himself sick. He recognized the signs and knew that Freedom needed a bout soon. He also needed a change of scenery.
At long last there was progress. Sir Charles received a cable from Tex Rickard, cordially inviting them to visit him at his villa in Miami. Freda, Evelyne, and Edward, along with all their luggage and a very disgruntled, moody Freedom, left Chicago to take up residence in a small, rented villa in Miami. The villa was right on the ocean front, and Freedom began to relax a little. Sir Charles had instructed Ed to stand by, hire a car and wait. Ed was on tenterhooks, practising driving the car up and down the drive. He almost ran his future champion down as he came out of the villa swinging his towel at the motor. ‘How long, Ed? How long does he want us to wait here?’
Ed pulled on the handbrake. ‘That was a bloody silly thing to do. I could ‘ave run yer over.’
Freedom glowered. ‘You tell me how long mun? eh?’
Ed went red in the face, shouting back, ‘I dunno, do I? Why don’t you get on the beach, run, spend yer time gettin’ fit; just fer God’s sake stop asking me when-when when-when. It’ll be when Sir Charles says, that’s all I ruddy know.’
Freedom took off down the beach and Ed hit the steering wheel, shouting at himself now. ‘When you bastard, when? … when?’
Ed rushed into the villa bellowing for Freedom at the top of his voice. Freda was inspecting the fridge with delight, having never seen one before. ‘They’re on the beach, Ed … Ed, just look at this, it makes cubes of ice for the drinks.’
Ed was already rushing out on the beach waving his arms in the air. Evelyne and Edward were at the water’s edge, laughing at the little waves. Freedom was doing pressups.
‘Freedom … come on, we got to go an’ meet ‘em all now … Now, come on, lad … Here, wrap this round yer neck, don’t go gettin’ cold.’
Freedom took the towel and nicked it at Ed. ‘That’ll take some doin’, mun, it’s blazing hot.’ He went off at a fast run towards the villa, Ed following on his stubby little legs as quickly as he could. -
By the time Ed collapsed on the stairs, Freedom was already taking a shower. He could hear Freedom whistling, taking his time. Ed puffed his way up the stairs and paced up and down outside the bathroom until Freedom came out, stark naked. He was deeply tanned, the outline of his shorts showing lighter. Ed hovered at the bedroom door while Freedom dressed. It never ceased to amaze him how beautiful his lad was, like a statue, every muscle clearly defined.
‘What yer doin’ now? We can’t keep these fellas waitin’. Gawd almighty, you do nothin’ but moan about wantin’ a fight, now when we got to go an’ talk about it, what you doin’?’ ‘
Freedom beamed at him as he pulled on a shirt. Ed heard Freda below mixing drinks in a newfangled machine. ‘Gawd love us, git yer pants on … Freda? Don’t you go cookin’ nothin’, we’re on our way out, at least, we will be when this bloody lad gets his gear on. Now, come on …’
At long last they were on their way.
Ed parked the rented car outside the ranch-style house, and he and Freedom were led on to a shaded patio by Kearn himself. There, already seated with Sir Charles and waiting to meet them, was the second point of the Golden Triangle, Tex Rickard. He rose to his feet and they were introduced. He was wearing a cowboy hat, tooled leather boots and a large silver and turquoise buckle on his belt. He was a big, expansive man, and a man who got immediately on to familiar terms. Ed loved him. Sir Charles was looking cool and suave in a white linen suit.
The men were drinking beer and their cigar smoke drifted up into the clear, bright sky. Ed and Tex Rickard were talking nineteen to the dozen, as they had been all afternoon, of boxers, of fights. Rickard gave a blow-by- blow account of the Tunney-Dempsey fight, the bout known as the ‘fight of the long count’. The new rule was that when a boxer was knocked down, his opponent had to go straight to a neutral corner. Only then could the count begin. If he didn’t move, the referee would not start the count.
‘Ed, ma boy, that count must have been well over sixteen, I was out of ma goddam mind! I screamed for Jack to get into the corner — he’d forgotten, see, in the heat of the moment. Jeez, I’m tellin’ ya, I wanted to get in the goddam ring myself … so of course, Tunney got a second wind, who wouldn’t after sixteen seconds?’
Ed turned to Freedom and jerked his thumb towards Rickard, telling him to pay close attention to what the man, the man, was saying. Freedom leaned forward and listened as the two men began to discuss the last Tunney fight, then relaxed again. He had seen the film, knew the fight punch by punch. Freedom was beside himself. There was Ed with Rickard, apparently going over every detail of every fight that had ever taken place in the USA, and on his other side Sir Charles and Kearn talking non-stop about aeroplanes.
The real reason they had all gathered at Kearn’s was to discuss a bout for Freedom, to make him a contender for the championship, but so far no one had said a word about it. In fact, they never brought the subject up at all.
Freedom was moody, his temper fraying. With a terrible grinding of gears they stopped at the villa, and as they climbed out of the car, Freedom began to question Ed. ‘So when do I fight, Ed, what went on? They going to help me get a bout or not?’
Ed puffed on a Cuban cigar, a gift from his new friend, Tex, and waved his hand majestically. ‘These things take time, son, got to be worked out, an’ Sir Charles is going ter have ter give them a percentage of the gate, see, so we don’t want ter rush fings. They want ter see you work out tomorrow at a friend’s place … Anyway, did I tell you what Tex told me about when he was gambling in Paris, France?’
‘I don’t give a bugger about his gambling, I want a fight and I want it soon, Ed.’
That night, Freedom felt Evelyne’s belly, and they both agreed it was going to be another boy. They discussed names, and Evelyne decided she would like to call him Alexander. Freedom muttered that it was a name for a woman, and she threw a pillow at him. He would have let her call the baby Freda if she’d wanted to.
The sun had tanned Evelyne’s pale skin and lightened her long red hair. He had never seen her so beautiful. The good life suited her, and he was determined it wouldn’t stop — not now, not ever.
He slipped from the bed and lifted the blind. The night was dark and the sea was lit by a perfect, brilliant moon. He clenched his hands, his frustration was building to-bursting point. He couldn’t sleep at night, and he spent all day waiting, always waiting.
At breakfast the following morning, Freedom had already been up for hours, running himself into exhaustion. He ate in silence, and the atmosphere grew tense. Ed was eating the most enormous platter of sausage and pancakes, and his paunch was growing as fast as Evelyne’s pregnancy.
‘Be patient, fings is goin’ just right.’
That was it. Freedom banged his fist on the table. ‘Sittin’ around eatin’, mun, you call that going just right? I came here to fight, so far I done nothin’ … maybe it’s not just Sir Charles out of his depth, mun, maybe you don’t know what you’re doin’ … Get me a fight, that’s all I want.’
As if on cue, a Western union boy rang their bell and handed over a telegram. Rickard had requested another meeting.
Ed and Freedom departed with the usual crashing of gears, Ed refusing to speak to Freedom until he apologized. Evelyne sighed, Freedom’s moods were getting to them all, apart from Freda, who spent most of her time with her nose in the fridge eating all the goodies she had discovered on their trips into town.
‘I’ll take Edward down to the beach.’
‘Freda, what if he loses? If he gets a bout and loses, we are all here, living in luxury — who’s paying for it?’
Freda sat down at the table with her raspberry ripple ice-cream. ‘Don’t talk that way. Of course he will win, don’t ever speak like that.’
