missed in that one searching glance.
“Where did you find him?”
“He’s the guy who bust MacCready’s jaw,” Brant said, and nervously took out his
handkerchief and mopped his face.
“I heard about that. Is it your idea to match this boy against the Kid?”
“I was coming to see you about it, Mr. Petelli. But first I wanted to find out how he
shaped.”
“The nigger seems to think he shapes all right,” Petelli said with a thin smile.
“He’s a little out of training …” Brant began, but Petelli cut him short.
“Come down to my office in an hour. We’ll go into it.” He looked at me. “What do you call
yourself?”
“The name’s Farrar,” I said curtly, and ducked under the ropes.
“You look a good boy to me,” Petelli said. “I can give you some fights. Have you signed
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with Brant?”
“I haven’t signed with anyone,” I said, “and I’m not signing with anyone. This is strictly
my one and only appearance.”
“You’d better come down with Brant, and we’ll talk this over,” Petelli said. “I can give you
a fight a month.”
“I’m not interested,” I said, and walked across the gym to the changing booths in a sudden
silence you could hang your hat on.
IV
I got back to Roche’s Cafe in time to see Josh Bates driving his six-wheel truck along the
waterfront towards the Miami highway. I watched him go with mixed feelings. I had a
sneaking idea I should have been on that truck.
Roche was polishing an urn when I walked in.
“So you changed your mind,” he said. “Josh waited around for you. What happened?”
“Sorry, Tom. I got hung up.” I told him of Brant’s offer. “With a car and five hundred
bucks I’ll be set. It means hanging around for four days, but when I go I’ll move on my own
steam.”
I went on to tell him about Petelli.
“You want to keep an eye on that baby,” Roche said. “He’s got a bad reputation.”
“I can believe it, and I intend to keep out of his way. I’ve got to do a little training. There’s
not much time, but I figure I can get into some sort of shape before Saturday.”
“You’ll stay with us, Johnny. Don’t argue. We’ll be glad to have you.”
I didn’t argue. I was glad to be with them.
Later, Solly Brant came into the cafe. He slumped down at a corner table as if he had
completed a ten-mile run.
I went over and joined him.
“Well, it’s all fixed,” he said heavily. “It took all my time to convince Petelli this was your
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last fight. I think you’re making a mistake, Farrar. Petelli could make you a sack of dough.”
“I’m not interested.”
“That’s what I told him, and I finally convinced him, but you’ve still time to change your
mind.”
“I’m not changing it.”
Brant shifted uneasily.
“It’ll make a difference.”
“How’s that?”
