“Well, look, if this is going to be your last fight, you can’t expect Petelli to take much
interest in you, can you?”
“I don’t want him to. The less I have to do with him the better I’ll like it.”
“But he’s got his money on the Kid, so the Kid’s got to win.”
“Well, all right, if the Kid’s all that good, he probably will win.”
“He’s got to win,” Brant said huskily. “It’s orders.”
I stared at him.
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve arranged for me to take a dive?”
“That’s it. Petelli’s giving you a big build-up. The betting will switch, and he’s spreading
his dough on the Kid. My instructions are for you to take a dive in the third.”
“I told you: I’ve never taken a dive, and I don’t intend to take one now.”
Brant mopped his face with a none-too-clean handkerchief.
“Look, Farrar, you’re getting five hundred bucks and a car out of this. For the love of Mike
don’t make it difficult.”
“If the Kid can’t win by beating me, then it’s his funeral. I’m not taking a dive!”
“You haven’t any choice,” Brant said, beginning to sweat. “When Petelli says a thing it
sticks.”
20
“Well, let’s take that a step further. Suppose I don’t take orders from him - what then?”
“You’re up to your neck in trouble. I’m not kidding. Petelli’s poison. There was a boy who
lost him a lot of money a couple of years back, not doing what he was told. They laid for him
and smashed his hands so he never fought again. They bashed his knuckles with a steel rod
until they were pulp, and that’s what’ll happen to you if you don’t do what he tells you.”
“They’ll have to catch me first.”
“They’ll catch you. The other boy thought he was smart. He ducked out of town, but they
caught up with him. It took them six months to find him, but they found him. He was picked
up with a cracked skull and broken mitts, and he’s never been any good since.”
“You don’t scare me,” I said, getting angry. “This is going to be a straight fight or I quit!”
“Use your head, Farrar,” Brant pleaded. “If Petelli says you take a dive, then goddamn it,
you’ll take a dive. Ask anyone. Ask Roche. You just don’t fool with Petelli. What he says
goes.”
“Not with me, it doesn’t.” I stood up. “This is my last fight, and I’m not getting mixed up in
a dive. Tell Petelli that from me.”
“You tell him,” Brant said hurriedly. “It’s your baby now.”
“Oh, no, it isn’t. You fixed this: you unfix it. I’m going over to the gym to loosen up.”
He must have rushed around to Petelli the moment I had left the cafe, for I was just getting
warmed up in the gym under Waller’s supervision when Petelli’s two muscle-men came in.
Later I was to learn their names were Pepi and Benno. Pepi was a slick-looking Wop,
wearing a pencil-lined moustache like his boss, while Benno was fat and blue-chinned and
vicious.
They marched in like they owned the place, and Waller froze at the sight of them. All right,
I admit it, there was something about those two that made my flesh creep.
“Come on,” Pepi said, jerking his thumb at me, “get your clothes on. The boss wants you.”
“I’m busy,” I said. “He’ll find me here if he wants me that badly.”
I heard Waller catch his breath. He was looking at me as if he thought I was crazy.
21
“Don’t give me that stuff,” Pepi snarled, his pinched face vicious. “Get your clothes on and
come!”
He was a head shorter than I was, and I didn’t want to hit him, but hit he was going to be if
he didn’t change his tone.
