“The only opponent that interests him is in the mirror. And he likes him too much to get close. Even though they’re both wearing deodorant. Can you believe that? Ever hear of a boxer who insists on wearing underarm in the ring?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
“I keep saying, ‘Why do I smell petunias in here? Phew!’”
“Sparring, which one usually wins?”
“Neither of ’em. The young one keeps dancin’ like a city boy barefoot on a hot pavement so his pretty face won’t get hit. The other one keeps gettin’ so mad at himself for not connecting with the younger one that he bursts his own blood vessels. I tell you no lie.”
“I’d like to drive out to look at them.”
“No, sir! Don’t waste my time.”
“And bring a lady with me.”
“Don’t waste your time driving out here, from wherever you are. Even if you’re at my front gate. I won’t have you.”
“She’s a heavyweight.”
“No, sir! Not at my camp!”
“She needs training.”
“No, sir. I’m not ready for that. I never will be! Not in my camp! I’ve seen those magazines. Uh, uh.”
“We’ll see you in a few days.”
“You will not. You show up here, Fletch, and I’ll sic my two fighters on you, both Haja and Ricky, at the same time.”
“That’s no threat.”
“You’d better believe it is.”
“Naw,” Fletch said. “You’ve already told me their flaws.”
•
Fletch remained in the van’s driver’s seat.
The two attendants he had tipped rolled Crystal Faoni in an oversized wheelchair onto the hydraulic lift on the side of the van. He listened to the sound of the lift raising Crystal. The van tipped with her weight. In the back of the van they helped Crystal onto the large bed. The head of the bed was behind Fletch’s seat. They rolled the wheelchair back onto the lift and Fletch lowered it, and them, then raised the lift again and folded it within the van. They slid the van’s side door closed.
One of the attendants looked through the van’s open window. “Okay, buddy. Get her out of here.”
Slowly, Fletch drove the van along the driveway of Blythe Spirit. There were still many vehicles in the driveway. Entering the road, he turned right toward the highway.
He heard Crystal sniffing. She blew her nose. Somewhere she must have found a box of tissues.
On the highway he accelerated.
Crystal asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“Wyoming.”
There was a long pause. “Fletch? Is that you, Fletch?”
“You were expecting Charon maybe?”
“I thought you left.”
“I said I wouldn’t return to your room. Argue with you anymore.”
“You always leave.”
“Not if anyone really wants me. You didn’t really want me to leave, did you?”
“No.” She laughed. “What’s in Wyoming?”
“Not much, according to Mister Mortimer.”
“Who’s Mister Mortimer?”
“A cranky old man named Mortimer who has always insisted everybody call him ‘Mister.’”
“A friend of yours?”
“Yeah. He hates me. He’s sure to hate you, too.”
“Then why are we going there?”
“Best idea I’ve got. He probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s been adjusting people’s weight all his life. He’s a trainer. For boxers.”
“A boxing coach?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re taking me to a training camp for boxers?”
“Yeah. I thought we’d try it. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. You wouldn’t mind developing your upper-cut, would you?”
“What’s an uppercut?”
“A slash over the eyebrow.”
“I don’t want any of those.”
“The head of your bed raises and lowers.”
“Oh, yeah.”
He heard the electric motor raise the head of her bed.
“You can see out the windows. Nice scenery?”
“Yeah. The back of billboards.”
“All the fronts say is KEEP AMERICA BEAUTIFUL.”
“Jeez,” Crystal said. “He wants to turn me into a boxing champion.”
“Hey, lady,” Fletch said. “In your weight class, you’re a shoo-in.”
“Fletch? Can we stop so you can get me something to eat?”
“Sure,” Fletch said. “I’m hungry, too.”
“If I’m going to take up boxing,” Crystal said, “I’ll need to keep my strength up.”
5
The woman in the black bikini who came to swim in the Olympic-sized outdoor pool kept glancing at Jack.
Dressed only in the white shorts with vertical blue side stripes he had been given and told to wear as a condition of his employment. Jack was cleaning the pool.
At each end of the pool as she swam laps, she managed to roll her eyes up for another look at him.
Jack had been told there were many conditions of his employment at Vindemia.
Arriving in that area of Georgia, he was surprised to learn that the village of Vindemia was on the estate of Vindemia itself, and one needed a pass to visit even the village. The three thousand, five hundred acre estate was entirely surrounded by chain link fence. There was only one entrance, and that was guarded.
Before he left Virginia, spending some of his earnings from Global Cable News, Jack bought some clothes, and, a used blue Miata convertible. On his way to Georgia he had stopped at Subs Rosa in North Carolina for Eat-in and Take-out.
The town nearest Vindemia was Ronckton. There he had lunch in a coffee shop. He asked if there were any jobs to be had in the area. The woman behind the counter said, “Only on the estate, really,” and sent him to an accountant’s office down the street.
“You should just fit the bill,” the estate’s accountant, Clarence Downes, said at first sight of Jack. He had just returned from lunch. “Come in and sit down. Let’s talk.”
In his office, sitting behind his desk, Downes’ first question was, “Ever been in prison?”
“No, sir.”
“We’ll check on it.”
“Sure.”
“Any diseases?”
“I had chicken pox when I was a kid. I’m better now, thank you.”
“Can you swim?” Smiling with approval, the heavy man had already surveyed Jack’s body.
