“Get this hunk of garbage out of here before I really go to town on him.”
The fat man was staring at the big fellow, spread out on the floor, as if he couldn’t believe
his eyes. As he knelt beside him I went over to Roche and helped him to his feet. He was
breathless, but he could stand, and he had still a lot of fight left in him. He made a move
towards the big fellow as if he were set on hitting him again, but I held him back.
“He’s had enough,” I said. “You don’t want to break your hands on a lump like him. Take
it easy.”
The girl came over and put her arms round him. I left him to her and joined the two men in
singlets and the trucker who were staring down at the big fellow.
The fat man was trying to bring him round without much success.
“Bust his jaw,” the trucker said, and drew in an excited hiss of breath. “I’ve never seen a
punch like it! Didn’t travel an inch–and socko! Well, the bum certainly asked for it.”
“Get him out of here,” I said. “Come on, boys, hoist him up and get him outside.”
The fat man looked up. He had eyes like pools of beer, and from his expression I thought
he was going to burst into tears.
“You’ve broken my boy’s jaw,” he said, “and he’s righting on Saturday.”
“I should have broken his neck,” I said. “Get him out of here before I change my mind and
finish the job.”
The big fellow opened his eyes, groaned and sat up. The lower part of his jaw sagged
hideously, and an ugly red patch showed on his right cheek where I had slapped him.
The two guys in singlets hauled him to his feet and supported him. He went with them
without looking at me, his head on his chest, his eyes glazed and his legs like rubber. The fat
7
man brought up the rear. He looked as if he were following behind his mother’s hearse.
The trucker turned to gape at me as if I were the miracle boy come down from the sky on a
cloud of fire.
“Well, for crying out loud!” he exclaimed. “Do you know who that was - the guy you
socked? That’s Joe MacCready, the local champ. He’s fighting the Miami Kid on Saturday,
and there’s a load of dough spread on the fight. Take my tip, brother, and get out of town.
When Petelli hears what you’ve done to MacCready, he’ll blow his top. I’m not kidding.
Petelli’s as dangerous as a rattlesnake. Get your skates on and beat it!”
II
I pushed back my chair and reached for a cigarette, but Roche beat me to it. Everything was
on the house this night. I had just climbed outside the best meal I had eaten in years, and
while I ate Roche and his wife, Alice, kept me company. I liked them. They were the kind of
folk I could get along with, and we were on first-name terms before I had finished the meal.
They had done most of the talking while I was eating, and now I knew it was my turn.
“Maybe you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” I began, when Roche had lit my cigarette.
“Well, I’m from Pittsburgh. My old man ran a cafe bang opposite the Carnegie Steelworks.
You’d have thought a cafe situated outside the biggest steelworks in the world would have
paid off, wouldn’t you? But it didn’t. Don’t ask me why. I never got around to figuring it out
myself. There was damn-all when he died. A good thing or I might be still there. As it is I had
to sell up to pay what he owed, and that left me without a home. So I thought I’d take a look
at Florida, and boy! am I glad I did.”
Roche scratched the side of his jaw and squinted at me.
“What’s so special about Florida?”
“Ever been to Pittsburgh? Soot, dirt, noise and fog - that’s Pittsburgh. That’s what’s so
special about Florida.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ve lived here all my life. I get sick of the sum sometimes.”
“Brother, you don’t know when you’re well off! I’ve had the finest three weeks of my life
riding trucks this far. This country’s terrific.” I leaned forward. “And that reminds me. I got a
ride off a guy named Williams. He told me to come here. You know him ?”
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“Yeah: known him years.”
“He said you could fix me a ride to Miami. Can you do it?”
“That’s easy. Josh Bates is on the Miami run. I keep his mail for him. He’ll be in tomorrow
morning. I’ll fix it for you. So you’re going to Miami?”
“You bet.”
“Hey, Alice, Roche said, “how about some more beer? Can’t you see this fella’s dying of
thirst?” While she was in the kitchen getting the beer, he went on, “That’s the finest hook I’ve
seen outside anything Dempsey threw. You in the game? I guess you must be. That late shift
of yours and the way …”
“I’ve been in it, but I’m through now. It’s too much of a racket.”
He eyed me over.
“With that build and that hook you could be sensational. Who have you fought ?”
“I had three rounds with Joe Louis when he ran out of sparring partners during his Army
exhibition tour. Nice guy, Joe. He said I had a good right hand.”
“Joe said that?” Roche seemed impressed.
“The best scrap I ever had was when I deputized for Abe Linsky. I put Jack Weiner away in
the second.”
Roche gaped at me.
“You mean - Jack Weiner? The Californian champ?”
“That’s the fella. He wasn’t champ then, but he was quite a scrapper. I was lucky to hang
one on his jaw. I guess he was a shade too confident.”
“Jeepers!” Roche said. “Well, that’s something. What made you quit?”
“I guess I like to keep my face the shape it is, besides, I’ve got other ideas.”
“Sounds like a waste of talent to me,” Roche said, shaking his head. “If you could take
Weiner …”
“That trucker told me to get out of town. He said Petelli would have something to say about
9
MacCready.”
“You don’t have to worry about Petelli. Solly Brant will tell him what happened. Besides,
the Miami Kid is getting Petelli’s backing. If it had been the Kid you hit, then you would
have had to get out fast, but Petelli hasn’t any time for MacCready.”
“This Solly Brant you just mentioned. Is he the fat guy with MacCready?”
“That’s right. He owns MacCready, and I bet he wishes he didn’t. He’s not a bad fella, but
what can you do with a bum like MacCready?”
Alice returned with two pints of beer.
Roche had insisted that I should stay the night at the cafe, and I welcomed the suggestion.
For the past three weeks I had been sleeping rough, and the thought of a night in a bed was
tempting.
After we had talked a while, I pushed back my chair.
“If it’s okay with you I’d like to turn in now. I’ve been truck riding for eight h6urs, and I’m
about asleep on my feet.”
“Go ahead. Alice’ll show you the room,” Roche said, and stood up. He offered his hand.
“And thanks again for what you did.”
“Forget it,” I said, shaking hands. “Thanks for the meal. It was great.”
Alice took me upstairs to a small room that looked on to the waterfront.
“If there’s anything you want …”
“Not a thing. That bed sure looks good.”
“You can take a bath if you want to. It’s right next door.”
“I’ll do that. You know this is pretty nice of you.”
“We’re very grateful for what you did, Johnny. That brute might have hurt Tom badly.
He’s not very strong.”
“But he’s got a lot of guts. I guess you’re pretty proud of him.”
10
“Oh, I am.” She put her hand on my arm, and her eyes were shining. “He’s been through
some bad times, but he’s always been good to me. But if you hadn’t come in when you did
…”