“That’ll mean inspections, McEwan. So you have to put this ring away when it’s not in use. And you can’t charge admission anymore.”
“Okay.”
“You got any kind of records for your sales?”
“Somewhere.”
“Get rid of them. The day you get your license is the day this place officially opens.”
I crossed the room to the ring. “I’m grateful for this,” I said to him. “I’d be happy to put you on the list. You know, for matches and other things.”
He was pretending to fence with an invisible opponent, dodging blows, feinting left and right. “That’d be great,” he said. “I could slip in if I get a quiet shift some night.”
“You ever box?” I asked him.
“Naw, just a student of the sport. I don’t understand people who say it’s all brutality, though. It’s the most basic contest there is. Man against man, a duel of honor. My wife hates it.”
No she doesn’t, I thought. If Leonard Albrecht was planning on coming to matches, though, she wouldn’t be seeing any more fights in the basement of The Canteen.
I watched him up there shadowboxing, and my heart went out to him. He had no idea what his wife was made of. And he was so lonely in his work that he was willing to let a complete stranger off the hook if it meant being a part of something. I went to the cabinet behind the ring and got out two pairs of gloves and headgear and held them up. “You want to see what it feels like?”
He came over and leaned on the ropes. “And let you knock my block off? How do I explain that back at division?”
“We’ll take it easy. You’ll like it.”
He thought about it for a moment, then smiled and took off his jacket, tossing it over the corner as I stepped into the ring. I laced him up, but he waved off the headgear. “If I wear that, you’ll feel free to hit me.”
“It’s safer with it. Just in case.” I didn’t want to clock him accidentally, but he didn’t want to wear the gear. I tossed both protectors over the ropes. “Rule one: Keep your chin down. Tuck it into your lead shoulder, since you’re going to turn a little on an angle to me, give me less body to punch at. It’s natural to want to lift your head, but it’s the worst thing you can do. You got to protect both your throat and the button.” I touched the point of my chin with my glove. “And keep your hands up,” I told him, as we faced off. “Protect yourself and stay outside, you know what that means?”
“Keep back from you.”
“That’s right. Because you’re the bigger man here, you want some range. You want to keep me out from where I can work under your defenses, you understand?” He nodded. “And keep your eyes loose, like you’re trying not to look at me, but see my eyes and my chest and shoulders all at the same time.”
He nodded again, and we started circling each other, moving around the ring. He kept his hands up pretty tight to his face, but I could see him watching me between his gloves. There’s a lot you can learn from watching the fights, and he’d gotten it down pretty good, feinting away from me, keeping his head moving. I threw a couple of light jabs at him and he dodged them, returning punches when I was out of position and even connecting a couple of times, light jabs to my hairline. “That’s good,” I said, “you’ve got some ring sense.”
“You’re moving pretty slow.”
I started circling a little more aggressively, coming in when I sensed an opening, but he knew when to step out, break away. It was enjoyable. I’d sparred with Paschtenko, but that kid could knock me upstairs if he wanted to, and most of the time I spent in the ring with him, I just stayed away as much as I could. This was different, and in an odd way, it was a little intimate, like the beginning of a friendship. It was strange to have the man’s body in front of me, that body I had betrayed indirectly, at both a physical and emotional remove. This body so well known to Katherine. I suddenly felt grateful that he was not shirtless, that there was no more of the raw animal in front of me. I let us go a couple more minutes, connecting a few times, taking a semisolid punch or two to the kidneys from him. If he got into shape, he might have something, I thought.
I stepped back. “Well, officer, I should probably get back upstairs.” I’d lowered my gloves, but he was still moving toward me. I was completely open for the punch he threw, but I managed to slide away from it; he would have tagged me right on the chin. I batted his glove away. “Whoa,” I said. “There’s the bell.”
“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hands.
“Good instincts, though. Get yourself a trainer, you could put some tiger in that tank of yours.”
He picked his jacket off the turnbuckle, folded it over his arm. I stepped out and tossed the equipment back into the cabinet. “When’s the next bout?” he asked.
“Two weeks. You got a card?” He reached into his wallet and handed me one. He was sweating lightly. “So this is all going to stay on the QT?” I asked.
“Yeah, as long as you do what I say.”
“License, no ticket sales.”
“Get rid of your records.”
“Right,” I said.
“And one more thing.”
I snapped the light off over the ring. “You were never here, right?”
“Yeah, that. And stay away from my wife.”
I had my back to him and I froze, waiting for the blow, but it never came. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, Terry. We’re giving it another try and I want you to keep your distance. I’ll let you know if it doesn’t work out between us.”
I turned slowly to face him. “Jesus Christ,” I said.
“I know.” He slipped an arm into his jacket. “You seem like a nice guy and I’ll be happy for her if we can’t get our act together. As long as you go semi-legal here, you should both be fine. But for now... you know.” He offered me his hand. After a second I took it.
“Look, I’m...”
“I’ll be seeing you, Terry.”
He released my hand. I felt it drop, dead, to my side. “See me where?”
“Here,” he said. “That Cooper girl really did swear a complaint. I’m glad she did. This is the coolest thing I’ve stumbled across in fifteen years.”
He went out the door without another word.
I turned off the rest of the lights and locked the doors. Upstairs the first wave was being seated in the bar. Gillian came over as soon as she saw me. The look on my face, I guess. “Jesus... was that guy from the commission?”
“No. He was a cop.”
“Oh fuck,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“For now. But he warned me I could lose everything if I don’t clean up.”
She breathed out heavily. “Anything I can do?”
“Serve lunch,” I said. “What else is there to do?”
We did forty covers for lunch and another seventy-five at night. An average day in The Canteen. I looked him up online once I got home. He’d been an Ontario Golden Glove between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five. A heavyweight. He hadn’t won a single belt, but my guess is he didn’t want one bad enough.
I never heard from Katherine again, but after a few months, he started to show up at the fights. I said hello, but I let someone else serve him. Life is full of TKOs. You might think you’re still standing, but there’s the third man, waving his arms, and it’s all over.
For Steven Heighton and Michael Winter