Saskatchewan.”
“They’d give you a run for your money here.”
“Would they? I’m ready.” He seemed to relax a bit, a slight smile passed over his face.
“I’ll see if I can get you a match,” Lauchlin said. “Indoors or out?”
“Outdoors for me. I like the outdoors.”
“Weather?”
“Rain or shine.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be a promoter.”
“Better that than what you’re doing.” What had brought him in the door took hold of him again. “If I don’t make it across the bridge and over that mountain, you’ll be seeing me.”
“I hope you make it over the mountain, good boxer like you. Jesus, I do.”
The man backed away another step. “Either way, I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here. I don’t travel much.”
Malcolm got to his feet and leaned on his cane, watching Cooper through the window exchanging words with Shane, then with George Morrison who had just pulled up to the pumps in his old Ford. George was shrugging, holding his hands out helplessly.
“I’ve seen constipated cats with better dispositions,” Malcolm said. “I’d keep an eye on him.”
Lauchlin had. “I’d rather not. I’d prefer to see him disappear. How the hell does Clement work with that?”
Shane came in, shaking his head. “Man, I’d like to pop that guy.”
“He’d like to do the same to you, so let’s stay calm about him. You can go ahead home now, Shane, we’ll see you in the morning.”
“If there’s any action, give me a shout, Lauch.”
“You’ve got all the action, boy, there’s none to be had here.”
He and Malcolm watched him buckle on his helmet and zip himself into a heavy leather jacket. He sat astride his motorcycle, revving it up, then blasted away down the road.
“That’s a mean set of pipes,” Lauchlin said. “His age, I preferred to go by on the quiet. I didn’t want that kind of attention.”
“Attention’s what it’s all about. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember feeling so damn good I thought I could do anything. My mind was sharp, I took in new things every day. I could run five miles before breakfast.”
“You’re still fit, boy. You look good.”
“Fit for what?”
“For that fella anyway.”
“Don’t put money on it.”
After Malcolm hobbled away home, Lauchlin swept the floor, tidied shelves and racks just to move around. He’d always been slow to anger, he was proud of that, short-fuse fighters didn’t last long in a ring. But Clement’s partner had left him tight, hard to work it out right now, confined as he was. He didn’t like a bastard like that thinking he might be an easy mark, that Cooper had nothing physical to fear from him. When Lauchlin was young, just to be known as a good boxer was usually enough to keep him out of hassles, though after he went pro someone was always eager to take him on and he’d had to walk away from mouths he dearly wanted to shut because his fists were lethal weapons and he was liable for the harm they could inflict. A professional just didn’t street fight anyway, there was no class to that. His first trainer Johnny Cechetto told him that if he ever fought anyone outside the gym, that was it, done, he wouldn’t waste his time on him. But that was long behind him. Now, with an obnoxious manin his face? Well, he would still have to back off, if not for the same reasons. Sometimes he used to think, what would Blair Richardson have done? Stayed calm and cool no doubt, from what he knew about him as a man, if talking to a bad character, reasoning with him didn’t work, he’d have had no trouble walking away. Blair had been a clean fighter, that match with Joe DeNucci from Boston, low blows again and again and the crowd yelling for Blair to give DeNucci a dose of the same, but he didn’t, it wasn’t in him, and he still won.
Lauchlin phoned the house to tell his mother he would close up, she needn’t relieve him, he wasn’t hungry. I’ve got your supper ready, she said, disgusted. But
“They’d give you a run for your money here.”
“Would they? I’m ready.” He seemed to relax a bit, a slight smile passed over his face.
“I’ll see if I can get you a match,” Lauchlin said. “Indoors or out?”
“Outdoors for me. I like the outdoors.”
“Weather?”
“Rain or shine.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be a promoter.”
“Better that than what you’re doing.” What had brought him in the door took hold of him again. “If I don’t make it across the bridge and over that mountain, you’ll be seeing me.”
“I hope you make it over the mountain, good boxer like you. Jesus, I do.”
The man backed away another step. “Either way, I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here. I don’t travel much.”
Malcolm got to his feet and leaned on his cane, watching Cooper through the window exchanging words with Shane, then with George Morrison who had just pulled up to the pumps in his old Ford. George was shrugging, holding his hands out helplessly.
“I’ve seen constipated cats with better dispositions,” Malcolm said. “I’d keep an eye on him.”
Lauchlin had. “I’d rather not. I’d prefer to see him disappear. How the hell does Clement work with that?”
Shane came in, shaking his head. “Man, I’d like to pop that guy.”
“He’d like to do the same to you, so let’s stay calm about him. You can go ahead home now, Shane, we’ll see you in the morning.”
“If there’s any action, give me a shout, Lauch.”
“You’ve got all the action, boy, there’s none to be had here.”
He and Malcolm watched him buckle on his helmet and zip himself into a heavy leather jacket. He sat astride his motorcycle, revving it up, then blasted away down the road.
“That’s a mean set of pipes,” Lauchlin said. “His age, I preferred to go by on the quiet. I didn’t want that kind of attention.”
“Attention’s what it’s all about. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember feeling so damn good I thought I could do anything. My mind was sharp, I took in new things every day. I could run five miles before breakfast.”
“You’re still fit, boy. You look good.”
“Fit for what?”
“For that fella anyway.”
“Don’t put money on it.”
After Malcolm hobbled away home, Lauchlin swept the floor, tidied shelves and racks just to move around. He’d always been slow to anger, he was proud of that, short-fuse fighters didn’t last long in a ring. But Clement’s partner had left him tight, hard to work it out right now, confined as he was. He didn’t like a bastard like that thinking he might be an easy mark, that Cooper had nothing physical to fear from him. When Lauchlin was young, just to be known as a good boxer was usually enough to keep him out of hassles, though after he went pro someone was always eager to take him on and he’d had to walk away from mouths he dearly wanted to shut because his fists were lethal weapons and he was liable for the harm they could inflict. A professional just didn’t street fight anyway, there was no class to that. His first trainer Johnny Cechetto told him that if he ever fought anyone outside the gym, that was it, done, he wouldn’t waste his time on him. But that was long behind him. Now, with an obnoxious manin his face? Well, he would still have to back off, if not for the same reasons. Sometimes he used to think, what would Blair Richardson have done? Stayed calm and cool no doubt, from what he knew about him as a man, if talking to a bad character, reasoning with him didn’t work, he’d have had no trouble walking away. Blair had been a clean fighter, that match with Joe DeNucci from Boston, low blows again and again and the crowd yelling for Blair to give DeNucci a dose of the same, but he didn’t, it wasn’t in him, and he still won.
Lauchlin phoned the house to tell his mother he would close up, she needn’t relieve him, he wasn’t hungry. I’ve got your supper ready, she said, disgusted. But
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