you like I did Red and you'd have blood all over your pectoral muscles. You ready to stand up yet?"
"Yeah." He got painfully to his feet and looked at me with his head half lowered. "We won't forget this," he said.
"No, I certainly hope not," I said. "But I'm still game for a couple of rounds, if you like."
"You holding the gun?"
"Sure, just so I don't have to deal with all five of you at once. So I'll fight you one-handed. How's that sound?"
"Sure, till I start winning, then you use the gun, right?"
"You won't start winning, so the question is moot," I said.
"You think you can fight me one hand?"
"Sure," I said, and hit him square in the nose with my left fist. It rocked him back and the blood started. Just like Red. He shook his head and started toward me.
"You on the wall, you start to move and I'll kill you," I said, and rolled backwards and let his right fist sweep past my chin. I hooked my left hand over his right shoulder and caught him on the cheek under his right eye. I did it twice more, short hooks before he could get his right shoulder and arm up for cover. When he raised the right arm I slid around him with a little shuffle and got a sharp hook into his kidneys. He grunted and turned toward me, and I slapped the gun from my right to my left hand and hit him full swinging straight overhand right on the chin, and he sagged and rubber-legged backwards two steps and sat down, his legs spread and flaccid, his arms sagging in his lap. He sat for a minute, then went over on his side and was still.
One of the wall birds, a guy with a thick neck and very blond hair, said, "You said one hand."
"At a time," I said.
I put the gun back in my right hand. My knuckles were a little numb and would probably be puffy tomorrow. There was a pleasant touch of sweat on my forehead and the muscles in my shoulders and back felt energized and engorged. I felt good. Watch out, Red Rose, I'm on your trail.
"Get him on his feet," I said, "and get him out of here."
Red held on to his nose. The other three got the weight lifter to his feet and helped him as he wobbled among them. All five looked like they were trying to find a way to leave with dignity.
One of them, the blond one, said, "We know where you are." I said, "You knew where I was this time, and look what it got you." No one had anything to add to that, so they shuffled the weight lifter through the door and were gone.
I put the gun back under my arm, went to the sink in the washroom and ran cold water over my hands for a few minutes, and rinsed my face and toweled dry. Then I went back into my office and walked to the window and looked down at Berkeley Street where it intersects Boylston and did some deep breathing. . It seemed like he could trust her. He could talk to her about things he'd never said before. About that time in school. About his mother. She never told. They weren't supposed to.
There was some sort of oath… it never hurts to keep your mouth shut.
"My mother used to say that women would take me for all they could get."
She smiled slightly and nodded.
"Iguess she meant money. That they'd go out with me for my money."
"Did you have a lot of money?"
"Me? No. My father had some, but I never had any, and, I mean, I was a kid; kids don't have money."
Today she was wearing a light gray suit with a high round collar and some pearls. Her stockings and shoes were white.
"So maybe there was something else they'd take, "she said.
"Like what?"
She shrugged.
"I always felt bad when she said that. It was like nobody would go out with me for, you know, just what they could get. And it made me feel like I was stupid, like if any broad wanted to take me for everything she could get, she could, and I'd be too weak to stop her."
"Weak," she said. It wasn't exactly a question, and it wasn't exactly a comment.
"Dumb, whatever."
She nodded.
"Must have made girls seem pretty scary, when you were a boy."
"Well, not scary. I mean a boy doesn't have to be scared
"Yeah." He got painfully to his feet and looked at me with his head half lowered. "We won't forget this," he said.
"No, I certainly hope not," I said. "But I'm still game for a couple of rounds, if you like."
"You holding the gun?"
"Sure, just so I don't have to deal with all five of you at once. So I'll fight you one-handed. How's that sound?"
"Sure, till I start winning, then you use the gun, right?"
"You won't start winning, so the question is moot," I said.
"You think you can fight me one hand?"
"Sure," I said, and hit him square in the nose with my left fist. It rocked him back and the blood started. Just like Red. He shook his head and started toward me.
"You on the wall, you start to move and I'll kill you," I said, and rolled backwards and let his right fist sweep past my chin. I hooked my left hand over his right shoulder and caught him on the cheek under his right eye. I did it twice more, short hooks before he could get his right shoulder and arm up for cover. When he raised the right arm I slid around him with a little shuffle and got a sharp hook into his kidneys. He grunted and turned toward me, and I slapped the gun from my right to my left hand and hit him full swinging straight overhand right on the chin, and he sagged and rubber-legged backwards two steps and sat down, his legs spread and flaccid, his arms sagging in his lap. He sat for a minute, then went over on his side and was still.
One of the wall birds, a guy with a thick neck and very blond hair, said, "You said one hand."
"At a time," I said.
I put the gun back in my right hand. My knuckles were a little numb and would probably be puffy tomorrow. There was a pleasant touch of sweat on my forehead and the muscles in my shoulders and back felt energized and engorged. I felt good. Watch out, Red Rose, I'm on your trail.
"Get him on his feet," I said, "and get him out of here."
Red held on to his nose. The other three got the weight lifter to his feet and helped him as he wobbled among them. All five looked like they were trying to find a way to leave with dignity.
One of them, the blond one, said, "We know where you are." I said, "You knew where I was this time, and look what it got you." No one had anything to add to that, so they shuffled the weight lifter through the door and were gone.
I put the gun back under my arm, went to the sink in the washroom and ran cold water over my hands for a few minutes, and rinsed my face and toweled dry. Then I went back into my office and walked to the window and looked down at Berkeley Street where it intersects Boylston and did some deep breathing. . It seemed like he could trust her. He could talk to her about things he'd never said before. About that time in school. About his mother. She never told. They weren't supposed to.
There was some sort of oath… it never hurts to keep your mouth shut.
"My mother used to say that women would take me for all they could get."
She smiled slightly and nodded.
"Iguess she meant money. That they'd go out with me for my money."
"Did you have a lot of money?"
"Me? No. My father had some, but I never had any, and, I mean, I was a kid; kids don't have money."
Today she was wearing a light gray suit with a high round collar and some pearls. Her stockings and shoes were white.
"So maybe there was something else they'd take, "she said.
"Like what?"
She shrugged.
"I always felt bad when she said that. It was like nobody would go out with me for, you know, just what they could get. And it made me feel like I was stupid, like if any broad wanted to take me for everything she could get, she could, and I'd be too weak to stop her."
"Weak," she said. It wasn't exactly a question, and it wasn't exactly a comment.
"Dumb, whatever."
She nodded.
"Must have made girls seem pretty scary, when you were a boy."
"Well, not scary. I mean a boy doesn't have to be scared
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