With These Hands

FIGHTERS DON'T DIVE Nimbly "Flash" Moran parried a jab and went in fast with a left to the wind. Stepping back, he let Breen get a breath. Then he flicked out a couple of lefts, put over an inside right, and as Breen bobbed into a crouch and tried to get in close, he clinched and tied him up. They broke, and Breen came in with a flurry of punches that slid off Moran's arms and shoulders. Then Moran's hip moved and a left hook that traveled no more than four inches snapped Breen up to his toes. Breen caught himself and staggered away. The gong sounded, and Flash Moran paused . . . then he slapped Breen on the shoulder and trotted to his corner. Two men were standing there with Dan Kelly. He knew them both by sight. Mike McKracken, an ex-wrestler turned gambler, and "Blackie" Marollo, small-time racketeer. "You're lookin' good, kid," Kelly said. "This next one you should win." "You might, but you won't stop him," Marollo said, looking up. "Nobody knocks Barnaby out." McKracken studied Moran with cold eyes. "You got paper on him?" he asked Kelly. "I don't need any," Kelly said. "We work together." "Well, if you had it, I'd buy a piece," McKracken said. "I need a good middle. Money in that class now with Turner, Schmidt, and Demeray comin up." "I wouldn't sell," Kelly said. "We're friends." "Yeah?" Marollo shot him a glance. "I'd hate to see somebody come along an' offer him a grand to sign up. You'd see how much friendship matters." Flash Moran looked at Marollo, then dropped to the floor beside him. "You've a rotten way of looking at things, Blackie," he said. "We aren't all dishonest, you know!" "You're pretty free with that lip of yours, kid. Maybe somebody will button it up one day. For keeps." Moran turned, pulled his robe around him, and started for the dressing room. "That kid better get wise or he won't last," Marollo said. "You tell him, Kelly." "You told him yourself," Kelly replied. "Didn't you?" Dan Kelly turned and walked up the aisle after Flash. Behind him, he heard Marollo's voice. "That punk. I'll fix him!" "You won't do nothin' of the kind," he heard McKracken growl. "We got too much ridin' on this to risk trouble." The voices faded out with the distance, and Kelly scowled. In the dressing room the trainer spoke up. "Keep an eye on Marollo, kid, he's all bad." "To the devil with him," Flash said. "I know his kind. He's tough as long as he has all the odds with him. When the chips are down, he'll turn yellow." "Maybe. But you'll never see him when he doesn't have the difference." Kelly looked at him curiously. "Where you goin' tonight?" "Out. Just lookin' around. Say, Dan, what do you suppose is bringing Marollo and McKracken around to the gym? One or the other's been down here five days in a row." "Probably sizing you up, figurin' the odds." Kelly knotted his tie. "Well. I&amL'Amour, Louis is the author of 'With These Hands', published 2003 under ISBN 9780553584912 and ISBN 055358491X.