James Chase - Strictly For Cash

“Get up, Johnny!” she screamed at me. “You can’t quit now!”

The anger, contempt and disappointment on her face electrified me. It was all I needed. It flashed through my mind I had never intended to obey Petelli’s orders anyway, and that scornful, screaming voice and the black, furious eyes clinched it.

I heard the referee call “... seven... eight...”

I got up somehow, beating his down-sweeping arm by a split second, and as the Kid rushed in, I grabbed his arms and hung on like grim death. I knew by the desperate way he struggled to get free he realized I was going to double-cross Petelli, and he was going to lose the fight unless he could nail me before I had shaken off the effects of his punch.

I hung on in spite of all he did, and in spite of the referee trying to tear us apart. I only needed four or five seconds to get my head clear, and when I did decide it was safe to break, I stabbed my left into the Kid’s cut-up face before he could get set to throw a finishing punch.

Panting and wild he came at me, but I weaved away, back-pedalled, and left him floundering. He was as wild as a rogue elephant now, and kept rushing at me while I dodged and retreated until I was good and ready to take him. Then as he came in for the fourth time I stopped in my tracks and brought over the right look. It smashed against his jaw and down he went in a flurry of blood, rolled over and stiffened out.

It was a waste of time to count him out, but the referee went through the motions. When he reached ten, the Kid was still lying on his back as motionless as a corpse.

White and scared looking, the referee moved over to me and lifted my glove as if it was loaded with dynamite.

“Farrar’s the winner!”

I looked at her. She was standing up, flushed and excited, and she blew me a kiss. Then the ring became crammed with pressmen and photographers, and I lost sight of her.

Petelli appeared out of the crowd. He was smiling, but his eyes were hot and intent.

“Okay, Farrar,” he said. “Well, you know what to expect.”

He moved away to speak to the Kid’s manager, and Waller, his face grey and his eyes rolling, came over to me and dropped my dressing-gown across my shoulders.

As I climbed out of the ring I caught sight of Pepi, a tight little grin on his face, waiting at the top of the ramp.

I felt safe enough so long as the dressing-room was crowded with pressmen and fans who had come to shake hands with me and to tell me what a fine fighter I was, but when they began to drift away I knew trouble was creeping up on me.

Waller had returned to the dressing room with me. He was scared all right, and as soon as he had finished rubbing me down, he began to cast nervous and longing glances at the door. Tom Roche had been in, but I got rid of him quickly. I didn’t want him mixed up in any trouble.

There were now only a couple of pressmen and three fans left, and they were arguing in a corner about who had the heaviest punch among the old heavyweights, and they weren’t paying any attention to me.

“Okay, Henry,” I said, as I fixed my tie. “Don’t wait. Thanks for all you’ve done.”

“There ain’t anything I can do for you,” Waller said. “You’d better get out fast. Don’t let them catch you alone.” He wiped his shiny face with the back of his hand. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Shouldn’t have done — what?”

A creepy sensation ran up my spine as I turned. There she was in her apple-green linen suit, her big black eyes looking into mine, a cigarette between her white-gloved fingers. “What shouldn’t you have done, Johnny?”

Waller edged away and slid out of the room, leaving me staring at her like a paralysed deaf mute. The little group in the corner stopped talking and eyed her hungrily.

One of the pressmen said, “Let’s go, boys: this is the one time a fighter really likes to lose his friends.”

They all laughed as if he had cracked the best joke in the world, but they went. The little room seemed suddenly vast and empty as the last of them drifted through the doorway.

“Hello,” I said, and reached for my coat. “Did you win any money?”

She smiled. Her teeth were small and even and sharply white against her scarlet lips.

“A thousand, but you gave me a heart attack when you went down. I had to lay out four and I thought I was going to lose it.”

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I wasn’t concentrating. There was a girl at the ringside who took my mind right off my business.”

“Oh!” She looked at me from under her eyelashes. “How did she do that?”

“She happened to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“You should tell her that. Girls like being told things like that.”

“I am telling her.”

“I see.” She continued to smile, but her eyes hardened. “That’s very flattering, but I don’t believe it. It looked like a dive to me.”

My face reddened.

“What do you know about dives?”

“All the signs were on the wall. The funny little men whispering in your ear, the way you left yourself open. I go to all the fights. It happens every now and then. What made you change your mind?”

“The girl,” I said, “and the thought of all the little mugs who were betting on me.”

“This girl seems to have had quite an influence on you,” she said, studying me, then she went on, “I think you’re handsome, Johnny.”

I leaned against the wall, aware I was wasting precious time. I shouldn’t be talking to this girl. I should be getting out of here before the crowd left. That was my only chance of giving Pepi and Benno the slip. But not even Petelli himself could have got me out of this room at this moment.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Why did you come up here?”

Her face was serious now, but there was still that look in her eyes that kept sending tingles up my spine.

“Never mind who I am. Call me Della if you must call me something,” she said. “I’m here because you’re in trouble, and I guess it’s partly my fault. You are in trouble, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing you can do anything about.”

“How bad is the trouble?”

“Two Wops are laying for me. If they catch up with me, it’s probably curtains.”

“You double-crossed Petelli?”

That startled me.

“You know him?”

“That little thug! I know of him, but I wouldn’t know him if he were the last man on earth. We’re wasting time. I’ll get you out of here.” She went to the window and looked out. “You can reach the car-park by climbing down that pipe.”

I joined her at the window. There weren’t many cars left in the park by now.

“There’s my car: the first one on the right in the second row. If you can reach it without being seen, you’ll be safe.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, looking at the low-slung Bentley coupé she was pointing at. “I can’t drag you into this. These Wops are dangerous.”

“Don’t be a fool. They won’t know a thing about it.”

“Let’s be sensible about this...”

“Oh, don’t argue! I’m going down to the car now. Lock the door after me. As soon as you see me down there, come on after me. I’ll drive over to you. Get in the front seat and leave the rest to me.”

Glancing at the Bentley again, I spotted the expensive-looking item in the seersucker suit. He was standing by the car, looking to right and left.

“Your friend won’t like this,” I said. “He’s waiting for you now.”

She laughed, a hard, humourless little sound that made me stare at her.

“He’s not a friend: he’s my husband,” she said, and moved quickly to the door. “I won’t be five minutes. Don’t let anyone in.” She was gone before I could stop her.