by Jack Tunney
He brushed past Sal and held out a hand for me to take. I turned and shook with him. The top of Cardone’s head came to my shoulder. It wasn’t until he was right up on me that I noticed exactly how short he was. He carried himself like a much taller man.
He aimed that wagging finger at me again. “I came here tonight with an eye on you. Sal here has told me a lot about you.”
“That right?” I couldn’t figure this guy. He didn’t smell like a promoter. Too much aftershave, not enough sweat. The suit, the vest, the tie clip, pocket watch chain and mirror-shined shoes all said money. But what kind of money?
“I got a fight for you. Next week if you want it.”
“Sure. I want it.” It’s what I’d just been on Sal about, so I couldn’t turn down an offer just because the guy offering it gave me the creeps. “You a promoter? I never seen you around.”
“I’m a promoter of sorts. I put things together. Fights, other things. Entertainments.” He lowered his chin, looked up at me from under the brim of his expensive hat. “I arrange things.”
He was dropping hints and I was catching them.
“How’d you like another one in the win column?” Cardone said with a smile. I caught him sliding an eye down across my bare chest.
“Always.”
“I think I can,” he winked at me. “Arrange that for us.”
I turned to Sal who was still staring at the floor.
“Is this a fix up?” I asked. Why not get it out there? I’m not much for speaking in codes.
“It’s a chance for you to win another one and make a little scratch while you do it.”
“So, that’s a yes?”
For the first time the smile slipped off Cardone’s face. He turned to Sal. “Sal, are we gonna have a problem here?”
Sal didn’t react. Staring at the floor, I figured Sal just didn’t hear him.
“Sal?” he said louder.
Sal finally looked up. “No, no, Mr. Cardone. No problem. We’ll take the fight. No problem.”
The idea of a fix didn’t sit well with me. Even if I came out on the winning side. Plus, I was upset with Sal not telling me beforehand, but I realized he was trying to do so when Cardone came in. Still, it made me wonder how long he’d been planning it.
Cardone turned back to me. “So, kid, we have a deal?”
I looked again at the expensive suit Cardone wore. How much money does a man have to have that makes him carry himself a foot taller than he really is? Must be a lot.
“Did I mention it pays five hundred bucks?” he said.
I felt like I took a glove to the temple. My knees went a little soft. I don’t think he noticed. I learned something about myself right then. I learned I had a price.
FIGHT CARD: SPLIT DECISION
JACK TUNNEY
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