THE CUTMAN (FIGHT CARD) by Tunney Jack & Odom Mel & Bishop Paul

Author:Tunney, Jack & Odom, Mel & Bishop, Paul [Tunney, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Fight Card Productions
Published: 2011-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

ROUND 16

We went to four bars, all of ’em dives, before we found one the cap’n seemed happy with. He looked around, sniffed the air, then headed toward a table in the back where he took a chair that allowed him to look out over the bar.

I sat to his right at nine o’clock, covering the rest of the bar and everything behind the cap’n. I shifted around so I knew I could get to the .45 quick if I needed to.

A waitress came by and the cap’n ordered two beers and two ham sandwiches with chips. When the food and drinks came at the same time, the cap’n blew the foam off his beer and pushed his sandwich over to me. “I already ate.”

I didn’t hesitate. I hadn’t had anything to eat since last night, and I hadn’t had a chance to grab any grub on Wide Bertha. I hadn’t said anything about it because I knew the cap’n had his mind full. But he hadn’t forgotten about me.

I wolfed down the sandwiches and chips and made the beer last the same as the cap’n did. After an hour or so of sitting there, a man came in that the cap’n recognized.

The guy, a little Chinese man, recognized the cap’n at about the same time. They swapped looks, then the cap’n waved him over. Looking a little cautious, the Chinese man wandered over to us.

Then the cap’n surprised me, speaking Mandarin like he was a native. I had a few words of the lingo myself, but I couldn’t speak it like the cap’n could. Words flew between the two of them, then the man joined us at our table and knocked an unfiltered cigarette out of a pack and lit up. A blue-gray fog eddied around his head.

The Chinese man looked older than the cap’n, but that didn’t mean anything, because I knew them people was always older than most people thought. Which mean this guy had to have been ancient. His face was thin and narrow like a cat’s, and his eyes was cold and hard.

I couldn’t say that I warmed up to him too much. I’d killed plenty of men who looked like him over in Korea. Some guys I knew said they could see the difference between Koreans, Chinese, and Japanese, but I never could.

“Mick, this here’s a buddy of mine. Tu Li. Li, this is one of my crew, Mickey Flynn.”

I started to offer my hand, then remembered the Chinese wasn’t overly fond of that tradition, and nodded instead. Li nodded back.

Li took a drag off his cigarette and eyed me through the smoke. “You big man.”

“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“You fighter?”

I didn’t know what he was asking and wondered if he wanted to know if I’d been a soldier.

“You fighter?” This time he touched his right eye and I knew he was talking about the bruise I had there. In case there was any confusion, he doubled up his fists and shadow-boxed.

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