Hanneford Harper turned his back on his manager and stood close to Danny. “Why did you quit?” he asked.
“No guts,” Steele said. “As soon as he got in with the men, no guts.”
“Shut up, Axel. He must have had a reason.”
“There was a reason,” Danny said. “Nobody has ever understood it.”
“Try me.”
Danny glanced at the hostile face of Axel Steele, at Mary-Jo as she sipped her drink, then back to Hanneford Harper s honest eyes watching him intensely. “I was twenty-two years old,” he said. “I was at my peak. I could box and hit, I had the instinct, and I wasn’t damaged.”
Harper said wistfully, “I know what you mean.”
“Then that first pro fight. The guy was a mixer, and he had nothing to lose. But I could have beaten him.”
Axel said, “Then why didn’t you?”
“Because to beat him I’d have had to open up to him, leave part of myself with him. It sounds crazy but I didn’t want him. I didn’t care about him.”
Harper was nodding. “He’s right. That’s what you have to do.”
“After the South American, there would have been another, and then another. Years of wearing myself down on all those guys wouldn’t have made me a better fighter. It would have used me up. So I made up my mind right then — if I couldn’t fight the champion, the hell with it.”
“Craziest thing I ever heard,” Axel Steele said.
There was a puzzled silence. Danny White said, “But I’ve always dreamed of having my chance.”
Harper’s laugh startled everybody. “Man, I knew you had something on your mind. I read you as soon as you walked in here.”
Danny smiled at him. “How about it, Champ? Do I get my fight?”
“That’s nonsense,” Axel said. “You aren’t even rated. Anyway, we’re matched with Alvarez in June and then we’re going to Japan.”
Danny said, “I mean right now. Today.”
The dancer nearest the radio bent down and switched it off. Everybody looked at Steele except Harper, whose grin kept widening. “How about this guy,” he said. “Isn’t he beautiful? He’s promoting himself a fight with Hanneford Harper!”
“There’s no way you’re going to mix with this guy,” Steele said. “Maybe sustain a cut that postpones the June fight. Forget it.”
Harper’s exuberant grin turned into a ghost of a smile. He said, “We won’t forget it unless I decide to forget it.” He looked hard at Axel Steele, who lowered his eyes. “Danny White saved my life this morning. I owe him something. Right, Danny?”
“That’s right, Champ,” Danny said. “You owe me.”
Trevor Malloy came in response to Danny’s phone call. He arrived out of breath at the small gymnasium the Starways Motel had installed to go with their sauna. Mats had been arranged on the floor and both heavyweights were outfitted in boxing gear. “Thanks for coming over, Trev,” Danny said. He did not have much voice.
“To see Danny White against Hanneford Harper,” Malloy said, “I’d crawl stark naked in the dead of winter on my hands and knees across a field of broken glass.”
Harper and Axel Steele crossed the mats. Harper said, “Any objection if Axel acts as referee? We gotta have somebody.”
“I don’t mind.”
“White, if you damage my fighter so he can’t keep our June date,” Steele said, “I’ll slap a suit on you in court.”
“I’m not going to damage him,” Danny said. “I’m going to knock him out.”
Harper’s massive grin flashed like a searchlight. “Listen to old Danny. He’s not afraid of anybody!”
The fighters went to their corners and the watchers took up places around the gymnasium walls. Malloy knelt beside Danny’s chair. “Box him in the early round,” he began. “Keep him off with the left...”
“Trev, old buddy,” Danny interrupted, “you don’t have to tell me what to do. I’ve been getting ready for this day all my life.”
“But that’s Harper. He’s the champion.”
“And I can beat him. I knew it when I quit three years ago and I know it now. The right ring at the right time.”
Malloy was almost able to believe it. “O.K., Danny, I’m with you. Go get him.”
Steele stood at the center of the rectangle of mats. “All right,” he said, “let’s get this farce over with. Three-minute rounds. Gabe will time it and sound the gong. Everything else is up to me. And when I say this fight is over, damn it, it’s over.”
Somebody struck a metal tray with an empty bottle. There was silence in the crowded room except for the whisper of the boxers’ shoes on the mats. Danny went on the attack immediately. His boxing skill was apparent and he put it to good use, feinting and jabbing, scoring frequently with sharp punches to his opponent’s head and body. Harper acknowledged the better shots with a grin. Danny remained deadly serious. The round ended with Danny White ahead on points had anybody been scoring.
Malloy was exuberant, towelling his fighter, giving him a drink. “Hey, you look great. Keep it up.”
“I can beat him, Trev. I know it.”
In Harper’s corner, Axel Steele leaned in and said, “Don’t you carry him. Hear me? The longer you carry him, the more chances he’ll cut you.”
“I’m not carrying him,” Harper said calmly. “He’s a boxer. He knows what he’s doing.”
“You’re a boxer too. Turn it on and finish him. Fast.”
Harper glanced at his trainer. “Should I do that?”
The trainer, a man in his sixties, looked almost sad. “The boy wants to fight the champ,” he said. “You ain’t being fair to him unless you show him what it is.”
The makeshift gong sounded and the fighters moved out to face each other. It was a different Hanneford Harper now. He was coiled more tightly and his punches began to appear in combinations so fast that Danny could not block them all. His head snapped back and blood appeared on his upper lip. Danny fought back but his jabs seemed half speed now that Harper was doing his best.
Halfway through the round, Harper landed a heavy right to the stomach. Danny’s guard slipped and a lightning-fast combination — left, left, right, left — poured in on his unprotected head, the last punch dropping him to his knees.
There was a roar from the watchers as Danny got up fast, too fast, and moved in with a furious counterattack, most of which was absorbed by Harper’s arms and gloves. The champion’s blows continued to land and Danny’s left eye began to close.
With half a minute left, Harper crossed a perfectly timed right that stretched Danny White on his back. He rolled over and got to his feet at the count of eight.
Axel Steele screamed at Malloy over the roar of the spectators. “You got a towel there? Throw it in!”
Malloy had the towel raised, but Danny forced his way past Steele and ran at Harper, who found it easy to put in a right and a left that stopped his man rigid and dropped him again to one knee.
Axel Steele raised his arms as the gong sounded. “That’s all. The fight is over. If it ever started.”
As the Harper camp cheered, Hanneford helped Malloy guide Danny back to his chair. “Why are we stopping?” Danny said.
“It’s over, Danny. You gotta forget about it,” Harper said.
“I can do better than that. I’m better than you saw...”
“It’s in your mind, man, you have to realize that.” Harper’s voice was almost shy. “I don’t want to put you down, Danny, but you were easy. You’re rusty after your lay-off but even so, I can tell. On your best day you couldn’t hurt me.”
Danny felt anger and humiliation and a frightening sense of impotence.
“I wanted to do you a favor,” Harper said. “Some favor.”
Axel Steele had removed his shiny necktie and now he was putting it back on, adjusting the knot fastidiously. “Leave him,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”