Archie, his trainer, came into the locker room. He was an ex-navy man who ran a men’s health club downtown and picked up extra money as a part-time trainer. He wore white duck trousers, a T-shirt, and white low-topped tennis shoes. He had a thick chest and shoulders and biceps, and his face was tanned and part of his brown hair had been bleached out by the sun.
“You’re early tonight,” he said.
“I’m stiff. I need a rubdown.”
“I saw the dago in the hall. He says he’s going to crack you open.”
“What do you think?”
“I’ve never seen him fight before.”
“They say he’s good,” Toussaint said.
“He’s a ham and egg boy.”
“I want to get him fast. I don’t want no decision tonight.”
“He’s going to have the reach on you. You’ll have to get under him.”
“Where’s Ruth?” Ruth was Toussaint’s manager.
“Down at ringside with the money boys. They’ll be watching you.”
“What are the gamblers giving?”
“Two to one on you.”
“I wish I seen this boy fight before,” Toussaint said.
“How do you feel?”
“Tight.”
“Lay down. I’ll work on your back.”
Archie massaged his shoulders and taped his hands. Some of the other preliminary fighters came into the locker room and began dressing. The buzzer sounded for the first bout. One of the fighters left with his trainer. Fifteen minutes later they were back. The fighter was bleeding from the nose and mouth. He slammed the door and threw his robe into a locker. His chest and stomach were covered with red welts. He lay back on the rubbing table.
“I tell you he had oil on his gloves. I couldn’t see what I was doing,” he said.
His trainer pinched the bridge of his nose to coagulate the blood.
“Every time I got in close he slapped me across the eyes. It ain’t right.”
“You were lucky to last three rounds. He had it all over you,” his trainer said.
“I could have chewed him up and spit him out if he fought fair,” he said, still bleeding from the nose.
“Did Ruth say anything about talking with the promoters?” Toussaint said.
“They’ll give you a ten-round bout next month if you knock over the dago,” Archie said.
“I got to get out of the prelims before long. I ain’t got many years left fighting.”
“How does your back feel now?”
“I’m okay.” He rolled his arms and shoulders.
“You don’t pick up any fat on the docks.”