Steel Read Free

the heavy Maxo across the street that was still so hot they could feel it through their shoes. Kelly started sweating right away and licking at his upper lip.
    â€œGod, how d’they live out here?” he asked.
    When they were putting Maxo inside the cab the base wheel came out again and Pole, with a snarl, kicked it away.
    â€œWhat’re ya doin’? ” Kelly asked.
    â€œOh … sh—” Pole got into the taxi and slumped back against the warm leather of the seat while Kelly hurried over the soft tar pavement and picked up the wheel.
    â€œChris- sake ,” Kelly muttered as he got in the cab. “What’s the—?”
    â€œWhere to, chief?” the driver asked.
    â€œKruger Stadium,” Kelly said.
    â€œYou’re there.” The cab driver pushed in the rotor button and the car glided away from the curb.
    â€œWhat the hell’s wrong with you?” Kelly asked Pole in a low voice. “We wait more’n half a damn year t’get us a bout and you been nothin’ but bellyaches from the start.”
    â€œSome bout,” said Pole. “Maynard, Kansas—the prizefightin’ center o’ the nation.”
    â€œIt’s a start, ain’t it?” Kelly said. “It’ll keep us in coffee ’n’ cakes a while, won’t it? It’ll put Maxo back in shape. And if we take it, it could lead to—”
    Pole glanced over disgustedly.
    â€œI don’t get you,” Kelly said quietly. “He’s our fighter. What’re ya writin’ ’im off for? Don’t ya want ’im t’win?”
    â€œI’m a class-A mechanic, Steel,” Pole said in his falsely patient voice. “I’m not a day-dreamin’ kid. We got a piece o’ dead iron here, not a B-seven. It’s simple mechanics, Steel, that’s all. Maxo’ll be lucky if he comes out o’ that ring with his head still on.”
    Kelly turned away angrily.
    â€œIt’s a starter B-seven,” he muttered. “Full o’ kinks. Full of ’em.”
    â€œSure, sure,” said Pole.
    They sat silently a while looking out the window, Maxo between them, the broad steel shoulders bumping against theirs. Kelly stared at the building, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap as if he was getting ready to go fifteen rounds.
    â€œThat a B-fighter ya got there?” the driver asked over his shoulder.
    Kelly started and looked forward. He managed a smile.
    â€œThat’s right,” he said.
    â€œFightin’ t’night?”
    â€œYeah. Battling Maxo. Maybe ya heard of ’im.”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œHe was almost light heavyweight champ once,” said Kelly.
    â€œThat right?”
    â€œYes, sir. Ya heard o’ Dimsy the Rock, ain’t ya?”
    â€œDon’t think so.”
    â€œWell, Dimsy the—”
    Kelly stopped and glanced over at Pole who was shifting irritably on the seat.
    â€œDimsy the Rock was number three in the light heavy ranks. Right on his way t’the top they all said. Well, my boy put ’im away in the fourth round. Left-crossed ’im— bang! Almost put Dimsy through the ropes. It was beautiful.”
    â€œThat right?” asked the driver.
    â€œYes sir. You get a chance, stop by t’night at the stadium. You’ll see a good fight.”
    â€œHave you seen this Maynard Flash?” Pole asked the driver suddenly.
    â€œThe Flash? You bet. Man, there’s a fighter on his way. Won seven straight. He’ll be up there soon, ya can bet ya life. Matter o’ fact he’s fightin’ t’night too. With some B-two heap from back East I hear.”
    The driver snickered. “Flash’ll slaughter ’im,” he said.
    Kelly stared at the back of the driver’s head, the skin tight across his cheek bones.
    â€œYeah?” he said, flatly.
    â€œMan, he’ll—”
    The driver broke off suddenly and looked