The Chief Read Free Page A

crew?”
    The nurse scowls at her and marches away, but a doctor shows up a few minutes later. “Yes? Sonny Bear?” he says to her.
    â€œI’m Robin Bell, Doctor…”
    â€œDr. Gupte.”
    â€œAnd this is Sonny Bear.” She grabs Dr. Gupte’s sleeve and tugs him over to Sonny. “He’s a professional boxer, he will be on television, and we’re concerned about septic conditions in his eyebrow. The skin needs to be debrided right away, and we have to have small, tight stitches, not much lip. Can you do that?”
    â€œOf course. Please come this way.”
    Alfred winks at Jake, who shakes his head.We follow Sonny and Robin back to the examination room.
    Dr. Gupte and a nurse clean out Sonny’s eyebrow, but when the sewing needle appears I’m out of there. I’m leaning against a wall outside the room, taking deep, queasy breaths, when I hear, “You, too?”
    She’s leaning against the other wall. The skin of her thin face is very white, a sharp contrast to her black hair and to the sprinkle of freckles over her nose. She looks younger, nicer.
    â€œI can’t stand the sight of blood,” I admit.
    â€œThat’s tough for a fighter’s writer.”
    â€œThe sight of Sonny’s blood, really. There hasn’t been a lot of it. He’s good, not like tonight.”
    â€œWhat happened? Why’d he start so flat, as if he didn’t care?”
    I don’t want to get into that, so I ask, “What’s your film about?” These TV types love to talk about their projects, especially if you call them films, which makes them feel like Martin Scorsese.
    â€œWell, it’s about boxing, of course, but it’s also about small-town America and ethnic prideand tribalism and the rites of manhood….”
    â€œSounds like you haven’t figured it out yet,” I say. “I guess if you shoot enough, something’ll develop.”
    Her face gets darker as the blood comes back. Not so nice, but more interesting. “What exactly do you write,” she asks, “ransom notes?”
    â€œThat’s cute.” I decide there’s no point being enemies. “It was supposed to be a book about Sonny becoming the youngest heavyweight champion in history. Two years on the title trail. But we’re sort of running out of time. He’s nineteen years old; he’ll be twenty in January.”
    â€œWho’s your publisher?”
    â€œDon’t have one yet.”
    â€œHas anyone seen any pages?”
    â€œI have to turn in the first few chapters next week to my new advisor.”
    Her eyebrows arch. “You’re in college?”
    â€œI’m trying to get an independent-study semester to finish the book.”
    She looks interested. Her eyes flick over me, leaving warm trails. “Where do you go to school?”
    Just then Alfred rolls out with Jake. Sonny is giving Dr. Gupte and the nurse his autograph. Robin hurries over to be with the star of the show.

4
    W E TRAIL R OBIN’S OLD BMW to an all-night diner just far enough out of town so that we get some strange looks, but nobody hassles us. We settle around a table.
    â€œSo what’s the story with you guys? Where are you…”
    â€œOld story,” says Sonny. “Skip it.”
    â€œNo, I’d like to hear it.”
    Sonny grunts, stands up and stalks to the video games in the front of the diner.
    â€œAll you need to know,” I say, “is that Elston Hubbard is fighting in Las Vegas in two weeks, and if he wins, he’ll get a shot at the title.”
    â€œI know that, I read the papers. So what?”
    â€œTwo years ago, Sonny was supposed to fight Hubbard for the Gotham Gloves championship. He would have beaten him, but he was declared ineligible.”
    â€œDrugs?” She’s making notes, which annoys me. It’s my story.
    â€œNo. He fought some smokers—they’re like pro