The Manager Read Free Page A

can’t even buy a pack of gum without somebody looking over their shoulder. So we agreed that it was nice, for a change, to imagine it was the other person that everyone was staring at.”

CHAPTER THREE
    B y the time June rolled around, I had long since put O’Shea and the evil Dr. Sawbones out of my mind, having no idea that the two of them would soon be back to haunt me. I passed all my final exams and even tried to get Tina to attempt a few herself, but she refused, and Tina making up her mind was a process similar to pouring cement. She said she didn’t want to. Said she didn’t want to listen to teachers berate her for missing classes. Said she didn’t want to be asked, “Where’ve you been ?” and “Are you okay ?” by well-meaning fellow students who, in Tina’s words, were so enchanted with themselves for being nice to her, they floated a foot off the ground and left a trail of light wherever they went. She preferred the artless, uncaring ones from smoker’s corner who laughed when she walked by. At least she could tell them to go to hell.
    School was, for me, a chance to get away from the mouthpieces, gym equipment and B.O. that turned up everywhere in our apartment. Once, when I found a protective cup in our freezer beside the waffles and asked Tina what the heck that was all about, she squinted her eyes and shook her head in disbelief at the stupidity of my question, like I had just asked her why the frozen beans were in there. (It turned out to be an old trick to get a boxer moving when he first stepped into the ring.)
    So when classes finished for the year, and the best respite I could hope for was the occasional moment of peace at Azalea’s, the prospect of two long months of nothing but boxers and boxing was a sobering one. Which explains why I didn’t put up much of an argument when presented with a golden ticket out of the Pier.
    It was early in July when everything was set into motion. I’d put our supper in the oven and gone down to the gym to see if my sister would come to the store with me for a soda. But it was one of those rare occasions when my father was busy with the amateurs, so Tina had a chance to try coaching Flyin’ Ryan, and nothing – fire, flood or earthquake – would get her to move.
    â€œByrne!” she hollered. “Keep your toes in. And you’re forgetting what I told you – as a southpaw, it’s got to work for you, not against you. I don’t care what Sandy said. You’ve got to keep your strong arm for defence right from the get-go. And you’ve got to stay inside for the uppercut. An uppercut from outside loses its power. You know that.”
    â€œYeah.” He ignored my sister, jumped back into the ring and continued sparring with the other boxer.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Tina asked me, but her eyes were on Byrne. “No, no, no,” she said. “You keep letting your right shoulder drop every time, Byrne. And when you’re out there with a real contender, that’s the opening he’ll be looking for, believe me. Do you want to be drinking your meals out of a straw for six weeks? You drop that shoulder to throw an uppercut, and you’ll be taking a left hook to the jaw.”
    â€œDo you want to go to Azalea’s for a pop?”
    â€œNot now, Ellie,” she said through gritted teeth. “Byrne, I’m telling you, if you stay on the outside, he will see that uppercut coming. Your straight right jab can come from a distance, but—”
    â€œWhat the hell are you telling him now?” My father stormed over to Tina and blew his whistle so loud he stopped every boxer in the gym and every car in the city. “I’ve warned you already about giving Byrne advice. He only needs one trainer and that is not you .”
    â€œYou’re teaching him the fancy moves, but you’re forgetting the obvious,” blurted Tina, her eyes