Free Jezebel by Koko Brown

simple question and
Gould effectively knocked the wind from Shane’s wings.
    “ On
the canvas every day,” Shane said. Deflated, he sat back,
putting some distance between them.
    Knowing he’d gotten to
him, Gould became animated. “That a boy!” he said wagging
his finger. “You need to keep up appearances, you know for the
Commission and the press.”
    Shane
snorted. Notoriously corrupt, the New York State Athletic Commission
didn’t care if he ran twenty miles a day or slept in a tub of
beer every night. The press on the other hand shaped the public’s
perception. If the public felt they were duped, they’d be less
inclined to pay any future gates. To the Commission, the take was
the begin all and end all.
    “ Speaking of
appearances…I got wind Johnny Ferruci’s gonna drop by
before the bout.”
    Shane frowned. There wasn’t
anything unusual about that. Boxing promoters always checked out the
fighters on their card.
    Gould stroked his narrow
chin and looked almost contrite. “It might benefit you if he
doesn’t get wind of the company you’re keeping.”
    Shane
knew exactly to whom Gould was referring. Incoherent with rage, he
grabbed the door handle at the same time he pounded the car’s
soft top. They were crossing Manhattan Bridge and the crosswinds
snatched the car from side to side. Shane didn’t care. He’d
take his chances.
    “ Stop the goddam car,”
he yelled.
    The car kept going as if
he’d never said a word.
    With
exaggerated slowness, as if speaking to a child, Gould said, “You
know how Italians are and if Ferruci sees or hears about you mixing
company. He might call the whole thing off. Heck, he might even
black list us. I won’t get made and you’ll never have
another shot at the belt. Instead, you’ll stay on the fringe
fighting exhibitions like some carney.”
    Be
careful what you wish for. Shane spent the past five years wishing for a shot at the Garden and
then one fateful day it fell in his lap. But not in the way he’d
wanted.
    Shane’s gaze drifted
to the window. It was beginning to snow. Flakes danced and brushed
against the car glass. Some stuck, forming a crystal-like cobweb.
Much like the one he’d found himself entangled. Unfortunately,
Shane was too selfish to disentangle himself even when Gould
unwittingly presented him with the best case scenario.
    The coupe slowed, stopping
for a red light. Noting the location, the intersection of Flatbush
and Tillary Avenue, Shane calculated the walk. It was a forty block
hike, in the sleet and snow but he’d endure the elements just
to be done with Gould.
    “ I’ll get out
here and walk the rest of the way,” he said, pulling on the
handle. The door popped open and as Shane alighted, Gould slid over
and took his seat.
    “ I’d
hate for you to get ideas. If Ferruci removes you from his card,
that’s it. No more chances. Z e
nigmar. So, are we on the same page?”
    Shane took his time
buttoning his coat before answering.
    “ Are we on the same page, Brennan?”
    “ Like ink,”
Shane said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and offering up the
phoniest smile he could muster.
    The car pulled away from the
curb, but Shane waited for it to turn the corner before he turned
about and headed back east.

CHAPTER Eight

    “ Rise and shine,”
Celeste chimed, slinging back the heavy brocade curtains in Trudy’s
bedroom windows. She grinned wickedly when her cousin dove under the
chenille bedcover.
    “ I’ve got
breakfast, so get up.”
    Trudy peeked from under the
covers. “What time is it?”
    “ Half past ten.”
    Trudy moaned. “Way too
early, now get out.”
    Celeste ignored her cousin.
She slid the breakfast tray off the dressing table and set it on the
bed between them.
    “ Trudy, please. I’ve
already cleaned the house, visited the grocers and picked up our
order at Green’s.
    “ Did you pick up my
white tux?” Trudy mumbled.
    “ Sure did, now get
up,” Celeste ordered.
    As commanded, yet with the
pace of a