|
|
|
|
|
|
|
three-tiered grandstands facing each other across an opening squared off with ropes. Overhead was a cluster of spotlights hanging from the rafters. Below sat the ten-foot-square pit. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Saul "Muzzy" Mozzicato was talking to another man Jerry knew only as Mooch. On the bar between them was a dish piled high with cuts of blue cheese and coins of pepperoni that Muzzy was eating one after the other, no crackers. In his other hand he held a rum and Coke, the thought of which made Jerry's teeth hum. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Hey, hey," Muzzy sang out. He made a wide, clubby handshake. "Now here's a guy with a dog. I mean, Jaws with paws." He made a wheezy laugh that came from his upper chest. "Name's Rufusyou know, Roof-roof, 'cept he don't bark, just grins and bites your leg off. The mutt's the balls is all." He pumped Jerry's hand. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Muzzy was about five-seven, 280 pounds of hard fat. He wore a white shirt open at the neck, around which hung a chain with a gold pepper. When he laughed, his eyes disappeared into folds of fat, a sole benefit of which was that he did not look like his fifty-two years. What would have been wrinkles in a leaner man was flesh plumped out to a shiny smoothness, now slick with perspiration and pink from years of rum and Cokes and cholesterol canapes. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Why don't you have a real drink, for Chrissakes? I mean, what kind of a time is that health-water shit?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Good for the bowels," Jerry said. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Muzzy looked nonplussed at Mooch. "Good for the bowels," he echoed. "Madone, all you got in there's yogurt and that cracked wheat shit. Your poor bowels, they're probably screaming for ribs and fries." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Mooch." Jerry nodded and shook hands. From what Jerry recalled, Mooch was a bookie from Springfield and one of Muzzy's distant cousins. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"A quarter Rottweiler," Jerry said. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"What the cops in South Africa used against the blacks. Nice combo." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Yeah, but he ain't no ordinary crossbreed," Muzzy said. "Got fucking lion's blood in his veins." |
|
|
|
|
|