I opened the door to Lucky's and glanced around. A few eyes looked up, but turned away quickly, some a little too quickly. As if looking at me meant you had a noose around your neck or something. I see one friendly face who waves me over to a spot next to him at the bar.

Morning Greg. How's work at the docs?

Hey Max. it ain' the same without you there to pick on. Seems to be thought that your running with a rough crowd now a days.

More like running from.

I glance around and watch the same eyes dissappear as they did when I walked into the joint. Curious they were to see me, but scared they were around me. I wondered which of them only thought I was a dead man, and which of them knew it. I nod at the bartender.

Can I get a drink down here?

He pours me a tall cold one of what he calls "frothy apple juice". Sure, might as well keep up the pretenses. It's not as if Lucky's was worried about getting busted for violating the prohibition act. It was plain knowledge that they served it, and people came here to drink it. The law didn't do anything about it, simply because of fear of what would happen if Lucky's got shut down. At least with it up and running, they knew where the vile underbelly of the city was hanging out. The bartender puts my drink in front of me, I reach into the my pocket to pay him.

It's on me. You had any luck finding any other work? Greg asks, throwing some change on the counter. I take a sip before responding.

Thanks. Nah, I haven't been looking. More in fear of my life then anything else. Seems like everyone is breaking the fourth wall around here and putting a guilty sign on me even before I get a chance to talk with them. It feels like I'm boxed in, getting framed for things or being suspected that I am the one framing things or what not, I just don't know. I'm not a carpenter so what do I know about framing, right? I spill out to him. Greg was one of the boys I knew I could trust, as if he was family.

Right. You catch the word on the sparring match? Greg changed topics. He probably only asked to make sure I was okay, not to dive too deeply into details. I was happy to oblige.

Yeah, cheap shot that was. Still, you have to be foolish to think you can climb into the ring with the champ and can get away with all your bones in place. The champ had a reputation of putting more people into disability then not.

Exactly how foolish do you think someone would have to be?

Pretty darn...hey, why you grinning like that? You didn't sign up to fight did you? I asked. Greg had a cheesey grin on his mug, as if he'd done something stupid without realizing it.

Purse is big money. Soon I'll have enough to get out of this town, but it'll be quicker to go at it this way. Just need to survive the match and I'll have enough scratch to get away from here.

He had. Damn.

Yeah, that's what I'm worried about, Surviving! Are you crazy? You know I've heard rumors that he puts weights in his gloves. The refs paid off to "not notice" and from what I've seen, turns a blind eye more often then not.

Well maybe you can help. You got 'connections" right? Greg says, chuckling with amusement. I wasn't amsued.

All I have is notes and a few bruises, nothing that could help you out. Just tell me you'll be careful....

Way I see it, sooner or later the Champs gotta go down. Bookies set the odds 20-1 for anyone to go aganst him. Sure, perhaps the powers that be might be sick of the Champ winning, but I sure wouldn't want to be the one to go and test it out.

That's a bet you won't see me take. Sooner throw money into the ocean and hope it returns. He was set, and there was no way I was going to talk him out of it.

Whatever works for you Max. Well, I gotta run, get some training in and what not.

Thanks for the drink Greg. Take care.

I watched the big lug get up and stumble slightly on his way out. Loveable guy he was, hard worker too. I'm gonna miss him. I turn back and look at the mirror on the back of the bar. My thoughts return to the circumstance at hand as I lose myself into my own gaze.