Read Online City by Alessandro Baricco - Free Book Online Page B

eyebrow’s a mess, Maestro.”
    â€œGo slow, just the same, for God’s sake . . . listen Larry, are you listening to me?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIf you don’t stop playing the little rich kid that guy will send you home with somebody else’s face.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWould you like to have somebody else’s face?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBreathe . . . like this, Mr. Mama’s boy.”
    â€œI am not a . . .”
    â€œYES, YOU ARE, YOU FUCKING MAMA’S BOY, breathe . . . give him some water . . . WATER . . . listen to me, are you listening to me? You won’t beat him if you stand there waiting, get it?”
    â€œ. . .”
    â€œShorten up, Larry, you have to get inside there and stay with his punches, you have to look for those punches, understand, stop running, you’re not here to look good in the photos, watch for his punches, NO MORE WATER, when you feel his fists then you’re at the right distance, that’s where you have to work, left to the liver and uppercut, that guy’s got a defense you could drive a truck through, LARRY!”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGo with his punches and then hit him. Repeat after me.”
    â€œMy hand . . . my hand hurts.”
    â€œREPEAT IT, BY GOD!”
    â€œGo with his punches . . .”
    â€œGo with his punches, Larry.”
    DONG!
    â€œFuck you, Larry!”
    â€œ. . . fuck.”
    Third round here in the ring at the Toyota Master Building, Larry Gorman and León Sobilo, scheduled for eight rounds, Gorman’s face already looks tired, Sobilo stays in the center of the ring . . . in his usual position, not too refined but effective . . . a great fighter, remember his match with Harder . . . twelve brutal rounds . . . left jab from Sobilo, another jab . . . Gorman backpedals, Gorman at the ropes, then he slides down, gracefully . . .
    â€œWHAT WAS THAT, LARRY? YOU’RE NOT DANCING THE TANGO, FOR GOD’S SAKE.”
    Sobilo doesn’t ease up, again with the jab, and again . . . right hook, DOUBLES WITH THE LEFT, GORMAN WAVERS . . . LOOKS FOR THE CORNER, BOTH STANDING . . . Sobilo on the attack, Gorman crouching in the corner . . .
    â€œNOW, LARRY!”
    UPPERCUT FROM GORMAN, RIGHT HOOK, LEFT TO THE BODY, SOBILO SEEMS TO BE HIT HARD, BACKS UP TOWARD THE CENTER OF THE RING
    FINISH HIM LARRY, FUCK, NOW...
    Gorman presses him . . . holds his arms down at his sides, a really weird sight, all you folks out there listening . . . Sobilo stops . . . Gorman’s torso wobbles, he still has his arms lowered . . . jab from Sobilo, Gorman ducks, AND GETS INSIDE
    SOBILO’S DEFENSE
    RIGHT
    STRAIGHT RIGHT
    LEFT
    LEFT HO OK . . .
    AND RIGHT
    RIGHT HOOK, SOBILO TO THE CANVAS, TO THE CANVAS, SOBILO GOES DOWN, A DEADLY COMBINATION, SOBILO TO THE CANVAS, HE DOESN’T SEEM TO HAVE THE STRENGTH TO GET UP . . . RIGHT LEFT RIGHT WITH DIZZYING SPEED . . . SOBILO TRIES TO GET UP . . . GETS UP, SOBILO ON HIS FEET, THE COUNT IS OVER, SOBILO ON HIS FEET BUT IT’S OVER, IT’S OVER, THE REFEREE STOPS THE FIGHT, IT’S OVER, AT A MINUTE AND SIXTEEN SECONDS INTO THE THIRD ROUND, TECHNICAL KNOCKOUT, ALL YOU LISTENERS OUT THERE, ONE AMAZING BURST WAS ENOUGH FOR LARRY GORMAN TO CARRY OFF THE VICTORY HERE AT THE TOYOTA MASTER BUILDING . . .
    â€œWhere the fuck did you learn that tango step?”
    â€œIn college, Maestro.”
    â€œDon’t bullshit me.”
    â€œI’ll teach you if you want.”
    â€œPut this on, let’s go.”
    â€œWhose face do I have?”
    â€œYours.”
    â€œOK.”
    Sound of running water. Then the faucet, and brushing of teeth. Then nothing. The door opened and Gould was in his pajamas. Shatzy stood there motionless, looking at him.
    â€œAnd what was that?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat TV.”
    â€œIt’s a radio.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œUgly son of a bitch, that