Out of Sight

"The Brown Bomber," Foley said, "it sounds racist. You have to be careful these days, you can sound like a racist without even trying.

Anyway, the guy said if Snoopy Miller's in the fight game we might find him at the Kronk gym, it's where Thomas Hearns trained. I saw the Hit Man get the decision over Benitez in New Orleans, I happened to be home. I asked him where the Kronk gym was, he said he didn't know.

Somewhere on the west side."

"I was an east sider Buddy said, turning to the window.

"Look out there. You ever see so much glass in your life? All those buildings over there, like giant tubes of glass. The tallest one's the hotel, the Westin. There's a restaurant and cocktail lounge on top, something like seventy floors up, turns around real slow-you don't even feel it. You're looking out at the Motor City, have another drink, you're looking across the river at Canada. You want, we could go up there, get a good look at the city."

"From what I've seen," Foley said, "it looks deserted, like everybody left town."

"It's Sunday, Jack, everybody's home watching the game.

You want to go over to the Westin, see what's there? Maybe go up to the top?"

"If we didn't have to go outside."

"It's not that cold. You know what you do? Relax your body.

Don't hunch up, swing your arms, keep your blood moving and it doesn't seem as cold."

"Who told you that?"

"I think it was my sister. She knows things like that."

"Living in sunny California. That's where we oughta be, 'stead of here at the fucking North Pole."

"Wait a minute," Buddy said, "we don't have to go outside.

That glass thing that goes across Jefferson, it's like a bridge you walk across from our hotel to the RenCen."

"What's the RenCen?"

"The Renaissance Center, those glass tubes over there. Tell me what you want to do."

"I don't know," Foley said.

"What do you do in Detroit on a Sunday when you can't think of anything and the banks are closed?"

Foley sipped his drink.

"I know where I want to go tomorrow."

"Yeah, where?"

"The Kronk gym."

SIXTEEN

The first thing Maurice said to Glenn was, "Uh-unh, you don't call me Snoopy. I don't answer to that Snoopy shit no more." Later on in the car he said, "I let White Boy call me Maury sometime if I'm in the mood. White Boy Bob's my all-around man, my bodyguard when I feel I need one, and my driver."

Right now he was driving the '94 Lincoln Town Car Glenn had brought from Florida and Maurice had fixed up with a Michigan license plate and what he said were clean papers, Glenn not sure now if it was his car or belonged to this dude wearing a lavender do-rag bandanna, this ex-con who used to be known as Snoopy.

White Boy didn't seem to pay any attention to Maurice and Glenn in the backseat talking about him. Driving out to the suburbs on a cold, sunless afternoon, all the way out Woodward Avenue from downtown to show Glenn Mr. Ripley's house in Bloomfield Hills.

"White Boy," Maurice said, "never made it as a pro, even though he can be a mean and vicious motherfucker. See, but if a fighter works in and gives him a good shot, White Boy's eyes cross and he don't know where he's at. I'm talking about in the ring, you understand, where you have to go by the rules. You mess with him on the street it's a whole different situation.

Look at him, the shoulders, a size twenty neck on him. White Boy Bob stands six-four and goes two-fifty, can put his fist through a plaster wall. I've seen it." Maurice said, "White Boy," raising his voice,

"tell Glenn the reason you went down on that burglary that time."

Glenn saw White Boy Bob look up at the mirror.

"I left my wallet in the house I robbed."

Glenn saw him grinning now in the mirror.

"Come out of his pocket," Maurice said, "as he's climbing through the window. Takes the TV, the VCR, some other shit and leaves his wallet on the floor. The police come by to see him.

"You lose this, Bob?" White Boy goes, "Yeah, I guess I did," not thinking where he might've left it. Got sent to Huron Valley." Maurice raised his voice again.

"What was it, two years you done that time?"

"Twenty-two months."

Glenn watched him looking at the mirror and Maurice said, "Watch the road, Boy." He said to Glenn, "I like this Town Car. We can cruise the man's neighborhood without getting the police or the private security people on our ass. Understand what I'm saying?"

Glenn said, "Sure, right, they see Bigfoot driving around a black guy wearing shades and a lavender fucking bandanna, no, they won't think anything of it."

Maurice said, "It's lilac, man, the color, and the style's made known by Deion and other defensive backs in the pros. I could be one of them living out here with doctors of my race and basketball players. Man, all you need is money. Here, this road we coming to… What is it, White Boy?"

"Big Beaver," White Boy said, grinning at the mirror.