Perris checked his watch against the clock on the wall and neither one gave him the time he wanted. It was a slow day at work, and the fact that Perris was eager for it to be over just made it that much slower. He'd straightened out the walk-in box where the cold beer, wine, and drinks were displayed several times already and had even taken the extreme measure of dusting all the bottles on the shelves behind the register.
     The magazines were in order, the cigarettes all stocked up from the supply in the back, and the bank deposit already begun. The only thing left to do was to wait for Mort to arrive to begin his shift, and Perris could take off. But that was still close to half an hour away.
     Last night, Perris thought, had been an unqualified success. After he'd talked Scott and Earl into the fight, he'd returned to his frat house a triumphant warrior. His brothers revered him, anyway, because of this job and the ready access he had to liquor and smokes, two of their more popular vices. Ever since he'd landed this job there'd been a steady supply of both, and he'd done an extra measure of work in introducing his brothers to a wide assortment of liquor. He got a discount at the store, and he liked it enough that he rarely stole anything other than the occasional candy bar or bag of chips.
     But he could use his discount to buy everything his fraternity needed, and he frequently did that. The owner knew about it all and had no trouble with it, since he still made some money on the sales. This store wouldn't sell anything to the house in normal circumstances, since it was halfway across town from the campus, so any little profit was just that much extra income.
     After he'd unloaded his car of a couple cases of beer, a few cartons of cigarettes, and a stack of porno mags, Perris called his brothers together to make his annoucement. They'd been talking for a couple weeks about hosting fights, and Perris was the second one to line up some combatants. Last week Blake had picked up a couple drunks from under a freeway overpass and the fraternity had given them twenty bucks each to duke it out.
     There'd been much more stumbling and wild swinging then actual fighting, but the boys had loved it and had made a pretty good chunk of change selling some tickets. The bums were happy, this was good money for them, and Phi Psi Rho was happy with the entertainment received at their expense.
     When Perris had announced that he had a grudge fight ready for the next night, the house had cheered. He'd stressed that this wasn't a couple of bums off the street, but two "regular guys" who hated each other's guts. This was going to be a real fight, he'd predicted, and he'd reminded them to get everything ready by 6:30, when the fighters would arrive when he'd left for work that morning.
     He'd called the house a few times during the day, making sure that all was in readiness, and by five they had everything they needed except another keg, a box of cigars, some Sapphire gin for Simone, and the fighters. The keg was in the walk-in, and Perris would load that into the trunk of his car when he left work. The cigars were on the counter, and the fighters, he hoped, were resting up or warming up or whatever it was that they would do before the fight.
     He fiddled with the displays on the counter, the various trading cards and mint and trinket presentations, and was printing up a batch of lotto winning number sheets when he saw Vicky come up to the counter. She was dressed in a light cotton dress, a bit inappropriately.
     "Perris?" she asked. "Do you have a minute?" She had a bag of butterscotch disks in her hand, but didn't put them on the counter. Maybe they were just a ruse, Perris thought.
     He had misgivings about her being here. It had been surprisingly easy to talk Earl and Scott into the fight, but Perris remembered that Vicky seemed to be, at best, lukewarm to the idea. Maybe it was the way she was, he thought, since he knew plenty of other women who liked fights, including his girlfriend Simone.
     "I'm pretty busy," he lied. "But what can I do for you? Is it about tonight?"
     "It is," she answered. She shifted the candies from one hand to the other, and used the free one to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Have you talked to Earl?"
     Perris whitened. It was too late to find any other fighters, and he had a fear that Earl had changed his mind. He shook his head.
     "Or to Scott?" At this Perris brightened a bit. Maybe she was simply trolling for information, and hadn't heard from either of his combatants that they were having second thoughts.
     "No," he said. "I haven't seen either one of them, either."
     "Well, Earl's been mysterious all day," she said. "I haven't seen him, either, and usually he's either sitting in his room or hanging out in front of the motel. His door's been closed all day, and I'm worried." Her stare that had been fixed on Perris wavered for a moment, as if a thin sheet of water had washed over her face.
     "I think there's lots of times when he'd be in his room with the door shut," Perris said. He was thinking about the box. He hadn't looked in it, but had a pretty good idea that it contained drugs. He'd been surprised by the weight, and had correctly assumed that a gun or something like that was in there, too.
     Perris hadn't bothered with the box for a couple reasons. One, while he was naturally curious, it wasn't too great a mystery what someone like Earl would have in a cigar box. The fraternity brothers who got high, and that was most of them, kept their stashes in cigar boxes or something like that. Also, Perris knew, he hadn't looked because he didn't want the temptation.
     The main reason he hadn't investigated, though, was because he'd seen the box as a godsend. When Earl had presented it to him, Perris had instantly seen it as a way of doing Earl a favor. He lept at the chance because it would put Earl mildly in his debt, which Perris might have needed to get him to agree to the fight.
     He'd figured, correctly, that Scott was no trouble. He was pissed at Earl and also convinced that he could whip Earl's ass any time. It hadn't taken anything more than the suggestion for Scott to agree. As it turned out, Earl hadn't needed much convincing, either, and that surprised Perris.
     It was obvious that Earl wasn't fit, but maybe like a lot of fat men he felt he was strong. There was always the chance that somewhere under those insulating layers of fat that a muscle or two existed, but Perris didn't really think so.
     "I wouldn't worry about Earl if I were you," he said. "He's a big boy."
     "That's just it," Vicky said. "He's a boy. Last night, after you left, we went out to eat and I got to talk to him. I'd never done that before, never did much other than wave, and I found out a few things about him."
     "Such as?"
     Vicky blinked. "Some personal things."
     "Oh, I see," Perris said, who didn't, really.
     "I think part of him wants to have this fight, but he feels mostly like it's something he has to do."
     "There's nothing wrong with that," Perris said. "We all have things we have to do."
     "But he doesn't really have to do this, he just thinks he does."
     "Why would he think that?" Perris was no longer too worried about Earl quitting on him, but he found this interesting.
     Vicky laid the bag of butterscotch on the counter. "Maybe because of me."
     "You?"
     "Maybe he feels like it's something he has to do to prove himself to me, or to show me how tough he is."
     Perris nodded. He could see that. He looked at Vicky a little more closely and could see how Earl could be attracted to her. She was a little too big in the thighs for Perris, but she had a great set of boobs and a cute face.
     "I don't know about any of that," Perris said. "But he may think he has something to prove to Scott."
     Vicky said nothing, but reached in her pocket, pulled out a dollar bill, and laid it on the counter."How much for the candy?"
     "Seventy-nine cents," Perris answered, ringing up the sale and taking the dollar.
     "Wow, that's a lot."
     He handed her the change and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess."
     Vicky counted her change carefully before putting it back in her pocket. "I'm going to go see if I can find Earl. I'm going to come tonight, and I hope that I can keep anybody from getting hurt."
     Perris looked at the clock. He still had fifteen or twenty minutes before six, when he was supposed to pick Earl up. He was going to stop off at Scott's room, who was going to drive himself there, and remind him, too. "I should be there in about half an hour."
     "If I can't find him, or I'm not in his room, come and get me at my place. Maybe we'll be there, instead."
     "Which room is that?" Perris asked.
     "106. It's the one in the corner, just down from Earl's."
     "Okay," Perris agreed. "See ya then."
     He watched Vicky turn, her dress flaring slightly with the movement and as she walked out of the store Perris hoped that Earl was getting some of that.
     The next fifteen minutes dragged as slowly as the previous hour had, and when Mort showed up to take over the evening shift.
     "Any news?" the older man asked as he took his place behind the counter.
     "Nah. It's been real quiet."
     "Figures," Mort said. Why he would say that wasn't clear to Perris, but he didn't question it, either.
     "Hey, I'm picking up some stuff for a party tonight. Can you ring it up for me?"
     While Perris was wheeling the keg out to his car, Mort rang up Perris's items. He put the cigars, the gin, and chips and dip in a bag, and when Perris returned the hand truck, he paid the bill.
     "So, what's up with the party?"
     Perris just shrugged. "Just a normal weekend thing." There was no reason that he could see to tell Mort about the fight. He didn't think Mort would object, but since Perris had drafted local talent from the motel next door, Mort might think it was a little too close to home.
     Perris thanked Mort and left the store. He felt like a fool driving next door to the Single Spire Motel, but soon forgot about that. He cruised through the lot and saw Scott's truck. There was an empty spot next to it and Perris parked his Prelude next to it.
     It only took him a minute to run up to Scott's tower room and give him the directions to the frat house. Perris thought that Scott looked pretty fit and confident, and he was glad that Scott was still up for the fight. He wished him well and headed down the staircase and over to Earl's room.
     The door opened as soon as Perris knocked on it. Earl was dressed in a black, white, and gray velour shirt that was old and faded and cut off at the elbows. The shirt hung loose on his frame and over a pair of forest green nylon work out pants that ended a few inches above a pair of heavy work boots. The pants were a couple sizes too small for Earl, and Perris wondered if he'd borrowed them or if he'd bought them in a hurry.
     Vicky was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and looked without any emotion at Perris.
     "Ya guys ready?" he asked, and Earl responded with a mirtless grin and a nod. Vicky was watching Earl, and she untangled her legs and stood up.
     "Let's do it," Earl said, and motioned for everyone to leave the room. He picked up his thin jacket and thrust his arms into the sleeves and quickly opened a drawer on the nightstand. He pulled out a small bag and shoved his hands into the jacket's pockets at his waist.
     Perris stood next to Vicky while Earl locked his door, and he then led them over to his car. Scott was in his truck and Perris nodded at him, but he couldn't see if Earl or Vicky did anything. They let Scott drive off before getting into the car and were soon on their way to the fight.
     "I have to make a stop first," Perris said. Vicky, who was next to him in the passenger seat asked where they were going.
     "I've got to swing by and pick Simone," Perris said. "It's right on the way, so it won't take very long."
     "Who's Simone?" Vicky asked.
     "My girlfriend," Perris answered. "And she gets to sit in the front seat," he added with a grin.
     "Oh, I see," Vicky said. Earl, riding in the back seat, hadn't said a word since getting in the car.
     Perris drove north and, after a few turns, stopped in front of a Victorian style home near the beach about fifteen minutes from the liquor store and the Single Spire Motel. "Just a sec," he said as he left the car and walked up to the door.
     A minute later, he returned, accompanied by a tall, lithe girl with wavy black hair that reached just below her ears. She was wearing a pair of charcoal gray wool slacks, a cream-colored sweater and over that a black linen jacket.
     Vicky got out of the car and crawled into the back seat, next to Earl. Simone settled herself in next to Perris and, after introducing everyone, he drove off again. "We should be there in about half an hour," he said, although no one had asked.
     Simone began telling Perris about her day, which had been spent mostly in her home rearranging her closet. Vicky and Earl sat quietly in the back, and when they got near the campus Vicky began looking around excitedly.
     "What's up?" Perris asked her.
     "We're having a meeting here tonight, and I wonder if I recognize anyone."
     "Oh," Perris answered. Earl said nothing, but Simone turned around in her seat to look at Vicky.
     "Meetings? What meetings?"
     "Scientology," Vicky answered. "It's an applied philosophy that gives you the answers to life's questions."
     "I've heard of it," Simone said flatly.
     "Me, too," Perris said. He negotiated a turn and began slowing down, looking for a place to pull over. "Let's not talk about it."
     Vicky began to say something, but Earl reached over and patted her knee, which quieted her down. Perris pulled into the driveway of a large house and there were already four or five guys milling around in the front yard.
     "This is it," he said, shutting off the car. "Phi Psi Rho."
     "What do we do now?" Vicky asked.
     "We have fun and watch a fight," Perris said.
     Perris called out to a few of his brothers in the yard. He told them about the keg in the trunk, and they quickly descended on that and had it out of his car and began carrying it through the house by the time the passengers were ready to leave. Perris got out and opened the door for Simone, who was waiting for him to do so, and Earl and Vickie climbed out of the back. After they were out, Vickie went back to the car to get the bag, which she'd put on the floor.
     "What's in here?" she asked.
     "Some stuff for the party," Perris answered. He saw Vicky blanch at his calling this evening a party, and regretted having said that. While he and the fraternity saw it as a party with entertainment, he'd forgotten that Vicky had misgivings about the fight. "Cigars and some things to munch on during the fight," he said, hoping to draw a little distinction between frivolity and the evening's match.
     "Any first aid stuff?" she asked and Perris shook his head.
     "Not in the bag, no. We have some stuff in the house. People are alwayss getting hurt, what with one thing or the other, so we have ice packs and all that kind of stuff."
     "Where do we go?" Earl asked, looking around the dirt lot that sloped down to the street from the house and that served as the lawn. It was the first thing he'd said since Perris had picked him up back at the motel. "Are we gonna do it right out here?"
     "No, we have a place in the back for you guys," Perris said. He took the bag from Vicky, threw his free arm around Simone's waist, and began escorting her to the house. "C'mon," he called over his shoulder, "I'll show you guys around."
     They entered the house, walking into a large room with three sagging couches and an assortment of tables and scattered chairs. A handful of people were distributed over the furniture, drinking beer, and they all stopped talking when Earl walked into the room.
     "Wow," someone whispered. "That dude is huge."
     Instead of doing any introductions, Perris hurried his party through the room, into a large and disheveled kitchen, and out a back door. The back yard was already filled with people, all except a roped-off square in the center of the yard. No one was in there, not now, but it was obvious that the fight would take place within its confines.
     A picnic table off to the side supported the weight of a few cases of beer, and the people who'd carried the keg from Perris's car were setting that up in a galvanized basin. While one guy was pouring ice all around the base of the keg, two others were struggling with the tap and many more were standing around, red plastic glasses in their hands.
     In another corner of the yard a group of three or four were clustered around Scott, who looked over when Earl walked into the yard. It looked as if they either chose, or were assigned, to helping Scott out and working as his corner workers. While there wasn't any managers or anything formal like that expected, each fighter was going to have a few people literally in his corner.
     "Are you guys okay?" Perris asked Earl and Vicky.
     "I guess," Earl answered, clenching his jaw. He was swaying slightly form side to side, shifting his weight. "Is there a bathroom around here?"
     "C'mon," Perris said, remembering the package that Earl had slipped into his pocket when they had left his room and grinning. "I'll show you. I need to go to room and change, anyway."
     He led the fat guy back into the house and down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. He showed him the bathroom and told Earl to meet him outside when he was ready.
     Perris ducked into a nearby room and began changing clothes. Five minutes later he walked out of the room dressed in a tuxedo and tennis shoes. He noticed that the bathroom door was open and went in. He couldn't smell anything, but he looked around, and in the trash, under a mess of napkins and toilet paper, Perris spied a single disposable syringe. It didn't really surprise him, but he thought that Earl was a junkie and was afraid that it would make a bad fight.
     He went downstairs and into the backyard, and found Earl in animated conversation with Vicky and Simone. A few of the fraternity brothers were setting up some lights and facing them at the ring in the center of the yard. In each corner there was a post stuck in a large coffee can filled with concrete and half-buried in the yard. Between the posts were three rows of yellow caution tape, which struck Perris as oddly ironic.
     Most of the activity right now was centered on the keg, and Perris helped himself to a glass of beer and walked over to join Simone and the couple from the motel.
     He glanced at his watch and saw that the fight should start in about five minutes. There was a good-sized crowd in the back yard, and many of his brothers came over and slapped Perris on the back or remarked on his attire.
     "It's what you wear to fights," he said. He walked over to the table and pulled the chips and dip out of the bag he was still carrying and laid them on the table. Next to them he set the cigar box down, and after opening it he chose and lit one.
     He grabbed some ice and put it in a cup and poured some of the gin from the bag into it. He swirled the liquid around and walked over to hand the drink to Simone.
     "For me?" she said, taking the cup. She sniffed it and leaned over the cup and gave Perris a kiss. "You're so sweet."
     Perris smiled broadly and kissed her again. "I know my baby," he said, patting her lightly on her butt. He looked around and handed the bag that held the bottle to Vicky. "Would you like one, too?" he asked her.
     "Oh, I don't think so," she answered, but Earl said that he'd like a quick slug of whatever it was.
     "It's gin," Perris told him, but it didn't seem to matter to Earl what it was, who made a reach for the bag.
     "Let me get you a glass," Perris said, averting a disaster. Simone, he knew, would not want Earl drinking from her bottle. He snagged a cup for Earl and sloshed a couple fingers of the liquid into it for him. Earl downed the drink in a swallow, clapped his hands together, and proclaimed himself ready.
     Perris took this as his cue and kissed Simone on the cheek before entering the center of the ring. He called for everyone's attention and, when he'd pretty much gotten it, began speaking in his best ring announcer's voice.
     "Ladie and Gentlemen," he called. "Tonight we have a grudge match, a winner-take-all fight that will determine, once and for all, which of these two men gets to hold his claim. In this corner," he said, pointing at the one nearest Scott and the frat brothers that were helping him get ready, "we have Scott 'Iron Fists' Veeder, weighing in at about one hundred and eighty pounds."
     He turned behind him and looked at Earl, who was stripping off his jacket and whose shirt had rode up over his navel. A large expanse of flabby white flesh appeared before Earl pulled his shirt down. He was now windmilling his arms and his face was still purple from the night before.
     His lip, helped by the cut last night, was curled in an unfriendly grin and Earl looked wild with his slicked-back hair and full, dark beard.
     "And in this corner," Perris called, "weighing in at over two hundred and fifty pounds we have the challenger, Earl 'The Cruiser' Potts." Earl stepped through the bands of caution tape and took his place in the center of the ring, next to Perris. As Scott did the same, a ripple of excitement spread through the crowd and many cigars were lit and many handshakes were made, sealing bets.
     "Tonight's fight," Perris continued, "will be broken up into three-minute rounds. I will be the referree, and we'll have no weapons."
     "What about his boots?" Scott asked, pointing at Earl's feet.
     "What about them?"
     "I'm not wearing mine," Scott said, showing off his tennis shoes. "He shouldn't either."
     "This is a fight, not a fashion match," someone yelled. "Get on with it!"
     Perris shook the hands of the two fighters, asked them to shake each others, and walked to the side of the ring. "Take your corners," he yelled and after the two had done so, a short time later a short, curly-haired frat brother blew an air horn, signifying the start of the first round.