Chapter 8
"A blood test. A blood test, or we don't even talk."
"Now wait a damn minute, here! "You know those things are inconclusive. "And we have here a body of fact, a body of evidence-"
"The blood test, or we see you in court."
"Now wait a second, Charley!
"You takin' a real chance here, ain't cha?"
"You heard me, Farley. "And I know I'm taking a chance. "I'm taking chances and you're making assumptions."
"Such as?"
"Such as the champ's unwillingness to do the right thing."
"He bettah he willin' ta do-"
"See what I mean, Farley?
"I mean his willingness to do the right thing as you and your ... client define it."
"Spell that out, will ya, Charley?"
"Obviously, there is a case to be made for the very real possibility that Teddy is, in fact, the father of your client's unborn child.
"Should you make a sufficiently cogent presentation of the situation, my client is fully prepared to render adequate compensation.
"The blood test, Farley.
"Then we talk."
Silence.
Then, "Y'know, Charley, fo' a white boy, you ain' half bad ta do bizniss wif."
"No comment.
"Blood tests and then we talk." And the line goes dead.
Farley looks at the dead phone, smiling, then over at Willy.
"Lookin' good, bro', " he says.
"Not if fuckin' blood tests fuck it up it ain'tblood."
"In which case, we go to Plan B."
"Don' wanna heah 'bout no fuckin' Plan B."
Plan B.
Love affair, intercourse, but no offspring.
And Teddy gets off very, very cheaply.
A nuisance award, more to avoid distraction and ' scandal than an acknowledgement of any obligation.
Fifty big ones. Maybe.
When, with a child involved, no way is Willy not looking at eight figures.
"Me neithah, bro'. Thass jus' whut choo calls yo' wors' case scenario."
"Yeah, well-"
"Hey, man, you think I don't wanna get ri-get compensated fo' de max?
"Don' choo be gittin' on ma case 'til we gits off dis one, okay?"
"You bes' not fuck it up, Fah-lee."
"Tell me about it!
"Okay, enough frettin' an' fussin'.
"You heard my esteemed colleague.
"Blood tes' an' git back ta me."
"Okay, okay!"
Positive!
Posi-fuckin'-tive! And Willy cannot believe it. Who would of thought. And AB positive at that.
One in a thousand blood type, Farley explained over the telephone, ecstatic at the prospect of an astronomical fee for which he need preside over one hopefully brief meeting.
Tell me that fucker's inconclusive! he thinks.
And now, dressed in a three-piece suit, he is on his way to Farley's office.
With Ginny Mae.
He has wanted to leave her out of it, but Farley told him she would have to be there in case something has to be signed. .
And now, getting off the subway, going into Farley's office, holding the door for Ginny Mae, he feels his groin tingling in anticipation.
"Will-ee!"
And Farley shakes Willy's hand firmly.
And gallantly bends down, seizing Ginny Mae's hand, kissing the back of her wrist.
"Ouah, uh, guests are heah, in de con'frince room," Farley says.
And ushers them in.
"Where's, where's-" Ginny Mae begins.
"Willy, Virginia, this here's the champ's lawyah, Charles McFee an' his associate, uh, sorry."
"Sacchi. Ben Sacchi," the dark, chubby young man says, nodding.
"I'm here to teach my young friend here how to give gracefully," Charley says.
"Teddy's not gon' be here?" Ginny Mae asks.
"Well, in a manner of speaking, he is, Virginia," Charley says, peering at her over the tops of his bifocals. "I mean, I am fully empowered to represent him."
"Oh. Thass okay, then."
"Glad you approve," Charley replies dryly.
He clears his throat.
"Now then, I have drawn up the form of agreement and inserted therein a lump sum, one time payment.
"Naturally, this entails a quit claim clause in consideration."
"That means whut ah thinks it do, an' you done wasted a lotta pay-puh, friend."
Charley looks at Willy.
"And you are here in what capacity, sir?"
"Fren' of de fam'ly."
Ginny Mae looks at him, surprised.
He looks back at her, adding hastily, "An' step fathah of V'ginia, of course."
"Whatever you are, sir, I must tell you that you, or more properly Virginia, would have to be totally insane to turn this down.
"This figure is astronomical in a situation of this nature.
"I have not seen its like in all my years of practice. "You are over eighteen, are you not, young lady?" She nods.
"Then the decision, the right to decide, is legally yours, and I strongly recommend against abrogation of that right."
She looks at him, expressionless.
Then, "What's this say, Mr. Farley?" she asks.
"It says that no later than five days from now, Robinson Enterprises agrees to pay you the sum of twelve million dollars, in return for your relieving my client permanently of all liability or responsibility in connection with events occurring during or as a result of time spent with him."
"Y'see, babe, thass whut ain' no goo-"
"Shut up, Willy."
Then, to Farley, "In othah words, I get twelve million, out of which you get-"
"Ah, we need not bother present company with the details of my retention, heh, heh."
"Still comes out okay.
"Where do I sign?"
Farley beams, ear to ear.
"Five copies, right here wheah you see the X."
"Oh, an' fo' times here wheah you vacates the procedings in consideration of et cetera an' like that."
"Movin' too fas', babe," Willy warns.
Everyone ignores him.
Farley hands her copies of the two documents she has signed.
She notices that Teddy's signature is already on the agreement.
"When may we expect-" Farley begins.
"I have the check right here," Charley says, pulling the item in question from his briefcase and handing it to Farley. "As you can see, it is made out to you as attorney for Virginia here, in the full amount."
"Excellent!
Farley stands, hand thrust out.
Charley and Sacchi shake with him and file out.
"Come on into the office an' I will give you your money," Farley says to Ginny Mae.
He motions them to chairs as he sits at his desk, writing Ginny Mae a check for nine million dollars.
"I would suggest you open an account with this in a full service bank today, then disperse the money in, say, million dollar increments among nine banks until you can line up an investment advisor.
"You are now a very wealthy young lady.
"It will take approximately three days for the check to clear, but there will be no problem.
"I'll deposit this one this morning, just across the street."
"Ginny Mae, why don't choo jus' wait outside a minute whilst Fahley an' mase'f go ovah a few thangs?"
"Not necessary," Farley replies. "I am retired, as of the end of the week.
"If you require advice of council, Willy, I'd be glad to refer you."
"Wise-ass sumbitch," Willy mumbles, "le's go, Ginny Mae."
"Ees for de champ, Meez Seent'ia," Juanita says. Cynthia hands him the phone from the end table as Juanita hangs up the hall extension. "Yeah."
"Done."
"Thanks, Charley."
"I still think it was nuts.
"For that kinda money, we coulda forced a DNA test and-"
"Case closed, Charley, and I never want to hear about it again, okay?"
"You got it, Champ.
"You look at the deal with Barrington?"
"You got what you wanted."
"Ever any question but what I would?
"Guy loses, he gets six mil."
"And if you do, you get half what you just gave away."
"Y'see, thass whut-I mean, that's what you don't understand, Charley.
"What I just gave away leaves me no option. I gotta win now."
Charley sighs.
"Yeah, Champ, twenty mil should make you well real fast."
""Specially since I ain't all that poor ta begin with. "Believe me, Charley, this was the way to go."
"Whatever you say. Ciao, Champ."
"Talk to ya."
He hands the phone back to Cynthia, who returns it to the end table.
They don't understand, any of them.
They don't know that he has wanted to cancel out this last bout, from the training that preceded it to the purse he won.
They cannot suspect that this is his penance, his expiation for killing Johnson.
This is his tribute, his memorial to him.
And the only way to know to compensate for the fact that, try as he might, he feels no guilt, no remorse, nothing.
And now, he appreciates Cynthia more than ever.
Of all the people he knows, she alone has not tried to talk him out of his spur of the moment decision, has not called him a nut case or an imbecile.
Take the fucking purse, whatever it was, and give it to the black girl, the death of whose dreams was the precursor of Johnson's fate.
And he is responsible for both.
And feels his lack of feeling for both.
So that he will negate his gains, killing two birds with one stone.
He has cancelled the entire episode.
And restored to himself the imperative to win at all costs to his next opponent.
He is ready, on that score.
And now, he is here with Cynthia, relaxing in her penthouse, hers and Chipper's.
And Chipper is once more delayed, this time in Europe.
So that the place is all hers and the champ's, their play house, their rumpus room, to do with as they will.
And he has challenged her.
"Show me somethin' I ain't seen before."
"Are you sure?"
"Whatever it is, I'm up for it." Because he is bored.
The next fight is too remote, too far away.
He cannot feel it, cannot feel the tingle of anticipation, cannot experience the brouhaha that precedes the pre-fight interviews at the training camp, the articles, the speculation by and in the media.
And Cynthia has told him of the special parties she arranges for Chipper's homecomings.
She has told him of the services she obtains from Bruce and his escort service.
But he is not interested in catered sex. Pro's are out.
Still, he wants-something. Hence, the challenge.
Which she has accepted, with only this one restriction. Tonight.
Tonight, after supper, his surprise. And he has every confidence in her. She has become his companion out of boredom, after all.
And she has had much more experience being bored for much longer periods of time than has he.
And she has obviously taken very good care of herself, which can only mean that she has taken care of her boredom.
And if she can take care of a wealthy, pampered, sophisticated person such as herself, then it stands to reason that she will have no problem satisfying him.
"Lunch ees served," Juanita announces. They eat lightly.
They will jog this afternoon, side by side through the streets to the park, through the park and back.
And they will clean up and have a light supper, casually dressed in their bathrobes.
And Juanita and Rufe will be dismissed for the evening.
And then, it will happen.
Teddy is at a loss, unable to even speculate at what she has in mind. The intercom.
She gets it and returns to sit beside him on the couch.
Both of them are naked beneath their robes. Bing-bong.
And Cynthia goes to the landing. And Teddy stands up, ready for whatever comes next.
Still, he is not prepared for Steve, muscles bulging in white t-shirt, his sweat pants stretched tight by his bulging leg muscles.
"Champ," Steve says, perfect smile radiant in his suntanned face, as he advances, hand outstretched, "this is a real honor!"
They shake hands vigorously.
"Don't I know you?"
"Two times Mister Galaxy, if you follow the iron game," he replies. "Sure! Sure!
"But, uh, you lost last year, didn't you."
"Well, came in second." And he smiles.
"Same thing in your book, though, right?
"I mean, in war and boxing, there's no such thing as coming in second." They laugh.
"Well, you lookin' good, anyway."
"Oh, I'll get it back this fall."
"How do you know?" Cynthia asks.
"How do I know? Ask Teddy if he's gonna win his next bout."
"Man's right, Cynthia," Teddy says. "We're here to win or we ain't here."
And there is a bond established between the two men.
Both of them have to win, come fall. Have to.
Which is something they cannot expect Cynthia to understand.
"Well," Cynthia says, changing the subject, "would you like a drink, Steve?"
"Only if you two are having one."
Teddy shrugs.
"Why not?"
Buying time.
Getting used to the idea.
Because he knows now what Cynthia has in mind. So that now it is he who is challenged. She is giving him what he asked for. And it is something he has never had before, that is for sure.
He probably does not even know the term for it.
Manage trois.
But he has never in his life shrunk from a challenge and he is certainly not about to start now.
And it is not as though Cynthia has lined up some nobody, some ass, or some greasily handsome gigolo.
Mister Galaxy.
Or at least, the once and future Mister Galaxy. A physical ideal for a physical situation. And now, they sip gin and tonics. Calming down, normalizing a situation which is anything but.
And now, it is time.
"Teddy, why don't you let me get Steve settled in and then you can join us?"
"Fine with me," he shrugs.
Thinking, What do I know about it anyway?
And he wonders if Steve has ever done it like this before.
"Give us about five minutes," she says.
And he watches the two of them go to the landing and disappear down the hallway.
Let it happen, he tells himself.
There is a time to control and a time to release.
And he has nothing to win, nothing to lose in this unreal, surreal situation.
It is an entertainment, a diversion, arranged at his request.
Therefore, he will enter into the spirit of the thing.
Because he can see some good, clean fun for a change.
Still, he is pleased, as he enters the master bedroom, that they are not already at it, hot and heavy.
So that he would be a kind of late-comer, an intruder.
Rather, they are merely lying there, Cynthia in the middle of the bed, Steve to one side of her, clearly awaiting him.
And now, as he approaches them, Steve reminds him of a colossal statue, come to life.
He gets on the bed next to Cynthia, in the space reserved.
And she grabs his thick prick, yanking on it, even as she does the same to Steve's, as Teddy can see by looking over there.
Both of them turn toward her, sliding down slightly, each of them helping himself to a big breast, which they suck avidly.
And soon, she is genuinely aroused, eyes closed, chin thrust into the air, face flushed.
But Steve's hand has been busy as well, a finger playing with her snatch, her clit.
And now, as his prick goes to full, massive erection, it is Steve when crawls atop her, inserting himself as she raises and spreads her legs.
And murmurs to Teddy, "You can take me in the ass this time."
So that Teddy pulls back.
And catches only a glimpse of Steve's broad back and big, rounded buttocks as he carefully supports Cynthia while he turns over with her.
So that now it is she who is on top of Steve.
And pumping up and down on his massive prong slowly, evenly.
So that Teddy can see the insertion of the thick piston into her pussy, the big balls below it.
But the champ has his assignment.
So he spreads her cheeks.
To discover that she is not stretched, lubricated, ready.
Surely, she does not expect. And he grins.
That is exactly what she does expect, and he will not disappoint her.
As he leans forward, sealing his mouth to her ass hole, puffed out toward him due to the pressure of the rampant intruder she is riding, careful only to avoid the meat piston, shiny with her pussy juices, shafting in and out below.
And she responds, relaxing her anal sphincter, letting his tongue go into her, where he can feel pressure applied and released as the mighty shaft does its work of thrusting and withdrawing.
So that, very quickly, she is loose enough, wet enough for him to do the deed.
And now, feeling the shifting motion on the bed behind her, she knows that Teddy is in position, between the two sets of legs.
And now, she raises herself up until only the head of Steve's thick prick remains inside her pussy.
And not until, with a sigh of pleasure, Teddy shoves his cock into her ass does she settle back down.
And Teddy does indeed feel a unique sensation.
It is as though the bottom of Steve's massive erection is against the bottom of his own.
And now, as they fuck her, fore and aft, it is this action of their cocks sliding against each other, separated by only a thin band of interior tissues, that provides a continuation of the exquisite novelty of sensation and experience.
He is fucking Cynthia in the ass, but another him, an alter ego, white as he is black, facing up as he is facing down, is also fucking her.
So that he feels both of them, Cynthia and this extension of himself, large and powerful as he is himself.
He feels their heat, their excitement, their vibrancy, their motion.
He feels it and becomes one with it.
And it is Steve's mighty, bulky sinews that rub against his own legs.
And it is Steve's cock, hot and hard and throbbing and wet with Cynthia's flowing pussy juices that he feels against his dangling balls.
And he can reach around for handfuls of big breast.
Or he can reach lower, to feel solid muscles, mirror images, extensions of his own.
And Cynthia has done it. She has succeeded in providing him with a unique experience, stimulating as it is novel, erotic as it is strange to him.
And he is the top man, controlling the action.
But with his body rather than his mind, as he rides Cynthia, even as he surrounds her with his other self.
And now, they climb the rainbow together, toward the pleasure beyond pleasure.
Cynthia, Teddy, and his new-found best buddy, Steve.
"Look, Ginny Mae, jus' 'cause yo' mama an' me ain' nevah got 'roun' ta doin' de deed don' mean ah ain' de one she wants ta make her happy.
"Dat make you happy, babe?
"Okay, I'll axe her.
"Ain' no big deal, one way or t'othah."
"Guess not, leastways fum your point of view."
"C'mon, babe, don' be doin' me lak this! "You knows damn well, wasn't fo' me, y'all wouldn't be movin' uptown inta no imagine-assed condo!"
"Oh no? I ain't so sure. Somethin' about a positive blood tes', now I recall." And Willy grins.
And pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. He was hoping she would bring that up, would throw that in his face. "Check it out, babe!
"Me an' de champ, we gots de same blood type AB posi-tive!"
She stares at the paper, then at him.
"What the hell," she sighs, "get in the cab wif Mama."
"After you, my dear," he replies, bowing.