The beating is over. Now for the paying. Peterson brings in $1,200 in $20 bills and hands them to Taylor, who counts himself out $120, paper-clips another $120 for the match-maker and hands the rest to Torrence. Then Torrence and Taylor collect their clothes and head for the door.
"I ain't gonna say anything to the papers about this fight, Jake," Taylor says. "Just gonna keep quiet about it."
"Yeah," says Torrence. "They'll just make us look bad."
Outside, clumps of girlfriends and admirers and back-rubbers surround Schommer and the other winning fighters, all of them from the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. In their jubilation, they don't notice Torrence and the lieutenant skirting around them.
Together, the two head up the concrete staircase, out the steel doors and into the light-less parking lot, where they will stuff themselves back into the Eldorado, start it up and begin driving down a road too long and dark to imagine.