JOYCE CAROL OATES
385
the guy gave a look around the room, a last look, but he still didn't
see Harvey and his friends. The son of a bitch, Harvey thought. Who
are you calling fuckface, fuckface? - you're dead, Harvey thought,
putting down his glass of draft beer.
The girl wasn't any eighteen either, probably Marian's age,
heavy makeup on her face and black stuff on her eyes, her ass wrig–
gling in some kind of a silky play suit, really short shorts, bare legs
and those high-heeled shoes: a real slut.
Harvey poked his buddies and said Look, and they looked, and
he said Want to get him? and they were sort of indecisive and Harvey
said Let's go, and they paid up at the bar, and followed the two out
into the parking lot, it was good luck, Harvey thought, the bastard's
motorcycle was parked way down at the end, way down, almost in
the dunes. Harvey started in trotting, he wasn't even going to wait
for his buddies, he felt so good, the whole night had been moving
toward this, weeks and weeks, half his life, like a river running fast,
his heart fast too, he knew enough not to call out any kind of warn–
ing, not even to bother calling the bastard a name, the trainer at the
Y had said don't waste that rush you get, that good strong feeling,
that's some kind of chemical or hormone, adrenaline, now you're go–
ing to need it and now you think maybe you're scared but remember
you're
not,
you're just getting ready to fight. When it hits them there's
lots of guys that panic or start talking too fast but don't you ever
make that mistake, just ride with the feeling, okay? - just ride with
it, let it carry you along, that good strong feeling, someday maybe
it's going to save your life.
And when you're in the ring don't ever feel sorry for your oppo–
nent 'cause why the hell should you, he's your opponent and he's out
for your ass.
So Harvey got first to the guy, just started swinging, the girl
screamed, the guy shouted something and tried to block Harvey's fist
but Harvey got him square in the face, left cheekbone, so hard his
knuckles felt like they were broken but the hurt just faded away
at once. Now the bastard was backing away crouched, now Harvey
could see the sick pleading look in his eyes, Harvey got him next in
the gut, that big soft fat gut, a real belly blow that doubled him over,
any referee that saw that the fucking fight would be over right now
and Kubeck through for the season, but there wasn't any referee, just
Harvey and the guy with the ponytail, trying to use his fists, trying
even to use a knee, he swung clumsily at Harvey and Harvey just
