results with pride. As her hand came on a level with his mouth, Jack jerked his head forward to kiss the tip of one passing finger.
“Silly!” she said again, snatching her hand away.
“Lay off that,” said Red O’Leary, “or I’ll knock you off.”
“Pull in your neck,” said Jack Counihan.
“Reddy!” the girl cried, too late.
The O’Leary right looped out. Jack took the punch on the button, and went to sleep on the floor. The big redhead spun on the balls of his feet to loom over me.
“Got anything to say?” he asked.
I grinned down at Jack, up at Red.
“I’m ashamed of him,” I said. “Letting himself be stopped by a paluka who leads with his right.”
“You want to try it?”
“Reddy! Reddy!” the girl pleaded, but nobody was listening to her.
“If you’ll lead with your right,” I said.
“I will,” he promised, and did.
I grandstanded, slipping my head out of the way, laying a forefinger on his chin.
“That could have been a knuckle,” I said.
“Yes? This one is.”