EVER WONDER WHAT YOU must smell like to other people?

I knew what my kids smelled like. I could tell them in the dark. When Rachel threw up, she smelled like an old man disgracing himself in a bar. The farts out of little Anthony would drive the rats off a garbage scow. But when you stuck your nose in their hair, they smelled as fresh and sweet as the woods after a hard rain. You can learn a lot about a person from the way they smell. A guy can lower or raise his voice, put on a hairpiece, change his clothes, but no matter how much perfume or cologne he puts on, his true odor always comes through. The honest sweating-through-the-underwear funky smells.

So as I was sitting there in Frank Diamond’s $5,000-a-night hotel suite, I naturally started worrying about how bad I smelled. Because with the way Frank was looking at me, I must’ve stunk like a pile of old gym socks.

“You know, I helped build this place,” he said, rubbing the top of his shaved head. “It’s true. I was one of the original lawyers who helped structure the financing. Everyone thinks it was the mob and Teamster pension funds that built the casinos, like in Vegas. It wasn’t. It was the junk bond market, But I’d imagine all that’s a little too sophisticated for you.”

I hadn’t really had a chance to check out the room before. It was one of those high-roller suites named after a famous pirate like Jean Lafitte or Freddie the Casserole. There was a gold Jacuzzi over by the window, a Louis XIV cabinet with a huge color TV rising out of it, separate entrances for servants and children, and a bar stocked with 150-year-old bottles of wine.

Still, five thousand a night seemed a little steep. The colors weren’t as vivid as I thought they would be and the furniture didn’t look that comfortable. But it must be worth it, I figured, just to know that the guy downstairs only had seventy-five-year-old wine. No question, this was the place to be if you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“So that was a cute play you did with Terry and that girl of yours,” said Frank, who was wearing a maroon polo shirt, white pants, and white slip-ons without socks.

I was surprised he wasn’t more angry with me, but I played it cool. “I don’t know about any play. It was just nature taking its course.”

And that was all I had to say about it. I stared at him. He looked disappointed, and after a minute he changed the subject.

“So what about your entry fee?”

“Entry fee?” I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right. “I’m not giving you anything. We’re co-promoters now.”

He chuckled to himself. “I believe you mean you’re the co-manager of one of the fighters.”

“Okay, all right.”

“Well as the manager of the challenger you’ll be expected to put up some of the money for the sanctioning fees and the other expenses ...”

“Fuck you,” I said. I couldn’t have been more indignant if he’d walked right over and stuck a hand in my pocket. “I already paid the sanctioning fees. Are you going to try robbing me too?”

He turned his back to me for a second, and very casually opened a tall black cabinet and took a cassette out of an expensive-looking Japanese tape deck. He’d been recording our whole conversation.

“You mind turning that off?” I asked, trying to remember if I’d said anything incriminating.

He hit a switch, fading the little red lights.

“Listen.” I started to sit down on a rich blue sofa with black swirls. “I expect to do some serious negotiating. Now, I’d appreciate it if you made me a real offer. It’s only two weeks until the fight...”

“Don’t sit on that,” he said suddenly.

“Why not?”

“They just Scotchgarded all the furniture in the room. You can’t sit on anything for an hour. We have to use these.”

He pointed to two big brown beanbag chairs shaped like boxing gloves, side by side in the corner.

“Gifts from a potential sponsor,” he explained, sitting down in one of the giant gloves and trying to get comfortable.

I sat down in the glove next to him and felt my ass sink deep into its pocket. “I don’t imagine this is very good for your back.”

“I was thinking of giving you something in the neighborhood of three hundred thousand dollars for your fighter and options on his next three fights.”

“Are you kidding?”

He frowned like a wine steward who’d been handed back a bottle with a screw-on top. “No, I am not kidding. Most managers would pay me to get a shot at the title.”

“I guess if you don’t ask you don’t get.” I squirmed in the glove. “All you’re forgetting is there’s a girl who could knock the whole fight off the rails.”

I peered across the room, trying to make sure he’d turned off the tape recorder.

Frank Diamond changed the position of his eyebrows so he could play the role of the aggrieved businessman. “My offer is still three hundred thousand.”

Obviously the key to this game was staying cool. I perched on the edge of the glove and crossed my legs. “I thought the casino and the TV people were putting up twenty million dollars for this fight.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” he said, his bald head touching the top of the glove. “And now that we’re using Elijah instead of Meldrick, the figure is closer to ten million.”

I didn’t say anything for a minute. You had to hand it to the man. He lied with the greatest of ease. It wasn’t that he expected you to believe any of it. It was just that he knew he could wear you down by holding back the truth. I could learn more in an hour with this guy than I could in ten years with Teddy.

“Look.” I tried a new tack. “I don’t care about having my name on the poster or any of that bullshit. I know about printing costs. I can wait until the next fight.”

Frank glanced down at the glass of vodka by his side. If my head had been small enough, he would have tried drowning me in it.

“I’m man enough to admit what I don’t know,” I said, heaving myself out of the beanbag chair. “All I want right now is five million dollars and a chance to hang around and learn the ropes.”

“Oh, that’s all.” Frank smiled. “And where’s that money supposed to come from?”

“Your fighter’s getting most of the ten million, right?”

“That’s deceptive,” Frank said. “There’s a lot of money going in and out. It gets very complicated. Terrence’s manager gets a third of what he makes.”

“His manager? I didn’t even know he had a manager. I knew he had a trainer and a promoter, but what’s his manager’s name?”

“William Diamond,” Frank said absently.

“Who’s that, your brother?”

“My son,” he replied with muted pride. “Who else is supposed to manage him? A stranger?”

“But where is he? I haven’t seen him around here.”

“It’s not necessary. He’d be redundant. Between his trainer and me, we’ve got everything covered. My son is not that interested in the business anyway, I’m sorry to say. He is a musician,” he said calmly, balling up his fists and pounding the sides of his beanbag chair with them.

“I’m glad he’s only taking a third then.”

“It’s all that’s permitted under state law.”

“That still leaves two-thirds.” I went over to the bar to make myself a drink. “Maybe we could take some out