“They keep the customers happy. Half come in just to hear the tales.” He handed his brother a towel. “And if I served better drinks, then the nobs would come too.”
“This isn’t the place for drinks. Send them up the street.”
“Then it’s not me who gets the money, now is it?”
Reuben pulled on his shirt, using the time to think. This boxing parlor had been his brother’s dream, and so Reuben had helped him with the money to start it. Then he’d had to teach the man how to defend it from thieves and gangs of crooks. Harry had learned quickly enough, thank God, but now he wanted to expand in ways that made no sense.
“Doesn’t this place make enough for you? Can’t you be happy—”
“With things how they are? No more than you could.”
Reuben pursed his lips. Harry was right on that account, he supposed. But the truth was, he didn’t have time to supervise any kind of expansion and he didn’t want his brother to lose it all on something as foolish as trying to tempt the nobs.
“It’s not going to work,” he said. “The nobs won’t come here. You’re too far away from them.”
“It’ll work.”
“No—”
“It’s not for the nobs,” his brother ground out. “It’s for the women.”
Reuben paused in the middle of tying his cravat. “What women?”
“I got the idea from Lindy.”
“Your daughter?”
“Aye. She wants to learn how to fight.”
Reuben nodded slowly. “I can see that you’ve taught her a fair bit.”
“I have. And I’ve taught some other girls, too. Older ones. Ones that need to know where to hurt a man.”
“They’re the ones who want a closed off area to wash.”
“Yes.” His brother faced him square on. “And they’re the ones who like fighting Willie and Roy. They’re old enough that they don’t care if a girl hits ’em. And they know why the girls need to learn.”
“You got that all from Lindy?”
“And her mother. Anna’s been talking it up. More girls’d come if we had a place for them to clean up and maybe a nice drink or two—”
“Would they pay?”
“Yes.”
He sounded certain, but Reuben wasn’t convinced. It all depended upon the neighborhood. If the women supported something like this, it could work. But all it took was some righteous soul screaming about what girls ought and ought not do. Then suddenly something simple like teaching a girl how to punch became the focus of every argument, yea or nay. It was too risky without him right here keeping an eye on things.
“It isn’t going to work, Harry.”
“You don’t know that. I do. Damn it, Reuben—”
His brother went on and on. He argued for his choices, explained his reasons, spoke of people who would help and the women who needed to learn. Reuben didn’t disagree. He just didn’t have the time to supervise it now. There was too much to do, so he finished dressing, brushed out his hair, and then interrupted his brother.
“Get me a hackney. I’m late and I can’t miss this chance.”
“To hobnob with the dandies?” His brother’s voice was filled with scorn. “You’ve forgotten where you’ve come from.”
Reuben shook his head. “I’ve got my eye on where I’m going, you idiot. And if it works—”
