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“Let’s give it a try,” Hardwood said. “You get in line and I’ll pay for you.”
“Go ahead,” Michael said, “I have no interest whatsoever.”
“What’s with you today?” Hardwood asked him. “You just sat there in that garden and looked at the scenery and now you don’t want to try this punching game?”
“You try it and I’ll watch,” Michael said. Stepping back from the crowd around the machine, he took off his glasses and began to clean them with his shirt sleeve.
“Ah, shit, the Italians would just laugh at me,” Hardwood said and put his arm around Michael’s small shoulders. “Let’s go get a beer.”
Coming back through the fair, they walked past a group of young boys lined up to kick a soccer ball attached to a machine gauging the power of their feet. “Maybe you’d be better at that one,” Hardwood said to Michael. “You’ve got good legs for your size.”
“That’s what all the women tell me,” Michael said.
Hardwood had a big grin on his face as they entered the cafe across from the fair. A few men sat alone in the corners at the chipped, white, enameled tables drinking kitchen glasses full of red wine. “You want a beer?” Hardwood asked as they sat down in the center of the cafe. An aroma of garlic frying in olive oil filled the air. “Damn it smells good in here,” he continued. “It really makes me thirsty.”
“I don’t like beer,” Michael said. “I actually don’t drink.”
“I’m going to get you one anyway,” Hardwood said.
They drank several beers.