The betting took longer than the ‘fight’. Tonne saw the left
hand coming and as his opponent swung past, one shot to the top of the head
knocked him out cold.
As the various lowlifes worked out the bets and payment,
Tonne swiped his pay and headed for the bar. As he got his usual large vodka,
from the shadows an older man in a tailored suit with matching women on each
arm approached him.
“Good job.”
“Thanks. Learnt that move in the gutter.”
The older man laughed.
“Funny, that’s where I learnt this.” he replied, waving at
the club.
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