Louie was looking at me speculatively as though he wanted to say something else, perhaps wondering if he dared to try coaching me in something that wasn’t fighting. But it was hard for him to find words. At length, he said, “Listen, buddy, you know where I stand. I’m your pal, see?”
I nodded.
“I’m backing your play. No matter what it is, I’m backing it.”
Again I nodded.
He blurted awkwardly, “Well, don’t pull no punches on my account. Come on, get your mitts up and let’s go through that again. One — two — one — two — one — two — one — two—”
I was so tired I could hardly move when we finished. Perspiration was commencing to stand out on my skin. Louie looked me over. “No cold showers for you, buddy. That cold-shower stuff is all right for the guys that have a layer of fat under their skin. Even then it don’t do ’em as much good as they think it does. You take a warm shower, not hot, now, just a little bit warmer than your skin. Get the temperature with your hands, then step in under it. It’ll feel like a cold shower at first, and you’ll want to turn on more warm water, but don’t do it. Just stay under there and put on lots of soap and scrub off good. Then make the water just a little cooler, not enough to give you a shock, but just start cooling it down until you feel you’d like to get out and then get out quick. Rub yourself good with a towel, then get in on your bed and — well, then’s when I take over.”
I took the shower. The towels furnished by the man who owned the cabin were little thin things that became wringing wet by the time you were half through drying yourself.
Louie was waiting in my room when I stretched my damp body out on the bed. He had a bottle, and, as he sloshed some of the contents of the bottle into his hand, I thought I smelled alcohol, witch hazel, and bay rum. Then Louie went to work. He kneaded, pounded, massaged, slapped, rubbed, and then did it all over again.
I began to feel a delightful sense of relaxation. I wasn’t drowsy, but I could feel new, clean blood coursing through my muscles, could feel my skin tingle and glow.
From the kitchen, I could hear the rattle of pans. Louie gave a little exclamation, strode across the room, jerked the door open, and said, “Hey, I’m the cook here.”