The Next Sure Thing (7 page)
“Yeah, well, it’s all about the road and not the map, baby.”
“Cool enough,” he said and clapped me on the shoulder. “But maybe we can try truckin’ down something other than a dirt road sometime there, Lightnin’.” He laughed. I felt good. Ashton was a great friend.
The thing about horse players is that the smarter they get, the less they really know. Numbers are like a complicated chord progression. You can stare at them all you like, but you actually have to put your hand on the guitar to make any sense of it. Horse players sit back and watch numbers and never do anything to work with them. They come to believe that the numbers have a mind of their own and will fall into the pattern they’re supposed to, and that their job is to watch them and react when all the signs are clear. This is what I was counting on.
The other thing that I was counting on is what players dread the most. The unseen. The weird little things that go on in the background that affect the way things turn out. A bandage or a tape job on a fetlock or a knee. A sheen of liniment on the shoulder or the haunch. Blinkers over the eyes or tape on the ears. Or just the sudden appearance of numbers in a cold hard splash that drives them to the windows in droves. Horse players are a superstitious bunch. They’re certain that the Fates are lined up to pick their pockets, and the things they can’t control or understand send them into hard mental tailspins. I needed that to happen. I needed Hardy for that.
The other thing I needed was money to play. A lot of it. When the big moment came, I needed to be at the window with a pailful. I knew the only place I could turn for that. But the thing I needed most desperately was one of those things I couldn’t control. I could get Hardy to believe he was riding the next sure thing. I could have a plan for play money. What I couldn’t control was the weather the day of the race, a sudden accident in the exercise ring, a horse in the field juiced on speed, a spill during the race, an injury or the sudden pulling of my horse at the gate. There were more than enough imagined pitfalls. I could only take care of the things I could control. I left Ashton at the coffee joint and went to do just that.
R
ace day dawned like a minor miracle. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and not even a hint of a breeze. It was warm. The whole day smelled like roses. If there were such a thing as an omen, then I guess the day breaking open like that was it for me. I called Ashton, and we arranged to meet at the coffee shop and then go for breakfast. I showered and headed out. But Vic and Jerry were waiting for me on the porch. They stood there mute as statues. I couldn’t see their eyes behind their mirrored shades. All Vic did was extend an arm and indicate that I should walk ahead of them to the limo that sat at the curb, its tinted windows giving no hint as to who was inside. Jerry reached around me and opened the back door. I looked inside. Hardy was sitting there with Ashton, who looked pale and very nervous.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Insurance,” Hardy said and smiled.
“Against what?”
“Me gettin’ the friggin’ blues, Cree.”
“I got you on a good horse.”
“That’s what buddy boy is here to ensure. The boys will sit on him until we see what goes down.”
“I’m telling you what’s going to go down is that you’re walking away with a ton of cash today.”
He laughed. It was a cold laugh, empty of any feeling. It sent a chill down my spine.
“Words. That’s all that is. Words. Until I see something concrete, your buddy the nerd gets babysat. If the outcome is good, the outcome is good. If it isn’t…well, use your imagination. What’s this magic horse’s name anyway?”
“Regal Splendor. He’s a six-to-one shot in the second.”
“You want me to go big on a six-to-one shot?”
“No. I want you in on the next sure thing. It’s what you asked.”
“Regal Splendor. Sounds like…whattaya call it…a good sign.”
“It is.”
I looked at Ashton. He shrugged and looked at the floor. Jerry put a big wide hand in the middle of my back and pushed me into the car. I sat on the jump seat facing Hardy. He sat back and smoothed his clothes and grinned humorlessly. We pulled into traffic. Vic and Jerry eased in behind us in the suv. I coughed nervously, and Hardy’s cold stare froze me to the seat. He eased his jacket back and showed me the butt of an automatic pistol. Then he closed it and patted the small bulge where it sat in the holster under his armpit.
“Ah, a day at the races. So stylish. So fun. Don’t you think, there, nerd?”
He jostled Ashton in the ribs with his elbow. My friend just continued to stare at the floor. We drove to the track in silence. Hardy leaned back in the seat staring at me, eyes as empty as any I had ever seen. Just at that moment, the plan I had concocted offered me little comfort.
We killed time until the races started by cruising through the barns. Hardy was his most charming self. He scored a lot of points with handlers and grooms with his jokes and the roll of bills he showed buying coffees for them all. When he asked a few people about how Regal Splendor looked, he got nothing but strong opinions about his chances. A long shot, but a horse that would definitely be in the race even if it was the favorites that would rule the day. He seemed pleased with that.
“Did your homework,” he said to me as we walked back to the grandstand.
“It’s what you asked,” I said.
“How long do I wait before I put the bet down?”
“I’d wait until the end of the first race.” Deb’s Wild Fancy was in the second too. “Don’t want to go too soon and tip your hand. But you also don’t want to wait too long either,” I said.
“Are you in on this one this time?”
“You bet,” I said, and he grinned.
Hardy won fifteen hundred dollars in the first race on a horse I picked out of the post parade. She just looked good. He came back from the window with a gleam in his eye.
“If that’s how this is going to go today, you and the nerd will be doing whatever it is nerds do at night.”
I only nodded. The numbers on the tote board read exactly as I wanted them to. Regal Splendor moved up to eight to one, and there wasn’t a move on Deb’s Wild Fancy at all. He stayed at thirty to one. Hardy watched me read the board. I could feel his tension rising. When the numbers flashed across in an update with twelve minutes to go, I saw that they had stayed the same. “Time to go,” I said.
“Everything good?”
“Everything’s perfect.” I stood and followed him to the window. I was counting on long lines that would let me slip into a separate one from Hardy. My luck held. He only glanced at me. I shrugged and pointed to the number of people ahead of him. He nodded. I waited for him by the stairs. He had the assured glow that bettors have when they know they’re on a sure thing. He was actually smiling. He clapped me soundly on the back, and we walked back to our seats. The crowd was buzzing. There were three horses bet down to almost identical odds. Then, thirty seconds before post time, the numbers flashed in the final update and Regal Splendor sat at ten to one. Hardy’s smile got even bigger.
“How big did you go?” I asked.
“I went ten large.”
“Nice payout.” I said.
“It will be,” he said. Then he looked at me sternly. “Won’t it, Cree?”
“I told you, there’s a ton of cash to be won on this race.”
The track announcer said the fateful words, “And they’re at the post.” The crowd hushed, and I could feel the pulse of adrenaline everywhere. Hardy’s legs bumped up and down, and his hands tapped the top of his thighs. The gate flew open and they were off.
I
t went just as I thought it would. The three favorites controlled the race. They went to the front and challenged the rest of the field to stay with them. Regal Splendor ran fourth with a two-length gap between him and the favorites. Deb’s Wild Fancy hung back in seventh position and ran evenly without attracting any notice from either the crowd or the other jockeys. The pace was frantic. There wasn’t a nose between the three leaders, and the crowd was wild. Regal Splendor made a small move coming into the final turn and moved just behind them. Hardy jumped up and down in place beside me. I couldn’t hear myself think for the noise all around us. There’d been plenty of money bet, and people were going crazy.
Then, as they rounded the turn into the homestretch, Deb’s Wild Fancy came charging out of nowhere. He blasted into the straight. Regal Splendor had moved into a small lead, but the leaders were still in a tight pack. Deb’s Wild Fancy had to run wide, but he had a ton of gas left and his stride stretched out. He galloped hard to pull even as the crowd noise became enormous. Then it was between him and Regal Splendor. I don’t think I breathed. Hardy was bashing me on the shoulder and his face was crazed and wild and he yelled things that didn’t even sound like words to me. Then with ten yards to go, Deb’s Wild Fancy eased ahead and won going away by three-quarters of a length. Hardy slumped down into his seat. The crowd was electrified by the race, and the hubbub was tremendous. I sat down quietly beside Hardy.
“Let me see your ticket,” he said.
I handed it to him. He looked at it briefly. He nodded. He scowled. Then he tucked it into his pocket and elbowed me hard to my feet and put his hand inside his jacket. “Walk,” was all he said.
He walked behind me all the way to the parking lot. He didn’t say a word to me, but he didn’t have to. The same unnerving quiet that had settled over him during my beating spoke volumes to me as we walked. Some people carry the threat of themselves like a cloud, and Hardy’s roiled all around me. When we got to the car, he raised his hand and Vic and Jerry pulled up the black Navigator with Ashton inside.
“What’s to it, boss?” Vic asked.
“He played me,” Hardy said. “We’ll settle up at the warehouse.”
Jerry got out of the Navigator and grabbed me by the elbow. Hard. Then he pushed me into the backseat, and I slammed into Ashton with such force that our heads banged together. Vic drove fast following Hardy, and neither of them spoke. Ashton and I could only glance at each other, but I could tell that he was worried. I was beyond that. The ticket Hardy grabbed from me had been a thousand-dollar ticket. It was a big win. But it wasn’t going to be enough.
Vic and Jerry manhandled us through the loading dock and into the warehouse. Hardy had gotten there moments before. There were no employees left in the building. It was deathly quiet. While Vic stood in front of us, Jerry placed a pair of chairs in the middle of the floor on a large sheet of heavy plastic.
“What’s that for?” Ashton asked.
“Makes cleanup easier,” Vic said and grinned.
“Cleanup of what?” he asked.
“You,” Vic said.
Hardy came down the stairs from his office. He’d changed into a jogging suit and black leather gloves. He was carrying a hammer and a chisel. He walked past his henchmen without a word and separated the chairs so that they sat facing each other. Then he motioned for Vic and Jerry to bring us over. They shoved us so hard that we stumbled and crashed into each other, and Ashton sprawled on the plastic. Vic kicked him and hauled him to his feet. Jerry slapped me on the back of the head and I fell into a chair, nearly tipping over before I planted my feet and settled. Hardy stood in front of us tapping the head of the hammer on the chisel.