It 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.
“Do you know what you cost me, Cree?” he asked.
“Ten large?” I asked.
“More than that, buddy boy. I needed this race. I needed the win. You have no idea how badly.”
“Actually, I do.” I said.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Your goons let it slip that you owe a lot of money to Solly Dario.”
He flashed a look at Vic and Jerry, who shrugged and looked away. I could see him grip the tools tighter in his fist. “Yeah, well, none of that matters now. What matters is that you played me. You took my trust and my ten grand and set me back. Again. Bigger. With more consequences. And I got to even up now.”
He stepped up to Ashton, and Vic moved in to press him into his seat by pushing down on his shoulders. Hardy knelt and held the edge of the chisel just below his kneecap. “You ever seen a sculpture being made, Cree?”
“No,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“Messy. Bits of stuff flying all over. But before I start, I just want to ask you one question.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Who fronted you the grand to lay down on the horse?”
“I did.” The voice came from the door of the loading dock, and the three gangsters spun around to see who spoke.
“Solly,” Hardy said. The tools dropped onto the plastic.
Solly Dario and four of his men strode into the warehouse. They were all business. Vic and Jerry stepped back away from us. Solly stepped up to Hardy and stood mere inches away, staring at him sternly. “Come to collect,” he said.
“I ain’t got it, Solly. I woulda. But the kid played me.”
“Oh, I’m not here to collect from you, Winslow. I’m here to collect from Cree.”
Hardy looked at me and just stared with his mouth hanging wide open.