Never one to back down from a dare, I've taken up the Thom G. double-dog Three Word Wednesday gauntlet. This week's words are gamble, omitted and temporary.
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Jesse sat back in the chair thinking about the past 24 hours and nervously dreading what the next 24 would bring.
He fucked up and knew it. But that's how he lived, on the edge. He'd done it all his life, ever since that first rush of jumping off the trestle bridge as an 8-year-old. He didn't do it for pride, because his friends would bestow some horrible trestle-linked-chicken nickname on him. No Jesse had the fever -- not for more cowbell -- but for greenbacks. Cold, hard cash. As an 8-year-old the 20 bucks his friends cobbled together would have made Jesse run naked through Wal Mart.
It was his Quixotic mission, chasing the almighty dollar.
He knew it was a gamble to take the Pick 6 long shot at Del Mar. He knew it was even more dangerous to do it with the mob's money.
But that was water under the bridge. Now he'd have to find the six-grand he pissed away at the track. And fast.
There would be no time for excuse, Vinnie wouldn't hear it.
He wouldn't care that the Racing Forum omitted the fact that Friedegg had a stress fracture in its leg and had been in one of those goddamned inflatable temporary casts leading up the final viewing.
The only thing Vinnie cared about was the return on the 4-g's he'd "loaned" Jesse earlier in the week.
There were no "broken legs" promises. It was understood.
Now Jesse, not wanting to end up like Friedegg, in a cast, began scheming.
"Hey, Jack," the phone call began, "Meet me at the Blue Room in an hour. I've got a proposition for you."
1 comment:
Oh, man, I likes it.
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