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Authors: Richard Wagamese
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finger by finger and eyeing Hardy all the while. Ashton and I watched and waited.
“He don’t play straight, Solly,” Hardy said. “He’s got no code.”
“Fact is, he does.”
“Whattaya mean?”
Dario finished removing his gloves, folded them gently and laid them in the pocket of his overcoat.
“He’s got a code and he’s got moxie. He come to me. Told my boys you sent him, and he told me about your issue.”
“My issue?” Hardy put a hand against his chest and bowed slightly.
“You gave the kid a week to come up with the juice you still owe me. That’s a big load to throw off on a young kid. Especially one who has such a good high end as this kid does.”
“Solly, I was just taking care of your end.”
“My end takes care of itself, Winslow. Always has, always will. Like this kid walkin’ through my door. Good things just come to me.” Solly looked at them, and his four boys all grinned. “So he tells me about his gig with you. Then he tells me how he needs a hand to get this done. So I listen like any good businessman would. Turns out he wants to teach you something, and me, I figure that’s a good thing on accounta you being into me for so much means you could use a lesson in how things work.”
“I don’t get it,” Hardy said.
Dario patted him on the cheek.
“I know you don’t. The kid needed someone to front the cash for a big roll out on this horse. Said if I did, he would earn me back the vig and the juice from you and a whole lot more.”
“I still don’t get it,” Hardy said.
“And that’s why you’ll never be a good businessman, Winslow. See, the kid knew the horse would win, but he needed someone to take the attention off him at the last minute. Hence your ten large.
“You dumped this big wager, and it shows up in the win pool. That gets every player in the joint drooling, and they lay out more and no one touches the money horse. In fact, his odds go up. When that happens, I lay down my wager at the very last minute, and next thing you know, I’m collecting big. Big. And the thing is, the kid would only do it if your debt was cleared with the winnings.”
“He still played me for the sap,” Hardy said.
“Get over yourself, Winslow. The kid knew you could handle the ten grand. You were only sweating what you owed me. You were the means to the end, and if he played you, he did it perfectly. Perfectly. Kinda like he plays the blues.”
“You heard him?”
“Naturally. I said he had a good high end. Kid’s gonna make a big splash, and I’m in the front door.”
“So I owe you nothing?”
“That’s right. Free and clear. Just like the kid and his pal here.”
“But he still belongs to me, right? He still plays the track for me?”
“Winslow, you don’t hear so good sometimes. I said free and clear. Along with clearing your debt, he cleared himself too. That means his family, all the connections to him you got too. Granted, every now and then he’s going to do me a favor when a sure thing comes up, and maybe I’ll let you in on that action when it happens. Then again, maybe I won’t.”
“So what’s the lesson I’m supposed to learn here?” Hardy asked. He looked beat.
“Tell him, Cree.” Dario grinned.
Hardy looked at me. “There is only ever really one sure thing,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” Hardy said coldly. “And what might that be?”
“You have to make your own luck, because there’s never really a next sure thing.”
“Still talking in song lyrics, aren’t you?” Hardy asked.
As it turned out, I was.
EPILOGUE
W e finished recording my first cd within a month. It was called Sure Thing Blues , and the critics hailed it for the force of its guitar work and its intelligent lyrics. By the end of that summer, it was the number-one blues recording in the country and I had three prime videos and a major concert tour opening for Buddy Guy. Ashton became my manager. He put together one of the hottest bands on the planet to back me
“He don’t play straight, Solly,” Hardy said. “He’s got no code.”
“Fact is, he does.”
“Whattaya mean?”
Dario finished removing his gloves, folded them gently and laid them in the pocket of his overcoat.
“He’s got a code and he’s got moxie. He come to me. Told my boys you sent him, and he told me about your issue.”
“My issue?” Hardy put a hand against his chest and bowed slightly.
“You gave the kid a week to come up with the juice you still owe me. That’s a big load to throw off on a young kid. Especially one who has such a good high end as this kid does.”
“Solly, I was just taking care of your end.”
“My end takes care of itself, Winslow. Always has, always will. Like this kid walkin’ through my door. Good things just come to me.” Solly looked at them, and his four boys all grinned. “So he tells me about his gig with you. Then he tells me how he needs a hand to get this done. So I listen like any good businessman would. Turns out he wants to teach you something, and me, I figure that’s a good thing on accounta you being into me for so much means you could use a lesson in how things work.”
“I don’t get it,” Hardy said.
Dario patted him on the cheek.
“I know you don’t. The kid needed someone to front the cash for a big roll out on this horse. Said if I did, he would earn me back the vig and the juice from you and a whole lot more.”
“I still don’t get it,” Hardy said.
“And that’s why you’ll never be a good businessman, Winslow. See, the kid knew the horse would win, but he needed someone to take the attention off him at the last minute. Hence your ten large.
“You dumped this big wager, and it shows up in the win pool. That gets every player in the joint drooling, and they lay out more and no one touches the money horse. In fact, his odds go up. When that happens, I lay down my wager at the very last minute, and next thing you know, I’m collecting big. Big. And the thing is, the kid would only do it if your debt was cleared with the winnings.”
“He still played me for the sap,” Hardy said.
“Get over yourself, Winslow. The kid knew you could handle the ten grand. You were only sweating what you owed me. You were the means to the end, and if he played you, he did it perfectly. Perfectly. Kinda like he plays the blues.”
“You heard him?”
“Naturally. I said he had a good high end. Kid’s gonna make a big splash, and I’m in the front door.”
“So I owe you nothing?”
“That’s right. Free and clear. Just like the kid and his pal here.”
“But he still belongs to me, right? He still plays the track for me?”
“Winslow, you don’t hear so good sometimes. I said free and clear. Along with clearing your debt, he cleared himself too. That means his family, all the connections to him you got too. Granted, every now and then he’s going to do me a favor when a sure thing comes up, and maybe I’ll let you in on that action when it happens. Then again, maybe I won’t.”
“So what’s the lesson I’m supposed to learn here?” Hardy asked. He looked beat.
“Tell him, Cree.” Dario grinned.
Hardy looked at me. “There is only ever really one sure thing,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” Hardy said coldly. “And what might that be?”
“You have to make your own luck, because there’s never really a next sure thing.”
“Still talking in song lyrics, aren’t you?” Hardy asked.
As it turned out, I was.
EPILOGUE
W e finished recording my first cd within a month. It was called Sure Thing Blues , and the critics hailed it for the force of its guitar work and its intelligent lyrics. By the end of that summer, it was the number-one blues recording in the country and I had three prime videos and a major concert tour opening for Buddy Guy. Ashton became my manager. He put together one of the hottest bands on the planet to back me
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