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He’d gambled because it was fun and because he could get away with it.
Then, when he got deep in hock, it stopped being fun. And he couldn’t get away with it anymore.
As he sat sipping his second beer, trying to make it last, he idly wondered how much money had been gambled on the outcome of this Rangers game. How much would his former business associates in the fancy Las Colinas office make off these nine innings? Plenty, you could be sure. The Vista boys had bookmakers all over the country working for them.
One less, now that Bill Bandy was no longer in their employ.
Griff hoped that sniveling little snitch was being slowly turned on a spit over the fieriest fire in hell.
“You got any money on it?”
Having been lost in thought, Griff turned his head to his right, to make sure he was the one being addressed. The man on the next stool was glaring at him, his upper lip raised in a belligerent smirk.
“Pardon?” Griff said.
“Ask him again.” A second man was standing behind the first. His truculent expression matched that of his friend, and his eyes were equally bloodshot from too much drink.
Calmly Griff said, “Ask me what?”
“I asked if you put any money on this game.” The one on the stool hitched his thumb toward the TV screen.
“No. I didn’t.” Griff turned away, hoping that would be the end of it.
“You don’t gamble anymore?”
Ignoring him, Griff reached for his beer.
The one on the stool jabbed his arm, causing him to slosh beer onto the bar. “Hey, asshole. Didn’t you hear me? I asked you a question.”
By now, those nearest to them had become aware of the cross words being exchanged. The music continued to blare through the speakers with palpable percussion. Action continued on the TV screen, but conversations were suspended as attention was directed toward them.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Griff said under his breath. “Why don’t you guys just back off, go somewhere and sober up, okay?” But he knew they weren’t going to simply walk away. The second one had moved up behind his barstool, crowding in close. Griff’s back was to him, but he sensed the man’s hostile, challenging stance.
He made eye contact with the bartender and motioned that he wanted his check. The bartender hastened over to a computerized cash register. Griff glanced across at the brunette who’d been flashing him. She was sucking her drink through a straw, watching him over the frosted glass. Her escort was looking at him, too.
The guy standing behind Griff’s barstool said, “I guess he only bets on the games he throws.”
“Fucking cheater.” The first guy jabbed his arm again, hard. “Fucking, fucking cheat—”
Griff’s hand shot out with the speed of a striking snake, grabbed the man’s wrist, and slammed it down onto the bar like the coup de grâce of an arm-wrestling match.
He howled in pain. The second one landed on Griff’s back like a mattress stuffed with lead. Griff came off his barstool and tried to shake the guy off. There was a noisy shuffling of feet as people hastily backed away. Somewhere a glass broke. Two bouncer types appeared and pulled the guy off Griff’s back. “Break it up.”
One of the bouncers pushed Griff’s shoulder, shoving him back several steps. Griff put up no resistance. He raised his hands. “I didn’t ask for any trouble. I didn’t want it.”
The two bouncers took firm hold of his hecklers and escorted them away. They protested drunkenly but were taken outside. But the show wasn’t over. All eyes remained on Griff, especially now that he’d been recognized. His whispered name moved through the crowd like a spreading stain.
The bartender presented his check. Before he could count out the bills to pay it, a young man in a fashionable suit materialized beside him. He was obviously the man in charge. “It’s on the house,” he said to the bartender, who nodded and retrieved the check.
Griff said, “Thanks.”
But the young man’s expression wasn’t hospitable. “I’m asking you to leave and not come back.”
Anger and embarrassment caused Griff’s face to grow hot. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m asking you to leave and not come back,” the young man repeated.
Griff stared at him for several seconds more, then pushed him aside and strode past. The crowd parted to clear a path. When he reached the door, one of the bouncers held it open for him. As Griff walked through, the bouncer muttered, “Cocksucking cheat.”
