The Next Sure Thing by Richard Wagamese Page 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.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    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