James, no – make that Fred, saw the bandage covering part of his left hand and it brought back memories of the pain and horror of his pinky being loped off by Tony’s leg-breaker, Leo. He used a damn gardening tool for God’s sake. Fred had listened to the threats from Tony but didn’t believe he would follow through and have his huge fixer cut “somethin” off.
Luckily, Fred knew a guy that helped him start a new life by forging a driver’s license, social security card, and other pertinent documents for his new name and background. The cost to disappear was way less than what he owed Tony, his bookie. At the end of his visit with the pruners, Leo let him know that he had another two weeks to either come up with the owed money or lose another “somethin.” So, disappearing was Fred’s best option. Plus, he grew to hate that old miserable life. He’d be a better person in the new one and it definitely wouldn’t include any sports betting or other gambling.
Fred had lined up a logging job near a little town in Montana, far away from Queens. Now he was nervous about starting it the next morning since he’d exaggerated his limited experience trimming trees for neighbors. But he’d have to make it work somehow since he’d be needing a steady paycheck.
Fred parallel parked along the town’s main street and entered an old-west-looking bar. He figured a drink or two would help him relax and sleep that night. Several others were sitting along a long wood bar offset from one wall. He sat on a vacant stool, near a middle-aged man having longish hair and beard and ordered a bourbon and coke.
“Hey buddy,” the bearded man said. “Haven’t seen you in here before. Are you new around here?”
“Ah yeah, I am ah … Fred. I start a new job in the morning, just outside of town.”
“Well, welcome, I’m Bob. This is a nice place to live. Where are you from and what brings you out here?”
“I’m from back east. I’d had it with the crowds and traffic and have always loved the outdoors.”
“Yeah, this is God’s country.”
“It’s a beautiful place, for sure.”
“What happened to your hand?”
“Lost my pinky using a table saw.”
“That sucks and it must have hurt like hell.”
“Sure did.”
They continued to talk for a while about James’s lost finger, new job, and employer, then they concentrated on their drinks. Seems like a friendly enough place, Fred thought.
“Fred, hey Fred. Did I wake you?”
“Oh, sorry Bob, I guess I was daydreaming.”
“You seem like a good guy, and we all need friends and help sometimes. I thought I’d let you in on a major tip and I could introduce you to a good buddy that runs a sports betting operation. Or you can place a bet online.”
“Oh no. Not me. I quit all that long ago.”
“Hey, know what you mean, but this is a biggie – and very reliable info.”
“Sounds interesting but I’m really not interested.” James said.
“Okay, I get it, but my cousin is married to a guy whose sister’s husband is Bart, Portland’s starting quarterback. Portland is heavily favored in their game tomorrow, but Bart caught covid and is keeping it under wraps – only his wife knows about it. He’s feeling shitty but is going to play anyway. So, it will be a major surprise when they lose. It’s a great opportunity to make quick bucks. I’m going big on the money-line bet against Portland.”
“Geez. That’s hard to pass up. Would your friend take a bet against my first paycheck?”
“I can put in a good word for you. I’m sure he would.”
“Well, okay, let’s do it.”
James and Bob placed bets that evening with Bob’s bookie.
Bart was pulled early in the game the next day, but the backup led Portland to a victory. James, er Fred started on another debt spiral.