Part 20 (1/2)
It's all coming together in my head now. ”You crooked f.u.c.ker. What, you help them launder money? You idiot, they played you for the dumb chump you are. How much did you bet?”
He shakes his head, and his lips are trembling. His eyes are unfocused now. He's whispering to himself, but I can't make it out.
There's a bruise forming on his neck from where I held him. That's going to be tough to explain to Ca.s.sie.
”How much did you bet?” I shout, slapping him across the face. He comes back to the present.
”Um, one-point-three,” he says.
”Thousand?” I ask, scoffing. ”Jesus, it ain't the end of the world, man.”
Kyle shakes his head and waves frantic hands at me. ”No, not thousand. Million!”
My jaw drops. The sound of cars pa.s.sing by drowns out into nothingness. It's just me and Kyle alone in this world, and I'm at a loss for words.
”You bet one million on that f.u.c.king kid?” I hiss. ”Are you f.u.c.king insane?”
”They said Kaminski would lose the fight. The odds were so bad, I'd make out huge, and split some of it with them. There was a whole group of us! It was organized! It would be larger than the cut they'd take off everyone betting on Kaminski. It was a win-win! Why did they back out?”
I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose.
”There's more,” Kyle says. He gestures at my pocket. ”Do you have those awful things?”
I pull out my pack of cigarettes.
”Yeah, f.u.c.k, give me one.”
I don't move, and he looks into my eyes before immediately looking away.
”Okay, please can I have one?” he asks.
I open my palm and he grabs the pack out of it, fumbles for a cigarette and shoves it in his mouth. I clink my zippo open, spark it for him.
”What else is there, Kyle? Did you just lose money, or is there more?”
”This bet would have given me enough money to pay back a debt. A debt I incurred in Las Vegas last week.”
I can't help it. I just shake my head and laugh to myself.
This f.u.c.king guy!
”I was there and the senior partners were all putting down big money, and I had to follow suit. I had to! But I got unlucky, just a dry spell. I borrowed money.”
”From who?”
”A money lender.”
”You borrowed money from a loan shark?” I ask in disbelief. This rabbit hole just keeps getting deeper.
”Only two-hundred grand!”
”Only.”
”But I lost it all again. And now, with interest...” Kyle's voice fades. He gulps, and then says, ”So I took out another loan. I thought I could cover them both with a surefire win. Pay back the first loan with interest, and the second one with the winnings, and still come out on top by a little bit.”
I narrow my eyes at him. ”Wow, you really are as dumb as you look.”
”Do you know what they're going to do to me when I get back?”
I push him angrily against the wall, hold him by his neck. This bomb of rage has just exploded out of me at what he just said.
”You f.u.c.k!” I shout, and I thump him once in the gut. He tries to keel over, winded, but I force him to stand up straight.
”You're worried about what they're going to do to you?” I spit into his face. ”What about Ca.s.sie? What about my mother!”
”I never involved them. They don't even know.”
”You think these guys care about s.h.i.+t like that? They'll hurt them, too, you stupid f.u.c.king p.r.i.c.k. Your debt will pa.s.s on to them! You've got to tell them about this. You've got to fix this.”
”How?” he mewls pathetically. His whole body is violently shaking now. His eyes are all wet. I can't believe this stupid piece of s.h.i.+t is about to start crying.
”How?” he manages to choke out. It's followed by a sob, but to his credit, he contains the self-indulgent waterworks. ”I've got nothing left.”
I slam his back against the wall. ”Tell your daughter and my mother.” I speak the words slowly, s.p.a.ce out each syllable. ”They have a right to know if they're in danger.”
”And then what?”
”You fix it. You call in every favor you can. But you pay back those loans before we get back to the States, do you hear me?”
”I-I can't! I can't get enough!”
I grind my teeth together. It takes every ounce of self-control not to beat the s.h.i.+t out of this f.u.c.ker. It might make me feel better, but it's not a solution.
”Figure it out,” I say, jabbing a finger right into his face. ”You better f.u.c.king think of something.”
I'm about to leave when he grabs onto my arm. I shoot him a stare that scares the living daylights out of him, and he lets go immediately.
”Help me,” he says, voice quiet. ”Help me think of something. For... for your mother!”
I ball my fist. He would use that? He would say that?
I stalk off, leave him in the alley. If I listen to words dribble out of his mouth any longer, I might have to send him to hospital.
”Where are you going?” he cries.