The horses streaked across the finish line, and Lula was still jumping. “Yes,” she was screaming. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I looked over at her. “You won, right?”
“You bet your ass I won. I won big. Twenty to one. I must have been the only genius in this whole freaking place who bet on that four-legged wonder. I’m going to get my money. Are you coming with me?”
“No. I’m going to wait here. I want to look for Abruzzi now that the crowd is thinning.”
13
PART OF THE problem was that I was seeing everyone at the rail from the back. Difficult enough to recognize someone you know intimately this way. Almost impossible to recognize someone you’ve only seen briefly on two occasions.
Lula plunked down into the seat next to me. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
“I just looked into the eyes of the devil.” She had her ticket clutched tight in her hand, and she made the sign of the cross. “Holy mother of God. Look here. I’m crossing myself. What’s with that? I’m Baptist. Baptist don’t do this cross shit.”
“Eyes of the devil?” I asked.
“Abruzzi. I ran right into Abruzzi. I was coming from collecting my money, and I just placed my bet, and I bumped right into him like it was destiny. He looked down at me, and I looked into those eyes, and I almost messed my pants. It’s like all my blood turns cold when I look into those eyes.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No. He smiled at me. It was awful. It was that smile that’s just a slash in his face and doesn’t go to his eyes. And then calm as anything, he turned around and walked away.”
“Was he alone? What was he wearing?”
“He was with that Darrow guy again. I think Darrow must be muscle. And I don’t know what he was wearing. It’s like my brain gets paralyzed when I get five feet from Abruzzi. I just get sucked into those creepy eyes.” Lula gave a shiver. “Yeesh,” she said. At least I knew Abruzzi was here. And I knew he was with Darrow. I started working my way through the rail crowd again. I was beginning to recognize people. They tended to go away to bet, but then they gravitated back to their favorite spot on the rail. They were Jersey people, the younger guys dressed in T-shirts and khakis and jeans, the older guys wearing Sansabelt polyester slacks and three-button knit golf shirts. Their faces were animated. Jersey doesn’t hold much back. And their bodies were padded with a good protective layer of deep-fried fish and sausage sandwich fat. From the corner of my eye I saw Lula make the sign of the cross again. Lula caught me looking at her. “It’s a comfort,” Lula said. “I think the Catholics might have hit on something here.”
The third race started, and Lula rocketed out of her seat. “Go, Ladies’ Choice,” she screamed. “Ladies’ Choice! Ladies’ Choice!”
Ladies’ Choice won by a nose, and Lula looked stunned. “I won again,” she said.
“There’s something wrong here. I never win.”
“Why did you pick Ladies’ Choice?”
“It was the obvious one. I’m a lady. And I had to make a choice.”
“You think you’re a lady?”
“Fuckin‘ A,” Lula said.
This time, I followed her out of the grandstand to the window. She was moving carefully, looking around, trying to avoid another meeting with Abruzzi. I was looking around for the opposite reason.
Lula stopped and went rigid. “There he is,” she said. “Over there at the fifty-dollar window.”
I saw him, too. He was third in line. Darrow was behind him. I could feel every muscle in my body go into contraction. It was like I was squinting from my eyeballs clear down to my sphincter.
I marched over and got right up into Abruzzi’s face. “Hey,” I said, “remember me?”
“Of course,” Abruzzi said. “I have your picture in a frame on my desk. Do you know you sleep with your mouth open? It’s actually very sensuous.”
