there was only three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of chips; as Elijah’s co-manager, I was entitled to just twenty percent, or sixty thousand. Barely enough to cover my debt to Teddy. There’d be nothing for my wife and kids, either. Forget Danny Klein and Rosemary.
“Where’s the rest of it?” I stood up and took a step toward Frank.
“Yoshiki, let me call you back,” he said into the phone. “Yes.
“There’s only three hundred thousand dollars here.” I pointed to the open briefcase. “We agreed to five hundred thousand up front.”
“Right. You lose a third off the top to taxes.”
“That still leaves about three hundred thirty thousand.”
“Of course,” said Frank with huffy impatience.“And some of that goes toward the accrued expenses that managers are expected to share in. Scoring judges, cost of printing tickets, overhead for keeping the arena open.”
“What about the million you owe me after the fight?” I heard my voice cracking.
“We’ll see how much of that is left.” He stood up and walked across the room to a silver tea service on the marble-topped bar. For a big man, he glided gracefully in his Gucci loafers. “Remember, you have to pay for the legal fees, the attending physicians, and the cost of laying cable. I wouldn’t expect the back end to be more than one hundred and twenty thousand dollars if I were your fighter. Subject to taxes, of course.”
“I’ll sue your fucking ass, Frank.” My take for the night was going to be eighty-four thousand dollars, thirty-six thousand short of what I owed.
“You and your lawyers are welcome to review my accounting practices,” he said, making himself a fresh cup.”They will stand up in court. Naturally, if I were you I’d want to avoid legal proceedings, especially given your background.”
Now I was the one feeling the breeze where my pants used to be. “Oh my God. This is outrageous. How am I going to pay my people?”
“Out of the advance I’d give you if I decided to take an option on Elijah’s next fight.”
“And what would it take to get you to pick up the option?”
“A strong showing tonight,” Frank said with a faint smile. I noticed he held his pinky out when he sipped his tea, like a dainty English maiden.
I felt dampness on the inside of my thigh and hoped it was sweat. “You mean Elijah has to win before we get paid the full amount?”
What was left of my world was collapsing. Elijah was an old man who’d been knocked out sparring the month before. He didn’t stand a real chance against Terrence. At his age, just climbing through the ropes was an achievement.
“He doesn’t have to win,” Frank told me. “He has to go the distance and do it in credible fashion. Not just holding on in the clinches. He has to put on a real fight.”
“In other words, he has to have the shit kicked out of him and remain standing?”
“Something like that.” Frank rang a bell for a servant to come and take his tea service away. “But I’d never say he had to win. That would be unreasonable.”
53
“WE GOT ONE RULE,” said Teddy as the car sped along the Garden State Parkway, “whenever we find a rat, we kill him. No ands, ifs, or buts about it.”
Joey Snails, the ex-junkie with the oily skin and the crevices shaped like seahorses in his cheeks, was driving. He raised his eyebrows and the seahorses got longer. Tommy Sick in the seat beside him giggled moronically.
It was almost dusk. Tall stark pine trees stood on either side of the road like elongated shadows.
“Way I figure it,” said Teddy, the collar of his shirt creeping up toward his jaw as he sank down in the passenger seat, “they have to have somebody who can put me in onna conspiracy for killing Larry and his son, even though I wasn’t there. You know?”
“The only ones who was there for both of them was Anthony and Richie,” said Joey, sniffing.
“That’s what I was thinking too. And I know Richie ain’t no rat.”
The Le Baron hummed along quietly. Not bad for a leased car, thought Teddy. But who wanted to be driving a leased car? The thought never occurred to him before. What’d he have to show for himself? A leased car, insurance forms, and a bunch of lawyer’s bills? Another hot flash gave way to a sudden chill. His life was getting smaller and smaller. If he wasn’t sitting in some lawyer’s office, he was going for his radiation. Or he was stuck at home, hooked to his dialysis machine. It was worse than prison. He started getting angry all over again.
Joey took Exit 38 and swung the car onto the Atlantic City Expressway.
“All right,” said Teddy. “Then we have to get Anthony to come in and talk to us.”
“I wouldn’t come in if I was him.” Joey wagged his head as he reached into his pocket for change to pay the toll. “I’d be afraid we’d try to whack him.”
“Heh, heh, that’s sick,” Tommy Sick said with a machine-gun laugh. His forehead bulged unnaturally, and he scratched a septum that had been deviated since his father broke his nose for trying to get into the bathtub with his sister at the age of seventeen.
Joey pulled up at the toll booth and took a good thirty seconds to figure out that a dime and three nickels were worth as much as a quarter. He gave the girl in the booth the change and a look that made her back away from her window.
“Maybe you’re right,” said Teddy as they drove away. “That’s the whole problem with getting people involved who don’t belong to this thing of ours. They don’t have that blood loyalty. Fuckin’ mutts. They deserve to die.”
“Every one of them,” said Joey.
“Heh, heh,” said Tommy Sick.
Three lines appeared on Teddy’s brow. “I told Vin to get that kid away from me. But he kept after me, ‘Just gimme another chance, Ted, just gimme another chance, I’ll straighten him out.’” He threw up his hands in disgust. “So first I gotta tolerate him putting nothing in the elbow, when he owes me his life. Then I gotta see him running around on my niece. And now look at the mess we’re in. The kid Anthony’s talking about us to the feds. He’s a rat.”
He was silent for a couple of minutes. Atlantic City was visible at the edge of the horizon. The red names of the casinos burned like bonfires in the darkening sky.
“You know who I blame for it?” Teddy said in a sullen voice. “Vin. It’s his fault for not controlling this kid. I love the man, but I gotta tell you, Joey, I feel like he betrayed me. He told me he’d take care of it, and then he sold me out for this son of his, that isn’t even his son. While I have to suffer with the memory of my own boy. I’m sick about it, Joey. I’m sick.”
“Heh, heh, that’s my line, Ted,” said Tommy Sick.
Teddy leaned forward and punched him in the back of the head.
Traffic was starting to slow down. They were stuck in a long, long trail of cars arriving early for the fight at the Doubloon.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” asked Joey. “Anthony ain’t gettin’ anywhere near us.”
“If you can’t get to the rat, you get someone who’s close to him,” said Teddy, as though it had all been decided by some great force beyond him.
Joey frowned and wiggled his buttocks uncomfortably in his seat. “You’re not talkin’ about whacking Vin, are you?”
Teddy’s expression did not change. “The rules is the rules,” he said. “You got any idea what he’s doing tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Joey shrugged. “I talked about coming over and watching the fight with him tonight. But you ain’t serious, Ted. Vin loves you.”
“Have him stop by the Marvin Gardens house,” Teddy instructed him firmly. “Tommy, you go to the fight and keep an eye on Anthony. We’ll kill two birds, one stone.”
