I said I didn’t know exactly what the hell he meant, and he said, “What I mean is, betting is done on the spread of points between the scores of the two teams. To illustrate, if Pipskill was favored to win by, say, ten points, I could bet on a closer score — take the other team and nine, for example — and thereby stand to win a considerable sum,” and I said, “You mean we wouldn’t even have to lose the game?” and he said, “Oh, gracious, no,” and that’s no damn lie, he really said oh, gracious, and I thought about it and said, “Well, to tell the Goddamn truth, I don’t even see anything particularly wrong in just missing a few to keep the score a little closer,” and he sighed and said, “Personally I share your practical view of the matter, but I must say that many people do not, the authorities among them, and if we were to come to some agreement and it became noised about, I would be in more trouble than I care about, and you would be in a great deal more than I.”
Well, I wasn’t so God-damn thick that I couldn’t recognize a threat when I heard it, even if he said it in the same voice he’d have used to ask the time of day, and the funny thing was, you wouldn’t have thought it would have scared a lousy Brownie, coming like it did from a guy who looked like a cross between Santa Claus and a pansy, but as a matter of fact I got a little cold spot inside me and knew he meant what he said and a hell of a lot more than he said, as far as that goes, and maybe I got that feeling from him just because he was such a gentle looking little bastard and said these things so quietly with his little red mouth smiling all the God-damn time. Anyhow, I said I wasn’t fool enough to go around beating my chops about something like that, and besides I didn’t think it would work, because old Micky Spicer was a damn good sharpshooter himself and might run the score up in spite of everything I could do, and he rubbed his hands together and said, “That’s a very astute observation and shows you have your wits about you. I’m familiar with Spicer’s record, just as I’m familiar with yours, and you are undoubtedly correct. Tell me, do you know your teammate well?”
I said we were roommates and old buddies, and he said, “Do you suppose you could influence him to enter into a three-party agreement?” and I said I wouldn’t put it past him, and he said, “Good. Suppose you negotiate it,” and I said I wouldn’t be seeing Micky until school started, and he said that would be time enough and I could inform him of results through Candy, and then he stood up to let us know it was time we were getting the hell out, and at the door he said, “You will not use my name with Spicer until he’s committed, of course,” and I said I wouldn’t, and Candy and I went on around to her apartment and had some drinks and some fun, and it was almost four o’clock when she threw me out.
Well, after I’d seen Francis Z. Ketch that first time, I didn’t see him again all the rest of the summer, but I kept seeing Candy whenever she figured it was my time on the schedule, which wasn’t often enough by a damn sight, the way I looked at it, and she kept telling me that Ketch was counting on me to set things up with Micky whenever school opened again, and I said he didn’t have to worry about it any, and if I knew old Micky like I thought I did he’d be right in there with his shoes off when it came to earning another buck. I kept on working for Arnold Hamshank, too, but there wasn’t really a hell of a lot of work to it, and about a week before time for school to start I quit the job and checked out at the hotel and went on back out to the frat house at Pipskill and got settled. When I left, Arnold Hamshank shook my hand and told me what a privilege it had been to do something for one of the boys on the team and to be sure to stop in and see him now and then, and I said I would, and the truth is, I couldn’t understand why anyone would be so God-damn crazy over someone just because he happened to play basketball, but I just thought it and didn’t say it, you can bet dollars on that.
I was all set in the room when Micky got back, and it was pretty good to see the goofy bastard again, as a matter of fact, and I wondered if I ought to come straight out with the Francis Z. Ketch deal or wait around for a time that seemed just right for it, and finally I decided to wait because you couldn’t always figure just how old Micky would take one thing or another, and he was a crazy bastard, like I said, and that’s the truth of it. Meanwhile, over a month went by, and I went into town three or four times and had some fun with Candy, and the last time I went she said, “How you coming with this Micky Spicer?” and I said, “What you mean, how am I coming?” and she said, “You know damn well what I mean. Is he going to play ball or not?”
“Well,” I said, “the truth is, I’ve been sort of waiting for the right time to ask him and haven’t got it done yet,” and she said, “In case you’re interested, you damn well better get it done because basketball season’s getting pretty close and Franzie Ketch wants to know what he’s got to look forward to, and he told me to tell you,” and I said, “Well, you can tell Franzie from me to keep his God-damn drawers on,” and she said, “Oh, sure, I’ll tell him, Junior, and while we’re on the subject, it might interest you to know that I’ll damn well be keeping mine on, too, as far as you’re concerned, if you foul up and miss out on the heavy sugar.”
If you think she didn’t mean it, you’re crazy, and I knew damn well she meant it, so I went back out to Pipskill with the idea of putting it right up to old Micky, and as it turned out, it happened to be the right time I’d been waiting for, anyhow, and this is the way it was. He was flopped on the bed in the room when I went in, and he was grumbling to himself about something, and I said, “What the hell’s the matter with you?” and he said, “In case you want to know, I’m just God-damn sick of being stony at least half the time, that’s all.”
I could see right away that I’d never find a better time to come in with Francis Z. Ketch, and I said, “What the hell brought this on?” and he said, “Oh, nothing, nothing at all, except I’ve got a chance to make hay with a sweet doll, and damned if I’m not broke, and everyone else seems to be, too, and I can’t borrow a damn dime,” and I said, “Well, don’t look at me, I don’t have any God-damn money,” which was a damn lie, because I had some, and he said, “I sure as hell wish I could find a way to turn a few extra bucks. That hundred a month was all right for a lousy freshman, but a junior’s got more expenses,” and I said, “That’s the damn truth if it was ever spoken,” and then I stopped and looked at him, and he could see I had something on my mind, and pretty soon I said, “How’d you like to make some big dough and cut out this crap of borrowing a few stinking nickels and dimes until payday?” and he said, “How?” and I said, “Well, I know how I can put you in the way of it, if you’re really interested.”
He lay there on the bed and looked at me, and after a minute or two he said, “Bull! If you know so damn much about how to earn big dough, how come you haven’t even got a lousy fin to loan me?” and I said, “Well, I only said I knew how to do it, I didn’t say I was doing it, and to tell the truth, I can’t get in on it myself unless you’re willing to get in, too, and that’s the damn truth,” and he said, “I don’t get you,” and I said, “It’s not so damn hard to get if you’ll just pay attention, and as a matter of fact it only amounts to missing a few buckets now and then.”