a bad tooth scowled at his beer. “You gotta the luck of the Irish today, paisan. That’sa man named Teddy. He takea you numbers, huh?”

I thanked him, and wandered down the bar. Scagnetti mirrored me on the other side.

“Excuse me,” I said, “you Teddy?”

The man looked at me, then looked at Scagnetti. Scagnetti pursed his lips and nodded “he’s okay,” then took one hand off the rag and rubbed his thumb and index finger together, indicating I might have a couple of cents sliding around in my wallet.

“Yeah,” he said. “What’s it to ya?”

“I want some action on the series,” I said. Scagnetti faded away to the center of the bar, and went back to rubbing his glass, looking into the distance, a stoic guardian, an ancient ruin.

“Well,” he said, pulling a small book out of his coat pocket, “who you want?”

“C’mon,” I said, hedging. “The favorites.”

“Whaddya mean the favorites?” he asked, irritated. “Am I a mind reader over here?”

“New York,” I said.

He flipped through his book. “They’re four to one. You like that payout?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” I said, “I want to put down a lot. I mean, a lot.”

“So how much is a lot?” he asked.

I told him a certain number.

He whistled, and flipped his book closed. “I can’t take that much heat, but I can take you to someone that can, if you want to go for a ride.”

I looked over at Scagnetti for some reassurance, but he stood facing the door, rub, rub, turn. Rub, rub, turn.

No sense being a big girl’s blouse about it. This going just how I planned it. Smooth as silk.

“Sure,” I said, “let’s hit the bricks.”

We stood, and Scagnetti awoke. “Hey, my friends!