James Swain - Super Con

He tried to read the articles but had to stop. He was so damn angry with Travis that he couldn’t concentrate, and he slid the articles back into the envelope for another time. He had first discovered Travis switching dice at a joint called Palace Station. The big man’s technique was caveman crude, yet he still managed to get the money. Travis knew when to move, and that was more important than perfect sleight of hand. A familiar white Suburban pulled in. The parking spots in front were taken, and the Suburban drove around back and parked two spots away.

He got out holding the gun at his side. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air, and he wondered if Travis would notice and take off running. Travis also got out and spotted him.

“Hey, Billy, is that you? I thought we were meeting inside.”

“Change in plans.” Billy started walking toward the Suburban. He raised his arm and took aim. At this short distance, it would be impossible to miss. Travis’s legs buckled.

“Why are you aiming that thing at me? What did I do?”

“You set us up tonight, you fucking piece of shit.”

“Come on, Billy. You know me better than that.”

“You’re denying it? Then why the crack about needing money? Like I haven’t paid you a king’s ransom? New house, new cars, and this is how you repay me.”

“I didn’t set you up. For the love of Christ, I’d put my life on the line for you, man.”

“Are you saying you’re not in trouble?”

“I am in trouble, but that doesn’t mean I set you up. The two things don’t go together.”

“Is that a fact.”

“On my father’s grave, I’m telling you the truth.”

Travis wasn’t backing down. Either he was being straight or plotting his final stand. Until now, Travis had been loyal, and Billy decided to give him a chance to explain himself.

“Get in the driver’s side of the limo and strap yourself in. Then put your hands on the wheel and leave them there.”

Travis did as told. Billy went around to the passenger side and also got in. He flipped the key in the ignition, causing the dashboard to light up and cast shadows onto their faces. He rested the gun in his lap with its barrel pointed at the big man’s stomach.

“Explain yourself,” he said.

“My wife has a baby sister named Jackie,” Travis said, his voice trembling. “Jackie’s lowlife husband bolted and left her with three kids to raise, so Jackie started embezzling money from the credit union where she works as a bookkeeper.”

“How much did she steal?”

“Four hundred big ones.”

“That’s a lot of money. You sure she isn’t snorting blow?”

“One of her kids is special needs. It eats up a lot of cash. The credit union was getting audited, and Jackie called my wife screaming she was going to jail, so in a moment of weakness, I wired her the money. It cleaned me out.”

“Is that why you sold us out tonight?” Billy asked.

Travis jerked his head. “What are you talking about?”

“A Chinese gangster named Broken Tooth paid us a visit. He knew where to find us, and he has my cell phone number. You gave him that information.”

“It could have been one of the others.”

“Fat chance. They were with me.”

“So?”

“Broken Tooth’s men threatened to shoot us if we didn’t play ball. They also kidnapped Leon and are holding him for safekeeping.” He was tired of talking and shoved the gun’s barrel into the soft part of Travis’s belly. The worst way to die was by gut shot. As endings went, it was excruciatingly painful and made the victim needlessly suffer.

“They had guns?”

“That’s right. You sound surprised.”

Travis rested his forehead against the steering wheel and shut his eyes.

“Spit it out,” he said.

“Broken Tooth called me last week right after the Rebels won their divisional game, and he asked me to meet him. I asked him how he got my number, and he said Tommy Wang took our cell numbers off Pepper’s cell phone and gave them to him.”

“So you didn’t give him my number.”

Travis lifted his head and opened his eyes. “No sir.”

“Good. Keep talking.”

“We met and had drinks. Broken Tooth acted cool, and he was sharp. He said that members of the Rebels’ defense were dirty, and that if they went to the Super Bowl, he was sure they could be bribed into fixing the game. You told me that other hustlers approach you with scams all the time. I didn’t see this being any different.”

“How much did he pay you to tell him where to find us?”

“Ten grand. I needed it to cover my bills.”

“You could have called me.”

“Karen said the same thing — call Billy, he’ll bail you out. I was afraid you’d think I was a liability and can me.”

“Like this was a better move?”

“I’m sorry, Billy, I really am. Broken Tooth wants you to approach the Rebels players and fix the game. If anyone in this town could pull it off, it’s you.”

“You think I could fix the Super Bowl and get away with it?”

“Yeah. And make a killing in the process.”

Travis wasn’t being straight with him. Travis might be flat broke, but the rest of the crew wasn’t, and one of the others would have lent him the money. Something else was going on here, and Billy wondered if the big man was holding a grudge and his meeting with Broken Tooth was payback. Billy didn’t know what the grudge was about and imagined he’d said something out of line and bruised Travis’s ego. Over time, it had festered and led to this act of betrayal.

It was enough of a reason to shoot Travis and dump his body out in the desert for the vultures to pick apart. But he wasn’t going to do that. Travis was the first person he’d ever recruited for his crew, and they had a long, profitable history together. He wanted to believe that they were friends, and this was nothing more than a dumb mistake.

As a kid, Billy had found a stray dog that he’d brought home with him. He’d loved the dog and let it sleep at the foot of his bed. One day, out of the blue, the mutt had chomped on his hand. His old man had tried to take the dog to the pound, but Billy had thrown a tantrum, and his father had caved and let the dog stay. Billy had worked with the dog, and it had never bit him again. Travis was like that dog. With training, the big man could be brought around.

But not tonight. Business came first, and he wanted to hear more about these dirty football players. If they’d fixed games before, then there was a possibility they could be talked into fixing the Super Bowl. He withdrew the gun and opened the passenger door.

“I’m sorry, Billy. I’ll make it up to you,” Travis said.

“You can start by buying me a drink,” he said.

The party inside Remedy’s was going strong. The place had no real personality, just a collection of pool tables and a lounge with a phony gas-lit fireplace, but that didn’t stop people from having a good time. Billy grabbed a corner table and flagged a waitress. Soon they were drinking Captain Morgan and Coke and acting like nothing had happened between them.

“How much did Broken Tooth tell you about these players?” Travis asked.

“Not much,” he replied. “He gave me an envelope with photographs of guys who play for the Rebels along with newspaper articles about them. Judging by the photos, they look like a bunch of rich jocks. I can’t see them fixing the big game.”

“But you don’t know their history.”

“They’re already rich. What’s their motivation?”

“These guys are hustlers. It’s what they do. Do you follow the NFL?”

“Not since I left New England.”

“Patriots fan?”

“My old man was a diehard. I lost interest when I moved out here.”