Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
The bookie is my only lead.
Gavino has all the evidence.
But if I can find something that bookie has?
I take out my phone and flip through my notes. There, typed at the bottom of my impressions of Mark, is the guy’s name. Jim the bookie plus an address I found on Google.
It can’t still be good, can it? But there’s only one way to find out.
“Excuse me? Can we go somewhere else?”
He frowns at me in the mirror. “Uh, sure, we can do that. I just need to update the app. Where to?”
“It’s not far actually.” I read him the address and he types it in with a grunt.
“All right, you’ll get charged for that last trip and we’re locked in for this one.” He whistles and goes back to driving, ignoring me all over again, like it’s totally normal that I just decided not to go to the airport after all.
The Uber guy drops me off outside of a rancher in a quiet neighborhood. It’s not a nice house, but it’s not the worst in the world. The driver drops my bags on the ground and frowns at me, squinting at the house. “You okay? You need me to stick around?”
I shake my head and tip him in cash. “No, thanks, you were a big help.”
He shrugs and drives off, leaving me alone.
I stand there staring at the house, wondering what the hell I’m doing here. It’s early evening and the sun’s going down behind the hills. It’ll be dark soon, and I have no way of going anywhere. I can’t return to my apartment, which means I’ll need a motel for the night. My mind’s spinning with the logistics of staying here, but I’ve come too far to turn back now.
I need to be the girl that got caught going through Malcolm’s desk, not the scared girl I am right now.
Even though this is insanity. I mean, if Gavino hears about this, I’m completely toast. This is going to look awful no matter how I try to spin it, and yet I can’t help myself. If I turn around and walk away now, it’s finished, completely over, and I won’t accept that.
I’ve come too damn far.
I stride up to the front door, trying to figure out what I’m going to say in my head. Hello, you were a bookie years ago, you know, an illegal bookmaker? I was hoping you kept good records and will give them to me for free. Thanks! That might work if I smile enough.
I knock, a nervous wreck, and an older gentleman answers. He’s got dark skin, wide eyes, and a deep frown. “Can I help you, young lady?”
“Gavino Bruno sent me to discuss an important matter with you.” The words spill out as if by magic and I instantly regret taking this route.
His entire demeanor shifts instantly. “Gavino sent you? Well, damn, that’s fast. I spoke on the phone with another one of his people just twenty minutes ago, he said Gavino’s coming to pay me a visit in a little while. You’re early but that’s all right. Come on in then.” He turns and ambles inside and I stand there in total shock. Gavino’s coming here? He’s following up with the bookie? I find it hard to believe, and yet there’s no reason for this man to lie.
What does it mean that Gavino’s still following leads?
I take a deep breath before working up the courage to follow him.
This is insane. I mean, seriously, there are at least two groups of people that would gladly kill me if they found me here. Both Benedict and Gavino have it out for me, and yet I’m still following this guy into his quiet little home filled with pictures of a pretty wife and nice-looking kids.
“My name’s Jim, by the way,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he leads me into an office. It smells like mothballs and old leather, and there’s an enormous black metal filing cabinet that takes up nearly the entire far wall. He starts rifling through it. “I started looking as soon as Mr. Bruno’s people called but you caught me a little early.”
“Nice to meet you, Jim. My name is—” I hesitate just a second. “Jolene.”
“Jolene, pretty name. Like that song?”
I grin at him. “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene…”
He laughs and nods along. “That’s right. I bet you get that a lot.”
“All the time, but it’s okay. I like the song.”
“Good song, good song.” He mumbles to himself as he flips down to another drawer. “I wanna make a confession. I know bookmaking isn’t exactly an honorable profession, right? I never wanted to be a damn bookie. It was never appealing. But I had this cousin who was giving it up so I bought him out, took it over, and made a killing for almost ten years. That was until the internet started, and bookmaking got dangerous and not very profitable, so I gave it up, sold the book to another guy. Lucky for you though, I kept impeccable goddamn records, because the easiest way to lose money is to forget who owes you what.” He curses, moves to another drawer, and starts rifling.