The Loser

         Eddie Hinton liked the Angry Duck. The beer was cold and cheap, and you could always count on them to have the game on. It was the type of place where you could blow off a little steam before heading back home to the wife and the kids and the mortgage. Plus the guys were always there.

         It was a Thursday evening when he walked in the door to find the usual gang already huddled up at the bar.

         “Hey, Eddie, your loser crew is up again,” Joey said loudly as Eddie pulled out the barstool.

         “Well, you ought to know about losers,” Eddie shot back. He waved to catch the bartender’s eye and pointed to the tap at the bar.

         Joey shook his head and grinned. “Same old Eddie. Always wants to dish it out, but just can’t take it. Just like your Blackhawks.” He jerked a thumb up at the football game on the screen over the bar. The score said Apaches 10, Blackhawks 0.

         Eddie took a swig of his beer and set it down on the bar in front of him. The other two members of his crew, Mike and Stan glanced over at him then back to the ball game. All of them were grinning.

         “What are you losers smiling at? You think that team’s going all the way? How many times have I told you, they don’t have any depth.”

         “Yeah, you’ve told us. You’ve told us,” Mike said and waved his hand in Eddie’s direction.

         “Well, I need to tell you again, because some of you losers still don’t seem to get it.” He glared at Joey, then took another swig of his beer.

         “The problem with the Apaches all comes down to Johnson. He just can’t handle pressure—” In a split second, the man on the screen took two steps backwards, spun to his right, then smoothly launched the football in a graceful arc down the field. The bar erupted in cheers and catcalls.

         Joey and the boys pounded the bar then looked back at Eddie’s still gaping mouth before guffawing and shaking their heads.

         “Tell me again about the problem with Johnson?” Joey asked in mock seriousness. “You were saying something about being a loser?”

         Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “Anyone can get lucky.”

         “Luck?” Joey elbowed Stan. “When’s the last time you got lucky Eddie?”

         “That’s enough Joey.”

         “It is? Who says? You? The big expert?”

         Eddie pushed his barstool back and stood up.

         “Hey, easy man,” Stan reached out and grabbed him by the elbow. “You know Joey’s just jerking your chain.”

         Eddie shook off Stan’s hand and took a step closer to Joey. Joey didn’t bother to stand up.

         “Go on Joey, tell him you’re just playing,” Stan said.

         Joey looked over at Eddie, shrugged his shoulders, then went back to watching the football game.

         “You see?” Stan said. “He didn’t mean anything.”

         “Yeah he did.” He put his hand on Joey’s shoulder. “You got a problem Joseph?”

         Joey shook off Eddie’s hand and looked at the rest of the group. Stan looked like he’d just eaten a lemon, and Mike was studying the foam in his beer. Eddie’s eyes bored into the side of his face.

         “No Eddie,” he finally answered. “I don’t have a problem with you.” He reached over and took a long swallow out of his beer then clunked it down on the bar. “I’ve got a problem with your lack of understanding of the glorious game of football.”

         Raucous laughter came out of the three of them as Eddie’s glare wilted under the assault. Mike was the first to regain his wind.

         “Eddie, why don’t you just admit that your team stinks? The Blackhawks just don’t have it this year. Stop acting like it’s your fault, and give the rest of us a break.”

         Eddie clenched his mouth tightly, pondering his response. On the screen, the Apaches had the ball and were in the middle of another long drive into Blackhawk territory. He watched the screen for a moment longer, then said “I’ll bet you.”

         “What?”

         “I said I’ll bet you. I’ve got $5,000 that says the Blackhawks will beat the Guardians on Saturday.”

         The guys laughed again.

         “I’m serious. I’ve got $5,000 that says I’m right and you three are wrong.”

         Mike looked over at Stan. He pointed to his temple and began to make a small circle with his finger.

         “Where is a guy like you going to get $5,000?” Joey asked with a smirk.

         “You don’t worry about that. I’ve got it.”

         “Bullshit.”

         “I’ve been saving up. Annie and I were thinking of buying a house up in Charles City.”

         “And she’s okay with you losing $5,000?” Joey asked.

         “It’s none of your goddamn business what she thinks.” He raised his chin a little and looked around the group. “Are you in or not?”

         Stan reached his arm out and waved his hand. “Come on Eddie. None of us have $5,000. You know that.” He pointed back to the screen. “Can’t we just enjoy what’s left of the game?”

         “So, none of you are in?” He shook his head in disgust, then reached over for his beer. “I thought so. Losers.”

         “I’ll take your bet.” A powerfully built man dressed in black jeans and a tight t-shirt eased up beside Eddie. “That is, if you meant it and weren’t just showing off for your buddies here.” He pointed at the group like they were extra barstools.

         Joey grinned and elbowed Stan in the side.

         “I meant it. But I didn’t mean to share it with the whole bar. I don’t bet with people I don’t know.” He caught Stan’s eye and grinned. “Makes it hard to collect when your team kicks the shit out of the Guardians.”

         The stranger didn’t smile. “You won’t have any problem collecting. You can ask your bartender. Vince always pays up.”

         Eddie felt a little queasy. “Well, that may be true, but I don’t bet with strangers.” He turned back to the bar and cheered a minor tackle by the Blackhawks.

         “That’s alright buddy. I don’t bet with losers.”

         The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment as the group digested them. Stan let out a low whistle and Joey looked nervous, but Eddie didn’t seem to hear the comment. The big man turned to walk away.

         “Blackhawks plus four,” Eddie said without turning around. “That’s the Vegas odds.”

         Joey leaned over the other two. “Eddie, don’t be an—”

         Eddie looked sideways over his shoulder at the stranger. His black eyes were hard and shiny. “Are you in?”

         The man turned back and stared hard at Eddie, like a lion trying to decide if the gazelle was worth the effort. Finally, he said “$5,000. Blackhawks beat the Guardians on Saturday, spread of four points to the Blackhawks. Loser pays on the spot.”

         Eddie barely nodded his head, eyes fixed on the stranger.

         “Okay. The bartender knows where to find me if you need me. Otherwise I’ll see you and my $5,000 right here on Saturday.” He took a moment to survey the rest of the group, then turned and strode out the door.

         “What, are you kidding me?” Joey said when the man in black had left. “Annie’s going to lose her mind when she hears you’ve gone this far.”

         “Annie’s not going to hear about it.” He took a slow pull on his beer. “Unless one of you tells her.”

         “We’re not going to say anything Eddie,” Stan said between a mouth of peanuts. “But women have a way of finding this kind of thing out.” His crooked smile flashed then faded. “At least mine does.”

         “Well Annie doesn’t. And what she doesn’t know won’t bother her.” He reached for the peanuts. “Besides, she’ll find out soon enough when I walk in the door with that $5,000.”

         Joey started to say something but caught Mike’s eye and reached for his beer bottle instead. Above him, the post-game show was showing highlights above the final score: Apaches 21, Blackhawks 6.

         Stan looked at his watch and yawned a little louder than was necessary. “It’s getting late. I’ve got to get home.” He pushed back his barstool and stood up. “Yeah, me too,” Mike added. Eddie was staring intently at the TV screen.

         “See you later Eddie,” Joey said as he pushed his barstool back to follow the other two.

         “Yeah, later,” Eddie said. “You’ll see.”

         Eddie took the long way home. Occasional raindrops found their way through the tear in the vinyl top of the old Mustang convertible, adding to the water stain on the passenger seat. He fumbled with the radio dial, but gave up when all he could find was static. The road ahead seemed to glow in his dim headlights and he started to replay the events of the evening. No matter how hard he tried to think of a way out of it, the thought of $5,000 kept forcing its way back into his head. It would be enough to get a new car maybe, or maybe buy a small place in the Woodrows. He thought of the look on his mother-in-law’s face when he would tell her he’s taking her daughter to Atlantic City for the weekend.

         Atlantic City. You could really run the stakes up high there. With $5,000 you could be set for life. All you needed was one lucky break. He eased his foot off the gas and slowed the car for a red light. One $5,000 break.

         He pictured that red coffee can in the freezer with the money in it. There was at least $800 in there, for sure. Annie was saving it for school. She’d never stake him for this bet. That was her problem, ever since High School. She couldn’t think big. He needed to do the thinking for her. She’d be happy about it when he came home with that $5,000.

         The light changed and he eased his foot off the clutch. He made the left turn onto the boulevard and drove past the used car lots and fast food restaurants, the windshield wipers smearing the bright lights into a neon haze through his windshield. By the time he got home, the rain had stopped.

         He unlocked his front door and closed it carefully behind him. The apartment was dark and quiet. He flicked on the hall light and hung his jacket on the peg on the wall. There was a note by the phone. He walked into the kitchen and paused for a second in the dim light, studying the white mass of the refrigerator. $800. Safe in the freezer. He opened the freezer door and squinted into the dark.

         “Eddie, is that you?” a voice called out from the bedroom. He pulled the door closed.

         “Yeah.”

         “What time is it?”

         “It’s late.”

         He heard blankets rustling then saw the light come on. He turned off the hallway light and walked back to the bedroom. Annie looked at him through sleepy eyes.

         “How’d it go?”

         He sat on the bed and started to take off his shoes. “It didn’t. All they had were general construction jobs. Minimum wage stuff.” He stood and took off his pants and shirt and dropped them on the floor. “All they want are cheap Mexicans.”

         “Larry called and said he might have something for you. I wrote down the number.”

         “Yeah. I saw.” He climbed into bed.

         “Are you going to call him?”

         “Jesus, I don’t know, alright?” He rolled over on his side. “None of these losers have any real work. It’s all bullshit.”

         Annie started to say something, then stopped. She reached over and turned out the light.

         “I have to work late again tomorrow,” she said after a few moments. “Cheryl called in sick.”

         “Well don’t worry. I won’t wait up.” She didn’t reply.

         The sun was high in the sky by the time Eddie got out of bed. He yawned, scratched the back of his head, then made his way slowly to the coffeepot in the kitchen. Like always, Annie had left just enough for a cup for him, and like most days recently, the burner had cooked it into a gray sludge by the time he woke up to pour it. He clicked the switch off and went to the front door to retrieve the morning paper.

         He rifled quickly past the headlines and advertising inserts and pulled out the thin jobs section and spread it out on the table. He grabbed the pencil from the phone stand and began scanning the categories. Miscellaneous. Food Service. Security guards. Medical technicians. He paused for a moment and tapped at a picture of a young woman in blue scrubs with the point of his pencil. She looked happy and confident with her new career as a trained phlebotomist. He mouthed the word, remembering the first time he had heard Annie say it. She said it was a solid career, and once she got the training, she could find work just about anywhere. He smiled and shook his head. They had told him the same thing about welding. But Annie was convinced, and had been slowly saving the $1,500 to cover the entry fee and tuition at the Beale Medical Career Institute.

         Eddie slashed a dark line through the smiling phlebotomist before glancing down at the construction careers. Day laborers, plumbers, and concrete mixers. He slashed lines through each of the descriptions then threw the pencil down on the table and leaned back in his chair. The refrigerator clicked on with a rattle and hum behind him.

         He looked over his shoulder at the old white appliance and the yellowing postcards of Atlantic City and Dover Beach on the door. He turned back to the newspaper, his mouth slowly forming a hard straight line. “Screw it,” he finally said and stood up and walked over to the refrigerator. He opened the freezer and rummaged until he found the small red coffee can.

         He popped off the plastic lid and pulled out a thick roll of bills tied in place with a thin yellow ribbon. He glanced at the kitchen door, then untied the ribbon and began to count ice cold twenty dollar bills. He was in the middle of counting a second time when the phone rang. He left the stack on the counter and answered it.

         “Hello.”

         “Eddie? This is Bill.” His voice was raspy and annoyed. “You know, from the Duck.”

         A small bomb exploded in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. “Yeah?”

         “Listen, that guy you were talking to last night—the big guy, he--”

         “That big guy we were all clowning around with?” Eddie forced himself to smile. “What’s he want?”

         “He says he wants to talk to you.”

         He dropped the smile. “Did you give him my number?”

         “No.” His shoulders slumped. “But he’s looking for you. Says he wants you to know something.”

         Eddie darted his eyes across the kitchen at the stack of twenties on the counter. “Well, I don’t know what he wants with me. Did you talk to any of the other guys?”

         “He says you made a bet.”

         “What bet?”

         “On the game. Saturday.”

         “A bet? We were all talking trash about the game. Joey, Stan—all of us.” He paced back and forth across the worn linoleum.

         “Listen. I don’t know what you said to this guy, but I’m telling you he’s looking for you and he says you made a bet on the game.”

         “Okay.” His mind began to spin. “Did you tell him anything?”

         “I said you usually came in around 7, but I didn’t know where you lived.”

         “Good.”

         “I don’t like this guy Eddie. He’s trouble.”

         “Yeah. Well, it’s all a misunderstanding. A joke. Jesus, what a loser!” Eddie started to smile again. “Hey Bill, if you ever see him again, you tell him that for me. He can’t take a joke.”

         “He said he’ll be back in tonight.”

         “Okay,” Eddie answered after a long pause. “Then maybe I’ll just have to explain it to him myself.”

         Bill hung up and Eddie stared at the silent receiver for a minute before hanging it back on the wall. He felt wobbly, like he had had too much to drink, but at the same time everything was too clear. Jesus. He grabbed a glass from the sink and filled it from the faucet. It was warm, but it steadied him.

         Annie’s money was spread out in front of him. There was at least $1,000 dollars , not enough to make the bet. Maybe he could just be upfront with the guy? Tell him he didn’t have $5,000 but could come up with $1,000? $1,000 was still a lot of money. And if he won?

         He glanced sideways at the help wanted ads spread out on the table then back to the neat piles of small bills in front of him. Mentally he counted each one again, his eyes lingering over the stacks of fives, tens, and twenties. The pretty yellow ribbon caught his eye, and he reached for it and began to smooth it gently between his fingers, thinking.

         He checked his watch, then gathered the money together and carefully tied the yellow ribbon around it. Annie said she’d be working late tonight. He still had time to get down to the bar and back before she got home.

         Larry’s message about a job turned out to be a bust, and Eddie got to the Hungry Duck a little later than he wanted to. Joey’s blue Dodge was already out front, and there were a couple of other regulars smoking in the parking lot. He nodded at them as he went inside.

         Joey and Stan were seated at the bar, and Bill was over at the far end drying beer glasses. Eddie marched straight over to Bill.

         “So, that guy been here yet?” He hoped he sounded casual.

         “Yeah.” Bill squinted as he held one of the glasses up to the light. ’

         “Well, did you tell him it was a joke?” He tried to add a laugh to his voice that he didn’t feel. Bill didn’t seem to notice.

         “Didn’t get a chance. I told him you hadn’t been in yet, and he said he’d be back later.”

         Eddie felt some relief at the comment. He’d shown his face, so maybe now he should just go back home. Bill would tell the guy it was just a joke. If it weren’t, and he didn’t have the money, would he walk into the bar bold faced and ask if the big guy was around?

         “Hey Eddie, you asking the man for a date, or are you going to order a beer?” Joey yelled out from the other end of the bar. “I’m trying to get some service down here.” Next to him Stan laughed and motioned for Eddie to take a stool.

         “I’m just down here telling him he doesn’t need to serve beer to losers, Joey, and he’s been following my advice.”

         Bill dismissed Eddie with a wave of his towel and put a glass under the tap. “Alright Joey, I’ve got it.”

         “Bring me one too Bill,” Eddie said and walked over to sit down.

         “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight Eddie,” Stan said after taking a long drink.

         “Why’s that?”

         “Just thought you might be out on a job or something, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I heard Larry was looking for somebody.” Bill brought over the beers and Eddie took a long drink before answering.

         “Well, he wasn’t looking for me.” Joey started to say something, but he caught a sharp glance from Stan and decided to hold it.

         “Would you look at these clowns?” Stan said suddenly and raised his mug towards the big screen over the bar with his mug. “It’s like once they lost Kowalski, they forgot how to play ball.” Eddie took another drink and nodded. A few of the regulars started to trickle in and fill up the empty stools at the bar.

         “It wasn’t Kowalski that did it, it’s Tolman. The man couldn’t coach a girl scout troop into selling cookies. Now you take Colburg, that was a coach....” Eddie pretended to focus on the action up on the screen and ignore Joey’s latest color commentary. He just needed to finish his beer and leave. Not get caught up with Joey’s mouth. He took another long draught. Drink and leave.

         On the screen one team had missed the first down and was in the huddle. The barroom door opened, and sunlight flashed on the screen, the glare blocking out the deliberations. When the door closed, Eddie stared at the screen with grim determination. The team came out of the huddle, but Eddie was concentrating on the reflection of a large figure dressed in black. He took a seat alone at a table in the back and signaled to the bartender for a beer. Eddie leaned back and slammed his mug down on the bar. “Damn! I need to piss!”

         Joey snapped his head over. “Fourth and two and you can’t hold it?”

         “No. Tell me if they make it.” He slid off the bar stool and beelined for the men’s room. The mix of cheers and jeers from the bar told him everyone’s focus was on the game, and he hoped it would stay there long enough to slip out the side door.

         He walked into the hallway and almost bumped into one of the regulars who was hurrying back to the game. “Better pee quick Eddie, or you’ll miss it.” Eddie scrunched up his face and nodded then squeezed past him. The door at the end of the hall was marked fire exit. It was blocked by three cases of canned bar olives. Eddie started for the door, but sensed someone behind him and ducked into the bathroom.

         The room was empty. He leaned over the sink and rubbed his face then looked up at himself in the mirror. He thought he looked tired. He turned on the water and splashed it onto his face, feeling the fog lift a little bit from his beer-clouded brain. He reached for the paper towels. The door behind him swung open and Vince came in.

         Eddie avoided making eye-contact and finished drying his hands. He began whistling a snatch of a song he heard on the radio on the way over, crumpled the paper towels into a tight ball, and tossed them into the trash can. He turned and gave Vince the brief nod strangers sometimes give each other and made a step for the door. Vince didn’t move.

         “$5,000 dollars.”

         “What?”

         “I said $5,000 dollars. Saturday. That’s the bet.”

         Eddie put on a puzzled face and pretended to think. After a moment he grinned.

         “Ah, Christ. Was that you?” He chuckled. “I’d definitely had a few that night.”

         Vince crossed his huge arms. Even in his leather jacket they looked like they were carved out of granite. “That doesn’t change anything. A bet is a bet.”

         Eddie scowled. “Are you crazy? I may have been talking shit, hell that’s all we ever do around here, but that’s all it was.”

         “It was $5,000 dollars,” Vince said. He jammed a stubby finger in Eddie’s chest for emphasis. “And you’re all in.”

         Eddie felt a sudden urge in his lower bowels. He stepped backwards and shook off Vince’s finger. “Lay off me,” he said in a loud voice. He hoped someone outside would hear, but Vince just took a quick step forward. He grabbed Eddie by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall. Eddie gasped. Vince held him pinned and wriggling against the wall. He leaned in close, his sneering face inches from Eddie’s gaping expression.

         “Let’s not play any games Eddie.” He pulled and twisted the shirt in one hand and drew back his sledgehammer of a right fist. “You know who I am. You know we’ve got a bet. And you know you’re going to be here on Saturday to pay what’s coming to me.”

         Eddie’s eyes widened. “Alright, alright,” he stammered. “Sa-Saturday.”

         Vince showed his teeth. “That’s right. Now here’s a little something to remind you.” Eddie shut his eyes and clenched for the blow. He didn’t hear the door opening.

         “Damn that was a play,” a man in a worn Red Sox cap said to someone behind him. He caught sight of Vince and Eddie standing next to each other and paused for a moment with a puzzled look on his face, then shook his head and walked over to the farthest urinal.

         Vince shot one more look at Eddie and turned to walk out. “See you on Saturday,” he said. He paused at the door. “By the way Eddie, I’d really try to fix the hole in that Mustang’s roof. You never know who’s poking around your driveway after dark.”

         Eddie left the bar without saying goodbye to the guys and drove straight back to his apartment. He bolted the door and lit up a cigarette, thinking. He didn’t have $5,000. No one he knew had $5,000. Hell, most of the guys he knew couldn’t lend him $50.

         Even Larry said he was thinking of pawning some of his tools to keep his business running. The pawn shop might buy his old TV, but that wouldn’t be worth $20. He pictured the pawn shop in his mind. They had too many TVs and stereos. And old guitars. And guns.

         He was still thinking about the pawnshop when the scraping of the deadbolt brought him back to his senses.

         “You’re back early,” Annie said surprised. She dropped her purse on the side table and closed the door.

         “Well, I still pay rent here,” Eddie answered, stubbing out his cigarette.

         “Yeah, thank God for unemployment checks,” she muttered under her breath and pushed past his chair and into the kitchen.

         Eddie watched her rummage in the fridge. Her long blonde hair was still done up in a bun from work. He tried to remember the last time he had seen it any other way.

         She turned around and caught his gaze.

         “What?”

         She put a package of hamburger on the counter.

         Eddie softened. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a little worried about you.”

         “Worry about yourself.”

         She took a mixing bowl out of the cupboard then opened the hamburger.

         “I’m serious.” He stared at her intently to gauge her reaction. “Some of the guys were saying there’s been some break ins in the neighborhood. Big guy. Wears a black leather jacket.”

         She turned towards the counter and plopped the hamburger into the bowl. “I can handle myself.”

         “I know, I just wanted to see if you had seen anyone like that, you know, lurking around.”

         She opened a box and emptied it into the mixing bowl. “No.”

         He tried to change the subject, but couldn’t get anything more from her than monosyllables. They ate in front of the TV in silence. By the time Eddie came to bed she was asleep.

         He woke up to the sound of Annie closing the front door. He squinted at the alarm clock. 7:30 AM. He rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen. His mind was already racing, but he drank a cup of coffee anyway. At 8:00 he dressed then came back into the kitchen. He opened the freezer and took out the red coffee can. He opened it and pulled out the thick wad of cash, eyeing it for a moment before stuffing it into his pocket. Then he put the lid back on and stuck the can back in the freezer. It was time to get ready.

         The pawnbroker showed him a wide selection, and Eddie picked out a blued .38 snub nose with a concealed hammer. It was going to be his last resort, and he didn’t want any conspicuous bulges in his jacket. He added a box of ammunition, peeled off 10 bills from the money wad, and paid the man. He loaded it in the parking lot then drove back across town to the Shell station.

         Inside, he bought a map and asked the clerk for $25 on pump number 8. He was pumping gas and thinking about the best way to hit the freeway when he saw the battered green Camero pull into the lot. He turned his head, but it was too late.

         “Hey Eddie!” Joey’s voice called out from the other side of the pump.

         “Oh, hey Joey. What’s up?” He turned back to the pump handle and pretended to be topping it off.

         “Me and Stan were just over at your place looking for you.” Eddie glanced over his shoulder and saw Stan’s bulk in the passenger seat. He cursed inwardly.

          “Why’s that?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

         “We came to pick you up for the game.”

         Eddie tightened. The revolver in his pocket suddenly felt like a brick. He coughed.

         “Come on Eddie, let’s go show those losers what the Blackhawks can do, huh?” Stan called out from his seat. He was already a little drunk.

         “You guys go ahead, I got something to do first.” He finished filling up and screwed on the gas cap. “I’ll meet you there.”

         “Bullshit!” Joey said with a smile that begged to be slapped off his face. “You know the Guardians are going to wipe the fucking floor with your team, and you’re afraid to show your face after shooting your mouth off about ‘em all season.”

         “Fuck you Joey!”

         “Ooooh.” Joey puckered his lips and made a kissing noise. “See Stan, I told you this loser didn’t have no balls,” he said.

         Eddie started for the car. Joey rolled up the window and laughed as Eddie pounded on the door. After a moment he cracked the window.

         “So, we’ll follow you to the Duck?”

         Eddie gave him the middle finger, then got into his car and drove out of the station. Joey and Stan followed him. He turned left onto the boulevard and headed to the bar.

         The place seemed more crowded than usual, and the three of them had to take a table in the corner. Joey waved three fingers at Eileen the waitress, and she nodded and continued to make her way around the bar. Eddie watched her go from table to table, scanning for any sign of Vince.

         “Okay, so today’s the day we show this moron how a winning team plays the game, right Eddie?” Stan said waving a woozy hand in Joey’s direction.

         “What’s that?” Eddie answered.

         “Don’t bother him Stan,” Joey interjected. “He’s busy praying that those losers don’t completely embarrass themselves.” He laughed loudly and nudged Stan with his elbow. “Keep praying Eddie, your Blackhawks are going to need it.”

         Eddie started to reply but was cut off by the arrival of the beers. Joey told the waitress to start a tab for the table before Eddie could object, then started his usual running commentary as the pre-game show drew to a close. Stan objected occasionally, always following with an “isn’t that right, Eddie?” then taking a drink. Eddie mostly stared at his beer bottle, whipping his eyes over to the door every time a new customer entered the bar. On the screen, the Blackhawks won the toss and decided to receive. The game started.

         Eddie sat stiffly in his chair, immune to the growing excitement around him. The cheers of the crowd and the banter back and forth between Joey and Stan seemed to be taking place in another room. He caught himself patting his jacket pocket for the third time, and forced himself to put both hands on the table in front of him. He scanned the bar again. Vince still wasn’t there.

         At halftime, Stan’s raucous back slapping brought him back to the game.

         “Can you believe it Eddie?” he said over the growing collection of long necks on the table in front of him. “28 to 3! Jesus, it’s going to be a blow out!” For the first time, Eddie consciously looked up at the score. Stan was right. The Blackhawks were winning. He rubbed his eyes, looked at the screen again, then looked over at Joey. That permanent smirk was finally gone from his face. Eddie smiled and leaned back in his chair. He reached for his beer and took a long drink.

         Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He needed to call Annie. He stood up and reached for his cell phone. “Back in a minute,” he said and went outside to get away from the drone of the bar. He looked at every table on the way out. Vince wasn’t there.

         Outside he moved away from the gathering group of smokers and dialed his home number. He let it ring while he looked at the cars in the parking lot. No answer. He dialed Annie’s cell phone, but got her voice mail. Maybe she was still on her shift. That was good, because he could surprise her when he got home. He put the phone away and went back inside. Stan had ordered a new round for everyone.

         “Take it easy over there, Joey,” Eddie said when he got back. “Loser’s got to pay the tab, and I’m not sure you’re good for it.” It was Eddie’s turn to nudge Stan with his elbow and Stan guffawed loudly.

         Joey reached for his bottle. He took a long, slow swallow, then wiped his mouth with a flourish. “Ah, that’s good. No beer like free beer.” He leered at Stan and Eddie, smacking his lips. “And that’s what it’s going to be when your Blackhawks choke in the second half.” He laughed and turned back to the screen. The game had started again.

         Eddie felt rattled by the comment. He drilled a hole in the back of Joey’s head with his eyes, concentrating on the base of his skull and imagining how easy it would be to just reach out and pop him one. He noticed that Stan didn’t seem to mind Joey. He just sat there with an alcoholic grin on his dumb face, absorbed in the action and the growing excitement of the crowd.

         “First down!” he said and pounded his bottle on the table. “You see Eddie, they’re going to do it!” He reached out and tugged on Joey’s sleeve. “Joey. Hey Joey.” He laughed and tugged until Joey finally turned around.

         “What goddammit?”

         Eddie relished the irritated tone and grinned at Stan, silently egging him on.

         “I just thought of something.”

         “It’s a miracle. Call Father Conway.”

         Stan continued to pull at his sleeve, more for balance now as he leaned forward. “No, I just thought that it’s just like Eddie’s been saying all season.” He paused for a moment, then blurted out “the Blackhawks are going to beat the Guardians!”

         Joey turned away disgusted, but Eddie suddenly realized Stan was right. The Blackhawks were going to win. He leaned back in his chair letting it all sink in as the game clocked ticked off the final minutes of the 4th quarter. The Blackhawks are the winners. He sat bolt upright. “I’m the winner,” he murmured to himself.

         The buzzer rang and the final score flashed across the screen. The bar erupted in cheers.

         “I’m the winner!” Eddie shouted. He stood up and grabbed Stan in a bear hug and shouted it out again.

         Joey looked at both of them, moving his mouth like a fish gasping for air. He tried to make a remark, but the words wouldn’t come. Eddie was too excited to notice. He clapped Stan on the back and said “nobody go anywhere. I’m going to order us something to celebrate with.” Joey tried to wave him off, but Eddie just laughed. “Don’t worry Joey, it’s on me. I’m never too proud to buy a drink for a loser.”

         He walked towards the bar, picking his way through the raucous crowd. He scanned each face at the tables as he passed, looking for Vince. He smiled at the thought of the look on the tough guy’s face when he opened up that black leather jacket to reach for the $5,000. $5,000. A winner at last! Wait until Annie hears about it.

         He pushed his way to the cash register and waited to catch Bill’s eye. He waved him over. “Great game, huh Bill?” he shouted over the hum of the crowd’s post-game arguments and re-plays.

         “Yeah. Good crowd tonight.”

         Eddie leaned over the bar. “You haven’t seen Vince have you?”

         Bill looked at him blankly.

         “Vince, the big guy in the leather jacket. The one who was looking for me.”

         “Oh, was that his name?” The light came on in his eyes. “You just reminded me.” He slid over to the cash register and opened the drawer. He came back with a folded piece of paper. It was stapled shut, but Eddie’s name was written on the outside. “He dropped this off earlier today.”

         Eddie took the note and stepped back to read it. It was in Annie’s handwriting. It said she had met Vince at work about six months ago, and she was sorry. She didn’t blame him for taking her money. By the time he was reading this, they would be gone. He read it twice. There wasn’t any mention of the $5,000.

         “Something wrong Eddie?” Bill asked when he was finished. The screen above his head was still flashing the final score. Blackhawks 28, Guardians 7.

         Eddie pondered the screen for a long time before he answered. “Nope,” he said. He folded the note and stuffed it into his jacket. “No problems at all.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. “And give me a bottle of that scotch.” He pointed to the expensive stuff on the top row. “I’m buying a loser a drink.”