Rocky pulled away. "Come again?"
"You'll wager the entire liquor order on the winner of the Indianapolis Five Hundred." said Big Milo, putting his arm back on Rocky's shoulders. "I can clearly see that Mrs. Mitzi May is very important to you. And it's also clear that she has earned your respect and loyalty. Now you're in a position to return that loyalty by getting this supply of beverages for her free. She would be very, very grateful, right?" said Big Milo.
"Yes very grateful," said Rocky.
"And getting this high class merchandise free would make for enormous profit, right?" Big Milo said.
"Certainly," agreed Rocky.
"Maybe even bring in more clientele, right?"
"No doubt about it." Rocky slipped out from under Big Milo's arm again and stared at the big chalkboard.
"Leading to even greater financial stability by larger, more sustained income, right? You would like to see Mrs. May have all these financial benefits, right?"
"Amen, brother."
"So what do ya say? Make the wager, not for yourself, but for Mrs. May's benefit! That's what a true gentleman would do."
Rocky thought out loud, "What about making the odds two to one?"
"I'd go one better than that before the race starts but it's almost at the half way mark. Sadly one to one is the best I can do." He pointed at the big board "Fourteen cars are already out of the race so nineteen are still out there in the running."
"All you gotta do is pick a car, I'll write it up," Big Milo said. "So what do ya say? You gonna help Mitzi get good liquor free or are you gonna force her to struggle making all those installments?"
"I accept your offer," said Rocky, proudly extending his right hand. Big Milo slapped his hand together with Rocky's and shook. "A deal's a deal."
Big Milo went to the closest desk and grabbed a betting slip. He unscrewed the cap from his fountain pin and began writing down the necessary information, allowing himself a smug grin while his back was to Rocky.
"Now you need to pick a car," Big Milo said, turning back around and waving at the board.
"Who's the fastest?" asked Rocky.
"You can see who's the fastest, that's the qualification order." said Big Milo pointing to one of the number columns. "The fastest qualifier's in position one and slowest is in position thirty-three."
"Then the pole car is the one for me."
He snapped his fingers "Oh no, I forgot to mention that I've already got bets on the first twenty-one cars! Sorry 'bout that. You can pick'em from position twenty-two down to thirty-three, if they're still runnin'."
"Hey, you said I could pick any car," said Rocky.
"I said just about any car," said Big Milo with a smile, exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke.
Rocky's expression didn't change as he stared at the board. "I do like Duesenbergs. How about car thirty-two? "
"Car number thirty-two, uh-" Big Milo scanned the line "-George Souders driving. He's a rookie that started in twenty-second position. I have a bundle on Frank Lockheart. Yeah know, last year's winner, this year's pole sitter, and-" now looking into Rocky's face and not hiding his superior smile, "currently leading the race."
"Put your mark on this," he said, handing Rocky his fountain pen. Rocky also looked him in the eye and matched his smile while signing the slip.
"How much longer is this race gonna take?" asked Rocky.
Re-capping his pen and putting it back in his suit coat's breast pocket Big Milo said "It's just over the half way point. So another 95 laps. Two hours, give or take."
"Beggin' your pardon, sir" the chalkboard steward for the race leaned in to Big Milo and spoke with a low voice. "You know Gus's rules on this stuff. All wagers are cash only and no bets after the race begins..."
"Gus ain't taken this bet, I am," said Big Milo. "Besides, cash ain't comin' in over the phone lines."
"You know those calls are from bookies he trusts," the steward said. "You're bettin' with his booze, in his place o' business," he hissed.
He grabbed a fistful if the stewards' shirt and tie, pulling him in nose to nose. "You mind your board and mind your own business," threatened Big Milo, then pushed him back.
"Yes sir. Whatever you say," the chalkboard steward said.
Rocky watched as Big Milo went to one of the betting windows and pushed the slip under the window. The green-visor clad male on the other side read it, looked up, then leaned down to speak through the slot. Big Milo then bent down and exchanged heated words with him. After getting what he wanted, Big Milo went back up the spiral staircase to the mezzanine. Tug had been watching from a distance and came over to the betting window and bent down to speak with the male in the green visor. They spoke for a minute then Tug flagged down one of the runners and discreetly pulled him aside. He spoke something into one of the runner's ears, reached into his pocket, and handed him a silver dollar. The runner left in a big hurry.
Rocky came back to the cart where the refreshments were laid out and grabbed two Coca Colas from the ice-filled tub on the bottom. He popped the caps and went to the couch were Freckle had been watching the deal be struck. "What exactly did you do?" he asked, as Rocky handed him one of the bottles.
"I placed a wager on that big race," he said.
"Wager? How much?" Freckle said, taking a swig from the bottle.
"All the alcohol we're getting."
Freckle almost shot the cola out of his nose "You did what?!" he exclaimed in-between coughs.
"Don't worry cousin," soothed Rocky, taking a swig from his bottle. "It's going to be alright."
"Alright? Are you nuts?!" stammered Freckle. "We're goners! Viktor's going to kill us – brutally."
Rocky pointed to his thin, orange necktie with the cursive capitol "R" embroidered on the end. "We've got it made in the shade. I'm wearing my lucky tie," he said with his reassuring smile.