Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [36]
“How’d you get hooked up with such a control freak?”
“Control…How did you know that?”
Zak rolled his eyes so Nadine couldn’t see. “Wild guess.” What did she know about this kind of man? She was nineteen. She’d probably never run into anybody like William Potter III before. “Okay. I won’t call the police, but you have to do something for me in return.”
“What?”
“Every time he follows you or you see him on the street, I want you to write it down and note the time, the date, and who you were with. Build a file. Keep it somewhere he won’t find it. That way if you ever have to go to court to get a restraining order, instead of saying, He follows me all the time, you’ll have a record with times and dates.”
“We’re not going to end up in court.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay, but we’ve known him since I was in the second grade. I’m only doing this to keep the police from getting involved. Scooter’s pushy, but he’s not a lawbreaker.”
“I already told you how many laws he’s breaking.”
“He thinks he’s still in love with me.”
“No. He thinks he owns you. That’s an entirely different proposition.”
15
August
“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll bet a million bucks. Giancarlo’s bike against a truck. Any one of them trucks. Pick the fastest. Myself, I’d take that Land Rover.”
“Hugh, you don’t have a million dollars,” said Zak.
“Okay, a hundred. Bet a hundred dollars you can’t beat Giancarlo down that hill.”
“To the bridge?” asked Scooter.
“To the bridge,” said Hugh, growing excited.
“Forget the hundred. I said a grand. You have a thousand dollars?” Scooter stepped close enough that Hugh backed away.
“Sure.”
“Let’s see it.”
“I’m not stupid. I don’t carry it everywhere I go, but I got it. You got a thousand dollars?”
Scooter pulled out his wallet and fanned a sheaf of hundreds.
“Why don’t we just forget the money?” said Morse. “And Giancarlo, you don’t want to do this, do you?”
“I don’t mind.”
“What’s the matter?” Scooter stepped close and once again forced Hugh to step back. “Losing your nerve?”
“A thousand dollars,” said Zak. “He’s good for it.”
“Are you going to guarantee it?”
“If that’s what you need.”
“Then you have a deal,” Scooter said, staring at Zak with the arrogance and contempt of somebody who knew in advance that he was on the winning team. Somehow the bet had become an issue between Scooter and Zak. It was outrageous, because Zak had never bet a thousand dollars on anything in his life. They were like a couple of bragging schoolkids and Zak knew it, but knowing it wasn’t enough to prevent him from playing it out. Zak could see that every man and woman in the Jeep camp believed it was inevitable the truck would win and the cyclists were fools. The bike group, on the other hand, appeared divided about the possible outcome. While Zak knew Giancarlo Barrett was the best natural downhiller he’d ever ridden with and that he thrived on competition, he also knew the bike Giancarlo was riding wasn’t a full-fledged downhill model and this run wouldn’t be his fastest.
Jennifer said, “Scooter, it’s not a fair race and you know it.”
“Hey, this retard wants to give me his money, who am I to stop him?”
“I’m not a retard,” Hugh said. “I had a brain injury.”
Hugh had put on a lot of great drama at Station 6, but he was on his way to an Oscar with this. “We shouldn’t be gambling,” said Roger Bloomquist, glancing around uncertainly at his friends. “Maybe we should keep this friendly.”
“There’s nothing friendlier than a thousand dollars changing hands,” said Scooter with a smirk. “We’ll be friends for life. Isn’t that right, Hugh?” Scooter laughed viciously, spit erupting through his gritted teeth.
“We’re already friends for life,” Hugh said. “All my friends are for life.”
“You up for it?” Zak asked Giancarlo as the two of them walked to the road and stared down the hill.
“I think so.” The steepest section was the first twenty yards, with an almost sheer rock wall on the left and a knoll on the right, the knoll giving way to an open field that seemed pasted to the side of the mountain. It wasn’t going to