"Seventeen-sixteen," he announced. He glanced at Vince. "Be right with you. I'm on a roll here."

"Roll, my ass," said the woman. Her voice was hard and edgy.

"Take your time," said Vince.

The action surged back and forth, and the score went to twenty-nineteen, Giardelli up. He said to Vince, "Just another minute while I put her away."

"Put your money where your mouth is," said the woman. "Fifty says you don't make it."

"We already got fifty on the game."

"Another fifty on the point."

"Sucker bet. You got it."

Giardelli stepped back to serve. The woman reached behind her back, and untied her halter top. She pulled it over her head, and let it drop to the floor. She moved up and down on her toes, ready to receive, and her breasts bounced with the motion. Anthony, beside Vince, made a sound deep in his throat. Vince glanced at him. His lips were tight with disapproval.

Giardelli grinned, and said, "Forget it, Shelley, it's not gonna work."

Shelley snapped, "Shut up and serve."

"They're cute, but I've seen 'em before."

"Serve."

"Take more than that to…"

"Serve, God damn it."

Giardelli served. The ball broke sharply away from Shelley's forehand for an ace. She waved at it futilely, then slammed her paddle on the table in disgust.

"Bingo," said Giardelli. "Pay me."

Shelley threw her paddle at him. It hit him in the forehead, and bounced to the floor. She marched out of the room.

Giardelli called after her, "Hey, you owe me a cee," but she was gone.

"You're bleeding," said Anthony.

There was a cut over Giardelli's left eyebrow, oozing blood. Anthony grabbed a towel from a hook on the wall, and dabbed at the cut. Giardelli pushed him away roughly.

"It's nothing," he said.

"There's blood all over your face." Anthony tried to dab again.

"Leave it alone," Giardelli ordered. He took the towel, and pressed it to his forehead. "That is one hell of a woman, but she sure is a lousy loser."

"Better let me put something on that cut."

"I'll take care of it. You think I never saw my own blood before?"

Anthony said in a prissy voice, "You should wash it out, and then get some iodine."

"Christ, you sound like an Italian grandmother."

"It could get infected."

"Anthony, she cut me with a Ping-Pong paddle, not a rusty knife." Giardelli held out his hand to Vince. "Sorry you came in on the middle of this."

"Happens in the best of families," said Vince.

"Give me a minute to clean myself up, and I'll be right with you."

"Take your time, and take care of that cut."

"Another Italian grandmother. You got some Italian blood in you?"

"You never know, do you?"

"Anthony, take Mister Bonepart into the living room and give him a drink." Giardelli took the towel away from his forehead, and looked at the red stain. "Christ, she got me good."

Vince followed Anthony into the living room, and found a comfortable chair. Anthony asked him what he wanted to drink.

"There was some dynamite cognac in my room."

Anthony nodded his approval. "Napier, thirty years old. You've got the palate."

Anthony went to the bar, and Vince said to his back, "Do they always play for blood?"

"The boss is a good player. Shelley just thinks she is."

"She's quite a girl."

"Girl? Did you see that face? That's wrinkle city."

"That's also a great body."

"From the neck up, she's gotta be forty. She is also a dumb cunt with no class."

"You always talk that way about your boss's women?"

Anthony brought the cognac. "I've been with Mister Gee for eight years. The women, they come and they go. This one, she'll be gone before the robins come home."

"You comfortable?" asked Giardelli from the door. He had put on a terry cloth robe, and there was a strip of plaster over one eye. He took a glass of mineral water from Anthony, and settled into a deep sofa. After a thirsty sip, he said, "So tell me about my old friend, Lewis Whitney."

"He's fine. He sends his best."

"I never see him anymore. He used to come down here for the weekend with that lovely wife of his, but now I never see him."

"He's a busy man."

"That's no excuse, we're all busy. You gotta make time to enjoy, you tell him I said that."

"I will, and I'll try not to take up too much of your time."

"Hey, for a friend of Lewis, I got all the time in the world. He said I should listen to you, so I'm listening. Something about a fix on a basketball game?"

"That's right, next Saturday night."

Giardelli shrugged. "So what else is new?"

"You don't seem surprised."

"Listen, my friend, you know how many college games get shaved every week? Team is favored to win by seven, but they only win by three. The team still wins, but a couple of players make a payday, and some wiseguy wins a bundle. Happens all the time, it's as American as pepperoni pizza."

"I didn't say anything about a shave. It's a dump."

Giardelli leaned forward. "An actual dump? You mean the favorite is gonna lose?"

"That's it."

"I don't get it, why bother? A shave is just as good, and the team doesn't take the loss."

"That's the way it's going down."

"Crazy, that's crazy." Giardelli took a cigar from the humidor on the table beside him. He offered one to Vince, who shook his head. Giardelli lit the cigar carefully, and blew smoke. "I don't understand people any more. Maybe it's me, but I don't understand. What teams?"

"Polk and Van Buren."

"Never heard of 'em."

"Division Two."

"That's why I never heard of 'em. Anthony, call Caruso and check it out."

Anthony went to the telephone, and spoke briefly. He hung up, and said, "Polk over Van Buren by five and a half."

"Any heavy action?"

"Not so far. Caruso wants to know, should he put a flag on it."

"Not yet. We'll see."

Shelley came into the room, and the conversation stopped. She had changed into tapered slacks and a frilly blouse. Both men watched as she went to the bar. Anthony did not move to help her. She poured gin and tonic into a glass, and stirred with a finger. She licked the finger, and walked over to Giardelli. She threw two fifties in his lap.

"Does your head hurt?" she asked.

"No." Giardelli put the money in the pocket of his robe.

"Next time I'll use something heavier."

"You do it again, and I'll show you what really hurts."

"You ever do that, and I'm out the door."

"I don't have to do it. Anthony'll do it for me."

"Him?" She stared at Anthony, who was leaning against the wall. "I don't think so, Carmine, I really don't. If he ever touched me, he'd never sleep easy again."

"I'd sleep," said Anthony. His voice was cold. "I never have trouble sleeping."

"Hey, loosen up, the two of you," said Giardelli. He looked uncomfortable. "We got a guest here. Shelley, this is Mister Bonepart."

Shelley looked at Vince with interest. "You play table tennis?"

"I used to. We called it Ping-Pong."

"Table tennis," she insisted. "You want a game? Dollar a point."

Giardelli said admiringly, "What a hustler. She's gotta make her money back."

Vince smiled, and shook his head.

"I'll spot you three points," said Shelley.

Vince shook his head again.

"And I'll keep my clothes on."

"Some other time."

"Shelley, we're talking business here," said Giardelli.

"Pardon me for breathing. You want me to go?"

"No, it's nothing you can't hear."

"Can I order something up?" Her voice lost its hard edge, and turned little-girl sweet. "I'm hungry. Losing always makes me hungry."

"So does winning. Order whatever you want."

"I think maybe lobster."

"This time of night? You looking for indigestion?"

"I can eat lobster anytime."