I still had no idea why he wanted me to meet him there. He’d never seemed like the gambling type, but then again, you never really knew what people did in their private lives.
“Thanks for coming,” he said as I got closer.
“No problem. Kind of an unexpected invitation,” I said, smiling, trying to read his intentions as he looked back at me.
His face was serious, as usual. “Come on. I already put a bet in on this race, let’s go outside and watch them run.”
“Okay.”
He handed me a ticket and I saw that he’d put down four dollars on the number eight horse, Happy Wanderer, at six-to-one odds.
We went out to the stands and sat down next to the other degenerates, who were already clapping and screaming. Funny how those familiar sounds brought back so many happy memories, even though I knew better now. All of those times that I’d thought my dad was bringing me somewhere happy, somewhere positive, and it had all been one big lie.
I let my eyes comb through the people around me, making sure he wasn’t there. It was possible he had a bet in on this very race, and he would be shaking his fist and yelling right along with the others.
“So, I obviously brought you here for a reason,” Jansen said, as they led the horses to the starting gate.
“Obviously,” I said. “Unless you just wanted my help handicapping the races.” I took the racing form out of his hand and looked at the stats for the race.
“I didn’t know you bet the ponies,” he replied.
“I don’t.” I smiled at what I was seeing on the racing form. “You’re getting six-to-one on Happy Wanderer, but from what I’m seeing, she’s ten-to-one at best. She hasn’t had a win over six furlongs and this is a seven-furlong race. Also, she’s a classic frontrunner and they’ve got her on the outside lane, which makes it even less likely that she’ll get off to a good start.”
I handed the form back to him and he just stared at me. “What are you, fucking Rain Man or something?”
“My dad used to bring me here all the time.”
“Oh.” Jansen sighed. “And here I was, thinking I was going to teach you something.”
“That’s what this is about? You’re teaching me something?”
A moment later, the starting gun fired and the horses exploded from their gates, hooves pounding on the track, kicking up clumps of dirt as they raced.
“Shit, Happy Wanderer came out slow,” Jansen said.
The eight horse was already four back going into the first turn. “She’ll be lucky to even show,” I told him.
He glanced at me. “You’re a smart kid, JB. Maybe too smart for your own good.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that.”
He looked down at his feet. “Maybe I can’t teach you anything about horse racing that you don’t already know. But what do you know about greyhounds?”
“Not much. My dad hated going to the dog track. He said there was no skill in betting on dogs.”
“Maybe he was right,” Jansen said. “And maybe that has to do with how they treat the animals.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Greyhounds are treated terribly and they race them into the ground. Within a few years or less, they become financially worthless and the owners put them down.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it is. And you know, in MMA right now, there are a lot of organizations and training teams that treat their fighters like greyhounds. Or worse.”
I looked at him, still unsure of his point. “And?”
“And,” he said, finally looking me in the eye, “I won’t do that to you.”
“Thanks. I mean, I appreciate that, but I don’t know why we came here—”
“I’m not giving you the fight next month.” He said it so fast that I almost couldn’t process it.
The crowd erupted as the horses came down the stretch, with Happy Wanderer coming in sixth. People around us threw tickets on the ground, cursing luck and fate as they dispersed to bet on the next race.
I shut my eyes and tried to calm my suddenly fast beating heart. “You’re not giving me the fight?” I opened my eyes and looked at him again. “Because of that little scuffle between me and Uriah?”
“No,” he said. “At least, that’s not the main reason. I just don’t think you’re ready yet to go to the UFF. Physically, you’re great, but you need more time to get emotionally ready.”
“You’re taking away my shot?” I frowned, as if not believing the words when they left my mouth.
“I can’t do something that I think would harm your career in the long run. I’ve given it a lot of thought, JB.”
“Drew Ellis wants me to sign the deal. He told me so himself.”
“But after meeting you, he was worried. He told me you seemed like a loose cannon.”
“Like there aren’t any loose cannons in the UFF right now?” I scoffed. “It’s not the chess club. We get in a cage and beat the shit out of each other.”