“How much?” snapped Sonny Lieberman.

Sonny’s swift reply was instant proof he was a betting man. What Billy didn’t know was that Sonny Lieberman was the worst kind of betting man. One who loved to win but absolutely hated to lose.

“Twenty bucks?” suggested Billy.

“You’re on!” said Sonny. And so a fateful bet began.

Billy Constable noticed that the moment he mentioned the subway bet and Sonny Lieberman said, “You’re on,” Sonny picked up his pace. Billy picked up his pace too, matching Sonny stride for stride, or trying to. But Sonny Lieberman was taller than Billy and took longer steps. Billy had to walk faster to keep up. He was forced to take two or three steps to every one of Sonny’s. It was like a Doberman and a Yorkie trotting down the street. When the two crossed Twenty-second Street heading for Twenty-third Street and the subway station, Sonny Lieberman folded his new umbrella and started to run.

So did Billy.

As the two entered the subway station entrance, Sonny Lieberman took the steps two at a time heading down to the turnstiles.

Billy switched to two steps at a time.

Sonny’s subway card was already in his hand.

So was Billy’s.

There they were, Sonny Lieberman and Billy Constable, subway cards at the ready, running down, down, down the long dark stairwell, the two men racing to the platform. At roughly the stair’s halfway mark, Sonny began to pull ahead of Billy. You could see that athletic Sonny was focused, a picture of perfect coordination. His left arm sliding down the railing for balance, his right hand—the one holding the new umbrella—swinging like a pendulum by his side, his long legs in a high-step gallop, his chin jutting forward like the bow of a racing yacht.

Billy was just as focused. His chin would have been jutting forward too if he had one. But no matter how fast Billy Constable took the steps, Sonny Lieberman took them faster. Billy’s mind and body were churning just as furiously as Sonny’s, but it didn’t seem to matter. Lieberman’s lead grew and grew. If one could have frozen that moment in time—the two men in midstride, the tall one ahead of the shorter one—and told the shorter man to think about what he had inspired, the shorter one might very well have realized several things:

1. Never bet against your boss.
2. Never make impulsive bets.
3. Forget about numbers 1 and 2. Gambling was Billy’s nature and there was nothing he could do about it. Billy Constable was just like the scorpion who couldn’t control his nature, either. After the scorpion talked the turtle into giving him a ride across the river on the turtle’s back, the scorpion stung the turtle in midriver. The turtle said, “Why did you just sting me? Now we will both drown and die.”

“I can’t help it,” answered the scorpion. “It’s my nature.”