Today’s game promised to be a corker. Men hurried toward their seats, anxious to see the action on the field as the play had started moments ago. Clay took his time. He loved the atmosphere of the park, the gathering of hometown residents to cheer on their team. The sense of belonging to something greater than yourself. It gave one hope in mankind.

He wondered if Florence had ever been to a game.

Is this how you act with all of your conquests? Treat them like dirt afterward and kick them out?

She now wanted nothing to do with him, which was by design. He’d pushed her away, told her not to come back. So her absence should’ve come as a relief. The extra time had been devoted to work, and the enterprise’s bookkeeping had never been in better shape.

Except he was miserable. Sitting at his desk like a machine, calculating and writing, a damn ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. Almost a week and he still looked up at the office door each time it opened, hoping that she’d returned.

Wasn’t distance supposed to help? Shouldn’t his dreams center on someone else now that she’d left? He hoped these emotions ended soon. Not sure how much longer he could take missing her.

You’re glorious, Clay.

He swallowed hard. They couldn’t have a relationship. The idea was ludicrous. She was bright and pure, a sheltered angel that needn’t associate with downtown scum such as himself. Someday she’d thank him for setting her on a different path.

He purchased a bag of peanuts and made his way to his seat along the first-base side. A large pair of shoulders blocked his view. “Peanut?”

Big Bill turned around, his mustached lip curled into a snarl. “You’re late.”

“Game’s just started.”

“I’ve been waiting almost thirty minutes on you.”

He didn’t owe Bill an explanation. He didn’t owe this man a damn thing. “What do you want, Bill?”

“I want you to call off the bank. I can’t lose my house. My wife and kids live there, Madden. My mother.”

“I heard the wife kicked you out. Tough break.”

“All your doing, you bastard,” Bill snarled. “You have ruined my life, all because I dared to get what was mine.”

“Wrong. You tried to blackmail me then had my club raided. You crossed a line. Your chance to negotiate is over.”

“You have no proof I was involved in that raid.”

“I don’t need proof. I know the coppers involved, all guys under you. They didn’t stay long, just busted up the place and ran.”

“You’ve made enemies, Madden. Any number of people could’ve been responsible.”

True, but in this case only Bill was responsible. “I’m going to bury you, Bill. So deep that a patrolman in Queens will think twice before breathing my name.”