“I know. Sorry I didn’t make it, but something came up.”

There was a moment’s pause while Dante absorbed the news. He didn’t seem upset. “Happens to all of us. A phone call would have been nice, but here you are.” His manner was casual, as though he couldn’t have cared less. Phillip felt a cautious relief. He’d been aware of the deadline he’d missed and half expected Dante to make a fuss.

He said, “I appreciate your understanding.”

“Would you quit with the fucking appreciation? It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Sorry.”

Dante moved away from the chest of drawers. He put his hands in his trouser pockets and ambled along the periphery of the room, checking the room-service menu still sitting on top of the television set. “What exactly came up? You had a social engagement, something you couldn’t tear yourself away from?”

“I meant to call, but I got sidetracked.”

“Well, that explains everything,” Dante said. “So how’s it going now that you’re on point? You don’t look happy.”

“I played well at first, but I’ve had a stretch of bad luck. I didn’t want to short you so I was waiting until I had the full amount.”

“Fair enough. Which is when?”

“I was just on my way down to the casino. I was at the table all day and came up to rest, you know, freshen up . . .”

“Empty your pockets and let’s see what you’ve got.”

“This is it for now.” He picked up his chips and held them out to Dante, who stared.

“Four hundred dollars’ worth? Out of the ten grand I trusted you with—you got four hundred left? Are you out of your mind? I made you a loan. I told you how much it was going to cost you. Any ambiguity? I don’t think so. You’re into week two and the vig’s up to five grand. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s all I have. I can get the rest of it in a week.”

“I didn’t offer you a layaway plan. You knew the terms of the deal. I did what I could to help you. Now you help me.”

“I’m not able to do that, Mr. Dante. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I feel terrible.”

“As well you should. How do you propose to raise the rest of it? You’ve got no credit left.”

“I was hoping you’d give me an extension.”

“I already did that and this is what I get. You told your parents about the money you owe me?”

“Oh, no, sir. Absolutely not. I promised to give up gambling after they bailed me out last time. I’ll tell ’em if I have to, but I’d prefer not.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“I told her I was going camping with a friend.”

“You call this camping?” Dante shook his head. “What am I going to do with you? You’re a moron, you know that? Big ego, hot talk, but in the end you’re a putz. You pissed all your money away and now it’s my money you’ve blown. And for what? You think you’re a poker champ? There’s no way. You don’t have the skill, the talent, or the brains. You owe me twenty-six grand.”

Phillip said, “No, no. That’s not right. Is that right?”

“You’re on the hook for my expenses getting over here.”

“Why?”

“Because I came on your account. How else am I going to talk to you when you don’t show up when you said you would? You missed our appointment so I had to come on short notice, which meant chartering a flight. Plus, I got these two goons to pay.”

“I can’t do it. You told me twenty-five dollars per hundred on ten grand . . .”

“Per week.”

“I understand, but that’s only five grand. You just said so yourself.”

“Plus interest on the interest, plus the late fees, plus expenses.”

“I don’t have it.”

“You don’t have it. You have nothing of value anywhere in the world. You own nothing. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I could give you my car.”

“Do I look like a guy who owns a used-car lot?”

“Not at all.”

Dante stared at him. “What’s the make and model?”

“1985 Porsche 911, red. It’s worth over thirty thousand dollars. It’s in pristine condition. Perfect.”

“I know the definition of ‘pristine,’ you asshole. What do you owe on it?”

“Nothing. It’s paid for. My parents gave it to me for graduation. I’ll sign the pink slip right now and hand it over to you.”