I really should have known better. Every time I introduced my friend Dave Molina to another woman, he ended up marrying her. Never mind his marital status at the time. Divorced or married, Molina was a romantic, a Spaniard, and would go through fire, mountains or hell itself in pursuit of romance.
We were in Phoenix, AZ. working for a start-up daily newspaper owned by a publisher with money problems. Molina's current wife had left him and had gone home to her parents in Texas. It was /Friday morning, payday, and Dave came by my desk.
'Hey, Buddy,' he said. 'How's about getting us a date for tonight?'
I gave him a wary look.
'I'm lonely,' he said. 'What about that airline stewardess you meet on your flight to Las Vegas. Maybe she has a friend.'
Shaking my head, I dialed Pam on my cell phone. She was in Albuquerque waiting for a plane to fly her back to Phoenix. I told her about Dave and added, 'He's married, but he's a nice guy and I don't think the marriage is going to last.'
No problem said Pam. She had a friend, another flight attendant, and they would be happy to meet us for dinner and drinks. We could pick them up at the lounge at Sky Harbor International Airport at 8 p.m. I gave Dave the news and he smiled.
'Buddy, you're the greatest,' he said.
I was down to my last $20 and Dave had less than $18 on him. We waited patiently for 4 o,n, si we could be paid.
The publisher greeted us with a sorrowful look. He couldn't pay us until Monday. Sorry, he said. He needed a transfer of funds. We didn't listen to the reason. We were crushed. We had dates with two stunning flight attendants and no money to take them anywhere.
I came up with an idea. 'Let's go to Turf Paradise,' I said. 'The horses are running. Maybe we can pick a winner.'
We arrived at the track in time for the seventh race. I knew one of the trainers. His name was Red and he was in his 80s, a slow talking Arizonian who chewed tobacco and who spoke with a country drawl. I explained our situation to him. Red nodded slowly.
'Well, fellows, I have a horse running in this race and one in the final race. They are both long shots but they're in decent shape and they just might do the job.'
He gave us the names of the horses, Frisco Bay and Harniny, I hurried to the seller's window and wheeled both horses in an exacta.
Frisco Bay broke seventh in a nine-horse field and finished ninth, trailing the leader by a dozen lengths.
Dave gave me a gloomy look. I shrugged and held up our final ticket. Harmony went off at 22-1 odds. Like Frisco Bay, the horse broke next to last. I shook my head as I saw our horse on the outside. Harmony started moving up when they reached the far turn, but there were still a lot of horses he had to beat.
We had $2 and a ticket left.
Harmony started moving up on the outside as they came to the head of the stretch. The leader by three lengths was the longest shot on the board at 40-1. I screamed as they headed for the finish line. It was a photo finish. When the winners were posted, the exacta paid $428.
Red came by and smiled. I tried to hand him a $20 bill, but he refused it.
'Some other time, boys,' he said. 'Enjoy the weekend.'
Just in case you're wondering, no, Dave did not marry the stewardess.
Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.
(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).
