It was 9:30 p.m., and the event was at its c****x.
The crowd around the racetrack and the grandstands were all on their feet, some waving scarves, others cheering loudly.
“Graham, the race has started! A car is in the lead!” someone yelled from the stands.
“Of course!” Graham replied, lounging back and crossing his legs, already savoring his supposed victory.
“A car’s cleared the first turn, and B car’s nowhere in sight!”
Graham tilted his head back and called, “Bring out the champagne!”
His buddies eagerly hauled over several cases of champagne, shaking the bottles until the corks popped and white foam spilled over. They hollered and whooped, faces flushed with excitement, as though they’d already won.
Graham was humming, his face beaming with confidence. He’d staked everything
