I quietly slipped down the hallway into my bedroom, being careful not
to wake any of the family. I quietly moved into my bedroom and
stripped down quick and jumped into bed. Jennifer turned over, aware
of my presence.
"Oh you're home."
"Yes, dear and I'm okay."
"You smell like alcohol."
"I'm sorry, I'll brush my teeth."
"Thank you," she whispered and turned over on her other side.
I once again, I snuck down the hallway, into the bathroom, so that I
could brush my teeth. Afterwards I rinsed with Listerine, the heavy
glass bottle difficult to hold after I sucked down a few beers that
were finally getting into the bloodstream. I could barely keep it in
my mouth it burned so bad. Ibrushed my teeth a second time to put some
life back into my mouth.
Soon after, I crawled back into bed, and Jen was inquisitive about how
the night went.
"Not bad, not bad at all."
"Did you play poker?"
"Yes, I played for a little bit."
"Paul..."
"I didn't lose any money. I actually gained money."
"How much money?"
"Well I spent twenty and came back with one-hundred fifty."
Silence.
"It was easy; like taking candy from a baby."
Silence.
"It was a fun night, though. I had a few beersand I hung out with the
guys and we watched theIllinois-Wisconsin game. Next week they are
doing the same thing at Mike's house."
"Paul, be careful. I've heard terrible stories about people who have
become addicted to gambling and it catches up with them. I don't want
anything to happento you."
"Don't worry, Jen. As soon as I start losing money, I back out. I play
my odds. I'm smart about it. Like I said before, it's easy."
Silence.
"I'm going to sleep; I'm not really in the mood to argue right now."
"Okay, well goodnight babe."
"Night, Hun."
A few times a month became a few times a week. A few times a week
became every day. It wasn't just cards, either. I was addicted to
gambling. I couldn't help it. I would be listening to a Big Ten game
on the radio and I would gamble with my customers and 'bet them five
bucks' that a certain play would happen. Eventually, it became greater
and greater value. I started going to casinos and different places to
play poker, having one-hundred dollars for a buy in instead of ten or
twenty. I had surpassed the mark of the money that had been given to
me, and I was well on my way to the $250,000 mark- and ithadn't even
been a year yet. And Jen? She didn't have to know. She brought home
her paycheck and I brought home mine. I took care ofthe bills, taxes,
and bank statements. We hadn't ever worried about money since we had
our first income wallop. As far as she was concerned,I had gotten
promoted and had to go to numerous business meetings and was
alwayslate because I was checking up on my drivers night after night.
Really, I had just receiveda small raise for being with the business
for six months. I didn't consider it lying. I was helping outthe
family. I was doing what was necessary to help them and keep themsafe.
The debt I owed and the money I needed to get was a distant thought. I
needed one year's salary to get the money, something that poker
provided in a few months.
Then the letter came.
I opened a strange letter,completely plain except for a typed version
of my name and address on thefront. It didn't even have a postage
stamp. Once inside, I found a typed sheet of paper with nothing else
but a location and time. I knewthe place; it was the restaurant that
we had steaks at the night after our inheritance. The letter was
signed in the same type as the rest of the letter, and it was signed
"Uncle Jack." Something felt very wrong.
I went to the restaurant after work the next day, hiding the letter
from Jen. I didn't need to worry her. When I walked into the
restaurant, the host took me to a table and threw another letter down
in front of me and then left at a brisk pace. I opened the envelope.
The letter read:
Do you remember when you said that you would do anything? Well, now
isyour time to prove it. As we speak, your bus is being loaded with
fifty-million dollars that needsto be transported to the north side of
Chicago. Inside the package loaded in your bus is a small bomb and a
locator in the package. If you do something stupid or do no comply,
the bomb willbe detonated and your bank account will be emptied. You
will do this before your route. This is the address that you will
deliver to:
I finished reading the letter and folded it up and stuck it in my rear
pocket. I was now going to be involved in crime, and if I wanted my
familyor myself to survive, I needed to do this.
I started to second guess my decision all the way home, wondering if
the hundred-grand was worth the risk.
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