Chapter Five
Part 4
I left after that last game and went home in an
abject condition.
I couldn’t believe I had lost even more money.
The situation was officially
exigent.
Unless some magnanimous
benefactor suddenly swooped
in from on high with a huge check or some unknown wealthy relative
died and bequeathed his
estate to me, I was in serious trouble.
My parents were out to dinner, so at least I had the house
to myself to wallow in my
despondency.
I walked into my room and closed the door quietly behind me. I sat
down on the edge of my bed and looked at the clock. It was 10 p.m.
Football curfew had started. The night stretched out in front of
me like a tunnel of torture. I knew there would be no sleep, that
I would toss and turn all night thinking about what I had done and
that if I didn’t sleep soon I would tank in the game tomorrow. One
night of high-stakes gambling, and I had ruined everything. Why
had I ever come up with that stupid idea?
I had to chalk it all up to ego. It had felt so good to take
Dominic down that I had wanted to experience that high again. Little
did I know I was setting myself up for the exact opposite. This
was the lowest of lows. And it was
interminable.
With a sigh, I stood up and slipped out of my varsity jacket.
I flipped my computer on to check my email, maybe distract myself for
a little while. Right after I typed in my password, a pop-up add appeared
on my screen. I automatically went to close it—I have a particular
aversion to
those annoying ads—but my finger froze, hovering over the mouse.
PokerParty.com! Be a winner! it read.
There it was. A perfect
presage.
Just when I was floundering for a way out, a way out appeared.
My heart started to pound, and my palms were instantly bathed in
sweat. Online poker. Of course. I didn’t have to wait for the Wednesday
and Friday night games to win back my money. And I didn’t have to
feel like I was fleecing my friends. These things were available
24/7 with strangers from around the world putting up their cash.
But they’re dangerous, a little voice in
my mind told me. Because they’re available all the time,
you can also lose all the time.
But even as I thought this, I found myself clicking on the
link. I was under duress here,
and I was ready to grab at any life-preserver thrown my way. I took
a deep breath as I was welcomed in to the colorful website. It looked
pretty cool. The minimum bets were
nominal,
so I could be circumspect while
feeling out the situation. Besides, I bet a lot of the people playing
on this site had never even played before. I would be an expert
among a plethora of
novices. All
in all, it seemed like the perfect way to get ahead on my debt.
I clicked the “Sign Up” button and read through the steps
entailed in
becoming a member. I had to be 21, of course, but that was easy
enough to fudge. I had my check card with my name on it, which also
happened to be my father’s name. The benefits of being a “junior.”
Both of our names were on my bank account as well, so they had no
way of knowing I wasn’t Michael Senior. Feeling
intrepid and
in control for the first time since Wednesday night, I quickly signed
up. Before I knew it, I was creating a screen name—“Mikey_Sr,” just
for good measure—and I was welcomed into a game.
I took a deep breath as the “dealer” asked me to place my
first bet. The good thing about this was there were no distractions.
No one around me being obstreperous or
irksome. The bad thing was
legerdemain would
be much easier—not just for me, but for everyone. I wouldn’t be
able to see anyone’s tells or read their eyes, which was a big part
of the game. But I figured that as long as I was
diligent and
paid attention, I could come out on top.
I clicked on the mouse and placed my first bet.
