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.