Amends
Forgiveness is an act of kindness that is rarely given without being asked for. Everyday people make mistakes, own up to them and are forgiven. It may not be a natural behavior but it is one of the unique human features that has allowed us to develop and grow our society to where we are today. Without forgiveness people wouldn’t be able to trust, move forward or build anything without constantly fighting with those around them. Forgiveness doesn’t just squash a beef between individuals, it squashes an internal beef that a person may be holding against themselves. If you make mistakes and are forgiven then you will feel better than the person who never confesses a fault and finds himself at constant odds with the world around him. Forgiveness is a powerful force but it can only be given after one brings an apology and begs forgiveness.
This concept was ripe in the mind of Mike as he entered one of the bars he used to frequent. After years of abusing drugs and alcohol he found help like so many have in the twelve step program. He had to admit his problems, share his story and then go through the steps like everyone in order to get clean. Now he was more than four months sober and working diligently to complete the steps to move on with his sobriety. By entering this bar Mike had no intentions to relapse; he was actually here to fulfill one of his obligations to the program. After making a list of everyone he wronged and apologizing to each of them he had reached the bottom of his list. The last name on the list, and his reason for being at the bar, was a made-man in the mob named Henry with whom he had to make amends.
Henry sat in the back booth of the bar smoking cigarettes and sipping martinis while he watched the game on a small box TV. Mike walked in with a leather bag and removed his hat as he entered the bar. He scanned the room and caught his man completely off guard when he approached.
“Hello Henry.” He said with a meek wave.
Henry squinted his eyes as if he was trying to see the face in front of him more clearly. His eyes opened with a jump of the brow when finally he did recognize this meek man. “Mike, where the hell ya been, I haven’t seen you around in months. C’mon take a seat.”
Mike took a seat in the booth with Henry who offered him a smoke that he took with the quickness. Henry was a nice guy if he liked you and the devil if he didn’t. Mike would drink and gamble away a whole weekend at the bar making Henry a lot of money, which he liked. Mike knew that he was liked by Henry and he also knew the track record Henry had with people who wronged him. “Mack! Why don’t you bring Mike here a drink.”
“Oh, no thank you. I’ve been on the wagon for over four months now, hence my lack of presence here at the bar.”
“Well good on ya Mike, but nobody stops here for no reason. You’re thinkin’ of a relapse, or maybe just a quick round of cards?”
“No, no really I have to avoid that stuff. I came here to, uh, make amends to the people I wronged.”
Henry rolled his eyes and laughed. “Look kid, I get that alcohol anxiety too but getting drunk and rowdy a few times ain’t nothin’ you need to apologize for. We always liked you here, there’s no need for yoy to make amends.”
“No, there is. It’s not about my drinking and gamblin’ here it’s about something you probably don’t know I did.”
Henry’s demeanor changed and he leaned forward and put his elbows on the table to listen more closely.
“Quite a few years back when I was deep in the grips of drinking I was…uh…convinced maybe to…help someone rob you.”
“The poker tournament.” Henry said with a slam of his fist.
“Yes, the poker tournament, I was drunk and lost and just wasn’t thinking but here, I brought you my half of what we stole.” Mike put his bag on the table and opened it to reveal the cash inside. “That’s all of it, my half from what we took. I wanted to return it and apologize, I don’t know what you’re gonna do but I know that this is something that I had to do.”
Henry inspected the bag in front of him, grabbing a few of the stacks and estimating that this was indeed half of what was stolen from him. “Well, Mike, it really takes balls for someone to admit what they did. Especially to someone with a reputation like mine.”
Tensions rose between them as Henry stared at Mike with his rough face. Mike became very nervous as he thought this might be the last moments of his life, or at least his life with all his fingers. Then, suddenly Henry’s face relaxed and he leaned back in the booth.
“I commend you for your bravery and honesty, and I do forgive you Mike but you need to tell me who your partner was in this little crime.”
“I, uh, I really don’t want to involve anyone else. I’m taking accountability for this.”
“Well in that case then you need to bring me the other half, because I am not just going to forgive and forget something that has only partially been made right.” Henry was now projecting a powerful anger as he pointed his thick sausage fingers across the table at Mike. “You’ve done a good thing coming here today, but you will tell me who you worked with so that I may get what's mine or you will be punished for trying to get one over on us.”
Mike was terrified, trembling in his seat at the implication of this threat. “Okay, okay. It was Scott, I was drunk and able to pick a lock and he knew that. He convinced me it was a good idea and had me break into your office. We split everything down the middle, that's my half, I had to sell my fathers Rolex to get it.”
“Mike, Mike, it's okay, it's over now. You did the right thing, I forgive you. You may leave now our business here is done.” Mike got up and gave a small bow before turning and walking away. “And Mike,” Henry called out, “I better not see you fall off that wagon.”
He waited for Mike to leave the bar before calling out to his bartender. “Hey Mack!”
“Yeah boss?” The burly bartender answered.
“Find Scott, it's time that he settles up on his tab.”
*
Walking with an obliviously jovial attitude a man confidently leads his athletic looking dog along the city sidewalk. Smiling and waving to spread joy around to everyone he sees. The sun seems to shine on the places he steps and flowers bloom in his presence. He is the mayor of his block, strutting with a dog who holds the same air of importance as he. They stop at the street corner to look before crossing the intersection. As he steps out onto the street a large SUV rolls through a stop sign, turning left into a puddle that splashes over the man and the dog, narrowly missing them as it passes. The man behind the wheel gives a courtesy wave as he presses down on the pedal causing his engine to roar and cough out a lingering cloud of carbon smoke on the street corner in his wake.
This is Scott, blissfully unaware of Mike’s twelve step journey as he eats his lunch on his way back to work. He loves his SUV because it gives him the opportunity to bully sedans on the road like he used to bully band nerds back in school. In the days since he and Mike robbed the poker tournament he has calmed down though not completely cleaned up. No longer does he find himself running with rough crowds, doing drugs or staying up all night gambling. Now, that was strictly a weekend activity. He had a decent job pushing spreadsheets for some company whose main product he figured the world could probably do without. But work was hardly why he woke up and got out of bed, that idea of passion had died long ago after being beaten down by a wife and kids and bills and bad credit from that one time he had a boat that got repoed. He got out of bed and went to work because it's what he had to do, not because he had a family to support but because that family didn’t want to watch him slowly drink himself to death in his bed.
Scott slurped the last of his soda through the straw and squashed the trash together in the bag it was served in. Had he thought like he did when he was younger he might have considered how the shelf life of that bag from desirable to trash was less than ten minutes. But he didn’t do psychedelics or think like that anymore, so instead he just nicely folded the top of the bag as if it was new and handed the trash to a homeless man standing on the side of the street. Smiling and accepting the praise from the poor hungry man. He walked into work and winked seductively at the woman who had spent the morning screening calls from Scott's wife on his behalf. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it on the elevator just before his coworker jumped in to join him.
“You mind waiting till we get out of here?”
“I do, if you care then you can take the next one Paul.”
“Alright relax Scott it's fine. I wanted to talk to you anyway, did you see the game last night?”
Scott clenched his molars and exhaled sharply through his nose. “I missed it, had my daughter's spring pageant to attend.” He lied, having spent the evening before drinking and watching the game instead of attending said pageant.
“It was a great game, the wolves finally showed up at home for once.”
“You don’t say.”
“One ten to eighty nine Scott, I mean I always take the wolves and finally, they beat the spread.”
“That's great Paul, really is.”
It was silent for a moment in the elevator, Scott wondered why these things didn’t include an escape window for times like these.
“So… I guess you gotta pay up then.”
“Excuse me? That was a friendly bet between friends. You didn’t take me seriously when I said I’d put three hundred on Indiana did you?”
“Well… of course I did. You took one fifty from me last week because of the vikes. I thought this was my chance to make my money back.”
Scott laughed out of his nose and shook his head. “Sorry, I thought you knew it wasn’t a real bet.”
“Seriously? You were on me like ants on a log. You called my house as soon as the game was over to collect and now you’re gonna try to jerk me off like this.”
The elevator doors finally opened and Scott started to walk away. “Maybe next time Paul.” He said over his shoulder before strolling through the hive of cubicles to his office in the corner of the room. Being one of the few lucky ones with an actual office gave Scott a huge sense of superiority over those like Paul who he deemed as drones. While the others had to work diligently throughout the day, Scott had earned through his sycophantic subtleties, and one lucky game of cribbage, the right to lock his door, shut his blinds and close his eyes after a greasy lunch. Before letting himself drift away in a blissful midday dream Scott would check his messages and let the monotone sounds of work calls help put him to sleep. He closed his eyes as the messages began, there were appointment reminders, sales calls, a message from his wife telling him not to miss the spring pageant and then a voice that he hadn’t heard in years. It took a moment for him to identify the caller as for once this voice spoke without slurs or nonsensical run-on sentences.
“Scott, it’s Mike…uh… I know it’s been a while but I really think you should give me a call… Henry’s lookin’ for you.”
Scotts eyes opened as he lunged toward the phone to return Mike’s call. It only rang twice before his old partner in crime answered.
“How does he know?” Scott asked in a panic.
“Well because I had to come clean Scott. I went into his place, looked him in the eyes and apologized.”
“And?”
“And he forgave me, it’s really helped me move on-”
“That's the most insane thing I’ve ever heard!” Scott screamed which drew some attention from the cubicle drones outside reminding him to lower his voice. “This is Henry Bolsanato we are talking about. I once saw him puncture a guy's eardrum with a q-tip because he didn’t like watching him clean his ears. You’re telling me this guy just forgives and forgets that we knocked off thirty grand from him?”
“Well I think that speaks to the divine power of the truth.”
“The divine what are you even talking about? Ahh, what made you go and reveal this truth anyway?”
“The program, I got clean Scott and it has been a huge help for me.”
“To hell with your silly program, did it tell you to incriminate me in your program? Do you have any idea what he could do to me?” He spoke angrily through his teeth as he peeked into the parking lot through the blinds.
“Well, I guess that's why he forgave me, my apology did include a return of my half.”
“Oh God Mike, what have you done? You literally sold me out man.”
“I know, I was calling to warn you but also to ask for your forgiveness for…uh… for this.”
“Where did you even come up with fifteen grand? Oooh, he’s gonna kill me Mike.”
“I sold my dads rolex.”
“Don’t suppose he had two?”
“Unfortunately no. So you're gonna forgive me or not, it's sort of important to the whole program thing.”
Scott hung up the phone and pulled the already thinning hair on his head as he screamed into a closed mouth. His brain raced with different ideas of how to fake his death and disappear from this problem. He knew people who could forge passports and IDs, enough to get him out of the country at least. He could buy a gun for protection and avoid the bars and gaming tables, clean up the way Mike did. The only issue was that all of those options, just like anything in this area, was controlled by the Bolsanato Family. He couldn’t do anything in this town without Henry’s knowledge. There were probably already goons waiting in the back seat of his car, or a bomb wired to explode with the ignition switch. Scott knew he was fucked. His only hope was to try and find enough cash to apologize to Henry himself.
“Come in.” Mr. Abraham said when he heard a knock at his office door. “Scott, my boy you never stop by for a visit, how the heck are you?”
“I'm fine, I just, uh, had something come up. I think I need an advance.”
“An advance? Well what's happened.”
“It’s little Miley, she’s sick and needs surgery.”
“Oh haram, I’m sorry Scott, what does she need surgery on? How much do you need?”
“It's her… it's cancer, they have to cut it out. It’s going to be fifteen grand. I’ll need, like, four or five checks advanced.”
Mr. Abraham squinted his eyes, lifting one eyebrow with suspicion as Scott stared down at his shoes. “Four or five checks I don’t know. Have you checked with your insurance? They should cover your daughter's cancer, haram, I can’t believe little Miley has cancer but I can’t just advance you that kind of money you know.”
“You can’t?”
“We’re a small business Scott, you’ve seen the accounts I just couldn’t risk pulling that out for you. You know, with your history and all.. ”
“Don’t bring that into this, this is serious, more so than some stupid after hours card game. I really wasn’t cheating by the way.”
“I-I believe you Scott. That still doesn’t change my answer on the advancement. If Miley’s sick then you should check with your insurance, I’m sure it’ll be covered and if not we’ll start a fund in the office and collect donations for you.”
Scott waved him off and walked out of the office still trying to figure a way out of this situation. He grabbed his keys and left knowing that he wouldn’t get any work done while this was on his mind. Plus he thought that infant cancer excuse should get him a few paid days off. Enough time to figure this whole thing out, he thought. As he walked through the office he was talking quietly to himself, raising suspicion in front of all his coworkers. He called the elevator and when Sean, another coworker, called for him to hold the door Scott jumped out and decided to take the stairs instead. Descending the stairs he deliberated his options, he could run and hide or try to face it head on. If he faced Henry head on he knew that he needed fifteen thousand dollars in order to live. If he ran and hid he would either have to abandon his family or try to take them with. Taking his wife and small children would not go over smoothly and possibly endanger them in the process.
He stopped at the front door to glance around the parking lot for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Some loitering goons or maybe a luxury car he didn’t recognize but everything seemed normal. Perhaps they hadn’t found him yet. This made the idea of running seem like a more viable solution. Scott had family in the west, and though he never really enjoyed the western motif, the idea of joining them on the plains seemed attractive. He knew it was quiet out there, boring, but that mundanity could be the protective shroud he was looking for. Convincing Wendy wouldn’t be easy without being truthful but protecting them was essential.
As he walked out into the parking lot he was snatched by the shoulder and pulled around the building. Mack dragged him against his will and slammed him on the brick wall. The back of his head smacked against the wall, blurring his mind as the enforcer delivered his message.
“Henry’s not happy. He expects his money returned to him, in person, you have until nine a.m. if you expect any forgiveness.”
“I-I-I can’t just come up with fifteen grand in one night. I need some more time.”
“You’ve done it before haven’t you.”
“No, I’ve never made that kind of money, not with cards or bets or anything.”
“What about when you swiped the bag from the tournament?” Mack added pressure with the forearm he was using to hold Scott against the wall by his throat.
“Well, I mean, I, Uh.”
“I, Uh, I, nothin’ fifteen stacks at the bar by nine a.m. And Scott, we’re watching from all around, don’t try anything stupid.”
Mack dropped Scott, turning and walking away in one motion. He didn’t get as far as the curb before a Lincoln pulled up and he drove away in the continental. Scott rubbed the back of his head and inspected his fingertips to see they had been stained red with blood. He didn’t know what to do and hitting his head didn’t help him complete any thoughts. The best he could come up with at the moment was to ask the bank for a personal loan. As he drove over to his bank he thought about the plan and realized there was a huge issue. He already had debt with the bank from another loan he had gotten to pay off a debt he had from the races. On top of that, his credit was crap and anything he could put down for collateral was in his wife's name. If he got her name involved in another gambling debt, let alone one for fifteen K, he would never hear the end of it. The only thing that wasn’t connected to her was the white Mercedes SUV he drove with pride.
Having won it off a bet with a local junk yard owner Scott was in love with his car. He had no bills connected to it and when he drove it around town he felt like the man. It was the nicest car on his block and had to have been one of the nicest in town. People stopped and turned their heads when he drove by and everyone wanted to know how he could afford it. Even Wendy, who was constantly nagging him about gambling, kept her mouth shut the day he brought the Mercedes home with no note. It was a cornerstone of his ego at this point and Scott realized that it might be his only way to get out of his debt to Henry. As much as he didn’t want to, he had been backed in a corner and he knew that he had to sell the SUV. A silver lining, he thought, was that he should get enough to pay off his debt and buy another car to get around.
“Seven grand?” Scott exclaimed in disbelief. “You told me when I won it that this thing was worth almost fifty!”
“Yeah, sure it was then,” Jack explained, “but that was two years ago Scott. You know these things depreciate in value as soon as they drive off.”
“Not by ninety percent! I’m starting to think that you played me in that game, putting this up for collateral when you knew it wasn’t worth what you said it was.”
Jack, the junkyard owner leaned back in his seat knowing that he had the upper hand in these negotiations. He could tell by Scotts demeanor and sudden need to sell the SUV that he was in trouble. Up to his neck in hot water giving the scuzzy junkyard owner the opportunity to get his Mercedes back at a tremendous discount.
“Now those are some unnecessary accusations. You’ve driven that car for two years, you know it's worth what I put it up for.”
“I do, that's why I need twenty for it.”
Jack let out a scoff of a laugh from sudden disbelief. “Twenty? Maybe I’d give you ten.”
“Ten, honestly Jack you are such a greaseball. I need at least fifteen.”
A smirk rose in the corner of Jack's mouth as he watched desperation grow in Scotts demeanor. “I can’t give you more than seven.”
“You just said ten a second ago.”
“That was before your needless insults.”
“Look Jack, I’m sorry that was unnecessary of me to say. I’ve been under a lot of stress and just really need to get fifteen for the car.”
“It’s fine, I’ve been called worse in my day. I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you seventy five and you can take a Neon with you when you leave.”
“I can’t go less than ten.”
“That’s my final offer.”
Driving home the neon felt to Scott like he had taken a go-kart onto the freeway. The car shook with pathetic aerodynamicity, being pushed around by the wind as the engine growled like a baby cheetah. Scott could feel wind on the inside of the car as it slipped past the cheap door gaskets like a hot chick making her way up to the bar. The fabric covered seats dug into Scotts back and ass at weird points as if they were designed to do so. The plastic dash was covered in dust and sticky spots from where a soda had exploded from the difference in carbonized pressure after being shaken before opening on a hot day. A practical joke between friends or maybe just an empty headed mistake. The radio had no CD player, no tape deck and the radio speakers sounded like they were made from styrofoam cups. It goes without saying that Scott was already missing his Mercedes when he began the long drive home.
When he finally made it home the sun had long been set and the lights were off in his house indicating that his wife and daughters were asleep. He crept into the house and put the seventy five thousand down on the counter. It was only half of what he needed to pay off his debt and already he felt exhausted by the search. He looked around the room for something he could pawn or sell for extra cash but it wasn’t worth his time. If he was lucky he could get two grand for the junk Wendy bought and brought into his house. None of it had any meaning or sentimental value, just a bunch of knick knacks and vases she found at retail stores. Meaningless in nothing more than to take up the space it inhabited. Had it been worth it Scott would have sold all of it and lived in an empty house with blank white walls. But then he would still be five and half grand short plus the argument he would have to endure until they replaced all the junk he sold.
He walked up the stairs and into his eldest daughter Rachel's room just to watch her sleep for a moment. He wished he could wake her up just to explain how much he loved her and how sorry he was for mistakes he made in the past. When he stole that money from Henry he never thought or imagined that one day he would have her, Wendy and Miley to look after. Now he did and he feared that by tomorrow afternoon he would no longer be there for them. If he had a time machine, Scott considered that he might go back and kill himself before his younger self decided to steal from the mob. But if he had the ability to do that then he would just be robbing the world of these two beautiful girls he had a hand in creating.
He couldn’t help but think about things like killing his past self as he stroked the hair on his younger daughter's head. For a brief moment Miley opened her eyes, just to smile at him and grab his hand to cuddle with before turning over to sleep. Her tiny head used his palm like a hammock, her arms grabbed his fingers and pulled them over her shoulders. She drooled on his fingers, snoring into his palm making him wish that this moment would last forever. Holding her in his hands made time stop, made his problems fade and at least for a moment Scott was convinced that everything would be okay. Spending this serene moment with this girl was what Scott needed to clear the stress out of his mind.
When he finally made his way to his own room he sat on the bed next to his snoring wife and rubbed his temples to decompress. He undressed and tossed the seventy five hundred in his nightstand drawer. After a loud sigh his sleeping wife started stuttering and saying something softly into her pillow. Scott tried at first to listen but upon hearing the gibberish she spoke he realized it was nothing more than the ambien speaking for her. She often needed something to help her sleep when Scott was out late gambling their money away. The ambien worked to knock her out though she often spoke nonsense at some point in the night that she never remembered in the morning. This seemed like an ample opportunity for Scott to honestly admit to his wife what was going on.
“Why don’t you sell my ring.” Wendy suggested as she turned over in bed, confirming her ambien inebriation.
Scott laughed knowing that the ambien was responsible for this suggestion, it was nice knowing that subconsciously she cared more about him than their possessions. Also he laughed because he knew the diamond on the ring was fake and the whole thing was worthless. He laid down next to her and took a deep breath believing that this was the last night he would get with her. It was the more mundane activities such as this that he felt he would miss the most. He felt bad for having taken advantage of these moments, it was here and now where he finally regretted those long nights playing cards, choosing to party and gamble downtown instead of shopping with his wife or pushing his daughters on the swing. This was something most men would regret in a similar situation but unfortunately Scott knew that even with a second chance he would probably make those same bets again.
It was the thrill he got from the chance of winning that kept him glued to his seat at the table. Whether it was for thousands or only dozens of dollars Scott wanted a piece of the action. Regardless of his winnings or losses he just wanted to feel that rush he got when the money was on the table and chance did its work. It was that thrill of the bet that kept him working lowly jobs for a paycheck. Within moments he could double or triple his check or lose it all and have to build himself up again. It was because of that itch that he lost twelve grand and ended up robbing the poker tournament all those years ago. He pulled the money out for a downpayment on the house they were living in and seeing that much cash was too much for Scott. After losing it he knew that he had to get it back or else Wendy would never let him around their daughter who was still unborn at the time.
It was that itch that got him into this mess and it was that itch that would get him out. Is what he thought as he got out of bed and dressed to go out and double the seventy five hundred to get himself out of this mess. It was easy to do, he thought to himself, with just a few bets he could easily make more than fifteen grand. He had done it before more than a few times, of course he never let himself stop or walk away with the money until it was all spent but tonight would be different. There was his life at stake tonight so after fifteen was earned it would be put aside and he would let himself play with whatever was left. What better place to play, Scott thought, than Henry’s bar where he could earn his money and pay off his debts in one spot.
“Do you really think it's a good idea for you to play here tonight?” Mack asked when Scott approached him with the cash asking for a seat at the table.
“It's the best idea I’ve had. I need to make this money.” Scott pleaded with the goons at the bar. “It may not be a great idea but… c’mon Mack you gotta give me this chance.”
Mack crossed his arms across his chest as he thought about whether or not to let Scott play. Scott pleaded with puppy dog eyes for this opportunity. Marylin, the other bartender, felt sorry for Scott and decided to stick up for his case.
“Let him play Mack.” She argued. “The guy has already spent his whole life playing here, might as well let him spend his last night doing what he loves.”
Mack sighed and took the cash from Scotts hand. “Fine, you got seven grand credit.”
“There's seven and a half there.”
Mack peeled five bills off the stack, folded them and put them in his pocket. “Seven.” He said, “Good luck.”
Feeling slightly disgruntled, Scott grabbed his chips and took his spot at the table. He had been here plenty of times, down on his luck and in desperate need of a win. The game was hold-em, one of Scott's favorites because he typically went up early and stayed on top. Strategy depended more on those across the table than the cards he was dealt. By reading his opponents Scott was able to trick and beat these less experienced chumps. Men in monkey suits who drove out from the city for a few hands of illegal cards. They were successful and willing to put up cash just for the sake of a good time. These weekend whales had no idea they were in the presence of gambling greatness, a true natural, obsessed to the point where he was unable to find success because the game truly never ended until his chips were gone.
Within the first few rounds he had already taken close to two grand from these finance bros. Scott felt the energy immediately and knew that the galactic odds were stacked in his favor. The whales at the table with him just kept feeding him, falling for every trick he had and taking their losses personally. Before long they wanted to win just as much as Scott which caused them to make irrational impulsive decisions. Scott knew this immediately as he watched their drinking and betting increase exponentially. After riding out the next hour of play Scott had gone up another four grand. He was just under two grand shy of his fifteen thousand dollar goal and at this table he was more than confident that it would be achieved. In just two more hands he was there, staring at the last five hundred dollars in the pot that he needed to pay his debt. With two kings in his hand and another on the table there was nothing that could stop his high, not even Henry when he entered the room.
“I didn’t think our meeting was until nine.” Henry said as he took a drink from the martini in his hand.
“Well,” Scott answered confidently, “I guess I was a little excited, so I thought I’d come down to play a couple rounds beforehand.”
“A couple rounds, huh? That’s not my money that you’re playing with, is it?”
“Of course not, I would never play with money that's not mine.”
“Good, it’s good to have principals like that. I can respect that.” Henry took another sip from his glass. “Well then, it's a quarter to nine. How about you give me what's mine and we can just get this out of the way now.”
Scott's face flushed with fear when he heard that. “Of course, why don’t you wait for me in your office and I’ll be right in after this hand.” He swallowed the spit in his mouth though his throat seemed to become dryer upon doing so. Scott knew he was in trouble off of Henry's demeanor though he still bet that he was going to make it through this, the odds were in his favor after all.
“I think I’ll wait and watch. It does seem like a riveting round.” Henry was commenting on the stressed out look that the table of guys had after playing the whole night through. After saying this two of his goons appeared on either side of Henry to watch the games climax. There was a nine of clubs, a three of hearts, a king of clubs and a jack of spades. The only thing that could beat Scotts three kings was a flush and by the looks on his opponents faces he could tell that none of them were sitting on one. The last card was flipped, four of diamonds. Then one by one his opponents opened their hands to reveal nothing that came close to beating what Scott had.
“Yes!” Scott exploded, standing up and throwing his hands victoriously in the air. He clapped his hands, pumped a fist towards the middle of the table and cheered this life saving win.
“Congrats on the win.” Henry commented to put a cap on the celebration. “Now give me whats mine.”
“Seriously, you gotta know that I can’t stop now. I’m up, man, I'm winning. One more hand.”
“Thats your problem,” Henry’s goons took a step forward. “you don’t know when to stop. I know that’s my money and I know if I let you keep playing it’ll be gone in the next two hours. Now give me what's mine.”
“It’s your game, if I lose it’ll come to you anyway.” Scott said sort of shrugging the gangster off his case.
“Thats not how this works. If you lose then you won’t be returning what you stole from me.” In that moment the two goons grabbed Scott by the shoulders and forced him back to his seat. “I wanted to be kind and forgiving after your buddy Mike came clean but you clearly haven’t learned your lesson like he has. He inspired me when he came to make amends, now you’ve just reassured me of what I knew all along. That you can’t give a gambler any chances.” Henry snapped his fingers and Mack grabbed Scotts arm and extended it out on the table.
“Henry please, just take the money, you’re right I’m sorry I lost control for a second but it’s all there. Please, just take it.”
“Just take it, and let you go?”
“You can take the money, I'll give up the gambling and drinking. I promise the only time you’ll see me on the weekends is when I’m on my way to mass.”
“Well doesn’t that sound nice. Still I want some assurance that you wont be playing anymore, that your sticky fingers won't be an issue with us again.”
“It won’t be, I promise. Henry please, have mercy, please.”
The finance bros were slowly starting to stand up to try and slip out before they became witnesses to anything. These out of towners had gotten more than they bargained for after an all night game of cards. Clearly there was some history between the man who just beat them and this gangster. They wanted to get out of there and find a hotel room to sleep off their losses but Henry stopped them.
“It’s always good to teach a new face a good lesson.” He said as he held his hand out for his goon to hand him a large cleaver. “Tell me Scott, what do you know about the games in Japan?”
“I don’t, I don’t know nothing about Japan. Please, Henry, I got you the money. You don’t have to do this.”
“Obviously I do because I don’t believe you’ll learn your lesson if I don’t. Now, I am a man of my word and you've got me my fifteen grand so I won’t kill you.” Scott tried to let out a breath but he was far too nervous to exhale. “In Japan when they have to teach a gambler a lesson they’ll take three of his fingers, marking him and banning him from any future gaming. As you are not only a degenerate gambler but also a liar and a thief, this seems like an appropriate punishment.”
“You can’t do this Henry, pleeeaarghhh!”
Henry didn’t hesitate or let Scott finish his pleading before he dropped the cleaver down across his knuckles, severing his four fingers from his right hand. The whales screamed at this horrible sight having had no idea that this might happen. Mack released his grip allowing Scott to raise his hand and scream at his wound. Henry reached forward and grabbed the fingers off the table, tossing them carelessly at the wastebin by the door, grinning at the sight of Scotts screaming. He would never have the opportunity to steal anything with that hand again. He also would never again write or throw a ball with his dominant hand again. He would never get to hold his daughter and let her play with his fingers but worst of all for Scott was that he would never get to play cards again. His days of staying up all night at the table playing blackjack or hold-em were over, but at least he would still have the sports book.
The End