My so-called brothers invited me over for poker, and all night long I couldn't stop winning.
I was riding so high I'd practically forgotten my own name when a weathered old voice cut through the haze beside my ear.
"Foolish boy. Sitting there grinning like an idiot."
"Your wife's been sneaking around behind your back every time you work late. Tonight she's got a man in your house right now. She sent these three to keep you busy so she could have her little rendezvous in peace!"
The voice was coming from my family heirloom ring. Blood rushed to my head and I nearly flipped the table, but the voice spoke again.
"Hold on! I can see the fortune clouds above their heads. Every one of them has a massive windfall coming."
"Let me guide your hand through the rest of this game. Not only will you win back every cent they've skimmed off you over the years, you'll steal their luck right out from under them. After tonight, you could walk downstairs to buy a pack of smokes and find cash on the ground. Buy a lottery ticket and hit the jackpot every single time!"
The rage drained out of me. I sat back down.
"Come on, boys. We're playing till we drop tonight. Nobody leaves!"
……
Across the table, Caspar Lambert had a cigarette dangling from his lips, lazily sorting his tiles.
"Thaddeus Dickerson, what's gotten into you tonight? Normally you're home by eleven sharp, rubbing your wife's feet. It's past one in the morning. Aren't you afraid Beverly Fox's gonna make you kneel on bottle caps?"
Humphrey Finch chimed in from beside him. "Seriously, man. Your wife's gorgeous. All alone in that big empty bed, so lonely. Maybe we should call it a night so you can go home and take care of business?"
The moment those words left his mouth, every man at the table exchanged a knowing, filthy grin.
Ten minutes ago, I would've laughed it off as the usual dirty jokes between brothers. But now, Great-Grandfather Abbott's voice echoed through my mind, dripping with cold contempt.
"Boy, you see that red mark on Caspar's neck?"
"Your wife meets up with him all the time, using 'project meetings' as her cover. He's been making a fool of you for years!"
"And Humphrey. Look at the lighter in his hand. Isn't that the limited-edition one your wife claimed she lost last week?"
My eyes locked onto the Zippo Humphrey was fidgeting with, and my vision went red.
That lighter was a gift Beverly had hunted down across every corner of the internet for our fifth anniversary.
"What's the matter, Thaddeus? Eyes all bloodshot. Can't handle losing?" Joe Whitney, sitting to my left, tossed out a tile with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.
I drew a long breath and forced the murderous rage back down into my gut.
You bastards. You eat my food, drink my liquor, and I treated you like real brothers. And this whole time you've been laughing behind my back?
And Beverly. I handed over every paycheck, every single month. Had to beg for permission just to buy a pack of cigarettes. She claimed she was a germaphobe, barely let me touch her. Meanwhile she'd been sleeping around with God knows how many men?
"Steady, boy!" Great-Grandfather's voice cut through. "Two of these lowlifes just landed major construction contracts, and the third hit a lottery jackpot. Their luck is at its absolute peak right now."
"You can always find another wife. But fortune like this? If you don't siphon it off tonight, the chance is gone forever!"
"Play all eighteen rounds. By the time I'm done with them, they won't be able to scrounge a warm meal for the rest of their miserable lives!"
Great-Grandfather Abbott was nothing if not ruthless.
I rubbed my thumb across the jade ring, and my heartbeat steadied.
What was done was done. But the future? The future was going to go my way.
"You think I can't handle losing?"
"Whoever walks out that door first tonight is a goddamn coward!"
I slammed my wallet on the table. "My contract payment just cleared. A hundred grand, sitting right here. You've got the guts? Let's raise the stakes. Ten thousand a hand!"
The second those words left my mouth, all three pairs of eyes lit up like slot machines.
They'd always been itching to get their hands on my money. The only thing that ever stopped them was that I'd been too tight-fisted to give them the opening.
