The Gamble

“Here’s 100,000 dollars for Jacksonville to beat Kansas City outright tonight,” Mark stated in a tone of self-satisfaction, his voice barely concealing his internal monologue. “I am a prophet. I can beat the system. Here in Vegas, the gambling Mecca of America, the odds were in my favor, not the casino’s,” he thought to himself.

“Where the hell did you get 100G’s?” Samuel, Mark’s childhood friend, asked. He was almost yelling in shock, yet his voice was still drowned out by the sounds of electronic beeping and change dispensing at the nearby slot machines.  “Are we celebrating a surprise promotion? I don’t recall a retail district manager making that amount.”

Mark handed a debit card over to the casino cashier. The casino cashier exchanged the money, the only movement he made was extending his hand to take Mark’s card. If “Joshua”-as his silvery name tag pinned on his dark suit indicated is his name- had any reaction to Mark’s excitement, Joshua sure didn’t show it. Even the cashiers here kept a steady poker face.

“Daughter’s college savings,” Mark stated flatly to Samuel, yet loud enough for Joshua to hear. Mark spoke seemingly unaware of the gravity of his words.

“Here is your receipt,” Joshua stated in a flat, bored voice. This was clearly not the first time he had seen a guy dip into his daughter’s college savings.

Samuel was less blasé about the situation. “You mean to tell me you are gambling your daughter’s college fund, your daughter who is a junior in high school looking to go to USC of all places, a place where it costs, what, $40,000 a year? And you placed that money on a team that’s a 14 point underdog, that hasn’t won a game all year, against a team that is currently undefeated? Am I hearing that right?” His voice getting louder, angrier, and his pace slowing for emphasis on each passing word.

              Mark and Samuel began walking away from the cashier towards the sports bar on the other side of the casino floor.  

“Sam, I know what you’re thinking. But I got a secret advantage.” Mark’s voice spoke in a hushed tone, as if he were afraid security would be recording his every word and arrest him before he could collect his winnings.

“A business card for a good divorce attorney?” Samuel responded, almost chuckling at both his wit and his friend’s fiscal irresponsibility.

“I am really not appreciating your negativity.” Mark stated in a flat tone.

Samuel stopped on the floor, his eyes opened wide, aghast at what he just heard. “Negativity?! You are impulsively putting down two years salary and you are afraid of my aura or some shit like that?” The elderly woman at the slot machine besides managed to turn her head away from the machine, distracted by Samuel’s vocal volume.

“Relax,” Mark’s voice maintained a flat tone. “I know what’s going to happen and trust me $400,000 makes college a lot easier to pay for. Also, the ol’ ball and chain is not going to divorce me once I can afford a diamond necklace for her birthday this year. I told you, I got a secret advantage.”

“Okay Nostradumbass, what is this secret?”

Mark began walking back towards the sports bar with Samuel in tow. Mark looked around to ensure no one can overhear. He put his arm around Samuel. He leaned in close to Samuel, to the point where Samuel could smell the garlic bread Mark had for lunch. Mark stated in a tone just barely above a whisper “I saw this game in a dream.”

Samuel revolted back, breaking Mark’s grasp on him. He stood still in bewilderment, unable to walk forward. “Excuse me?”

“I saw the result of this game in a dream. Jacksonville over Kansas City 31-14.”

“I must need to take a hearing test or a sanity test because I just heard what might be the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. I heard you say that you saw the result of the game in a dream. But there is no way I heard that correct. So what did you really say?”

“You heard correctly,” Mark responded, unphased by Samuel’s emotional reaction, confident in his decision. “Let’s go so we don’t miss kickoff. You want to keep our buddies waiting?” He began walking towards the sports bar again.

“And why, pray tell, do you think you seeing this game in a dream means that it will come true?!”

“I never told you this because you would just laugh. But I have a gift. I can see the future in my dreams.”

Samuel heard these words and wondered if Mark had somehow been partying before arriving at Vegas. Did he relapse after all this time? Twenty years clean down the drain. His blood alcohol level had to be around 1.00 to believe what was coming out of his mouth. Or he had to have inhaled a severe amount of marijuana or worse. Would Mark really risk losing his wife after she nearly left him due to alcohol abuse in those dark days two decades ago? Samuel couldn’t believe Mark would risk his family being torn apart in such a way. But, here he is, putting his daughter’s college savings on the line on a foolish bet.  

Samuel’s police instincts drawn from almost 30 years on the force kicked in. He analyzed Mark’s behavior. Mark’s gait and speech certainly didn’t seem like someone who was impaired. His behavior was the same as if he was sober. The only inkling that something was off was what Mark was saying.

“Is everything alright at home?” Samuel asked softly, with concern in his voice. “Marital or family problems could have caused a relapse,” Samuel thought. They were almost arriving at the sports bar and ready to be seated. Samuel hoped that Mark wouldn’t order alcoholic drinks. But he couldn’t ask Mark outright if he was drinking. It’s still an emotional sore spot for Mark. It would just end in a yelling match that was not needed for the start of this weeklong getaway between four friends, friends who had known each other for decades.

“Uh…yea?” Mark replied, intonating his confusion at the question. He pointed to where their friends were. “There they are!” They walked over to the table their friends, Frankie and Jeff had saved for them. If it wasn’t for Mark’s tone of confusion, Samuel was sure that Mark was trying to avoid the question.

“I’m worried because you are saying some worrying things.” Samuel replied, looking at Mark as Samuel sat down at the seat directly across from Frankie.

“What’s going on now?” Frankie inquired while focusing on his hot wings. His white shirt already splattered with buffalo sauce from the wings.

“This guy,” Samuel pointed at Mark, “believes he could tell the future in dreams.”

“Can you?” Jeff chimed in, his eyes not looking away from the Green Bay game on the large television. His Green Bay cap and jersey belied the fact that he was born in Los Angeles suburbs.

“That was supposed to be between you and me, blabbermouth.” Mark looked at Samuel, then looked at Jeff. “But yes I can.”

“I don’t believe you are even giving air time to this!” Samuel asserted.

The waitress came by. She was wearing a short plaid skirt and a black top that only barely covered her bosoms and exposed her midriff. It was certainly the type of uniform designed to ensure that drunk, horny men maximized their tips. The type of uniform Samuel hoped his niece would never need to wear for work.

“What can I get you to drink, honey?” The waitress asked, her Texan drawl coming off as almost flirtatious. Her face looked at Mark. Samuel stared expectantly. This was the moment of truth for the relapse theory.

“Diet Coke please.” Mark replied. Her face turned to Samuel. “Coors Light please,” Samuel replied.

Well Mark hadn’t relapsed. Either that or he was doing a much better job of hiding it than he would have in the past. Samuel hoped that Mark was just using his poker face at the tables, not with this group.

“So what makes you think you can do that?” The words barely leaving Frankie’s mouth as he spoke simultaneously with putting a buffalo wing in his mouth. More sauce dribbled down his shirt.

“Fuck that bullshit!” Jeff yelled. Samuel hoped that someone else at the table had a shed of cynicism. “How the fuck do you fumble away the ball late in the 4^th quarter like that?! To fucking Chicago?!” Jeff wasn’t even close to paying attention to Samuel’s dismay.

After the interruption, Mark continued “Well one time a few years ago, I had a dream about someone getting shot to death. The next day, I turn on the news and the top story was about a triple homicide.” Mark spoke as if he was feeling the creepiness of a bizarre coincidence tingling up his spine and along his skin.

“You do realize there are gun homicides almost every day in Los Angeles, right?” Samuel sneered.

“Well how about the time I told you about where I had a dream to buy stock in Google because they were going to be the dominant search engine?” Mark defiantly asked, as if he had just called a checkmate on the argument.

“You had that dream and bought that stock in 2017, well after Google’s rise.” Samuel demurred.

“What about the time I had a dream I had a daughter? This was before Maggie was born.” Mark argued, his voice getting faster in frustration.

“50/50 shot.” Samuel quickly shot down Mark’s response.

“What about my dream where I saw Apple being a hugely successful company? This was back before iPod.” Mark spoke in a petulant voice, clearly aggravated that someone would dare challenge his prophetic powers.

“Just plain luck I guess. Besides, I remember you telling me to buy stock in Enron in 2000. I guess your stockbroker dreams were right on that one too.” Samuel spoke, barely holding back a chuckle.

Mark ignored Samuel and asked “Or the time I had that dream about OJ Simpson’s acquittal?”

Samuel impulsively got angry at the mention of this dream. “Don’t even get me started on that shit. You know how I feel about that.” That trial was the cause of many an altercation between Mark and Samuel.

“Hey guys! Game’s about to start!” Frankie chimed in, pointing at one of the bar’s many giant TVs. He also knew this was good timing to diffuse the rant Samuel was ready to go on regarding that OJ case. He has spent nearly 30 years hearing about it.

Mark was in silence staring at one of the 60-inch televisions as the Jacksonville/Kansas City game started. Mark’s focus was solely on the game. He could see his friends’ mouths moving but did not process any of the conversations. They were probably talking about work drama or Frankie’s complaining about his ex-wife or how Jeff’s twin toddlers were going to grow up to play for the Yankees. The only movement Mark would make is to lift the food and drink to his mouth. Every action in the game would cause an almost uncontrollable rise of elation in Mark coupled with an equal and opposite reaction of depression.

He knew he would be right, but can he really be sure? Maybe Samuel was right and all of his dreams were a combination of coincidence and luck. Maybe Samuel’s cynicism would interfere with the prediction coming true.  

At the halftime break, the score showed Kansas City leading Jacksonville 14-3. If there was no change, what would he tell his wife? What could he tell his wife? That Budweiser sign was looking mighty tempting right now. Wait! Why give up now? There are still 30 minutes left in the game. He shouldn’t be mentally figuring out how to fake his death just yet.

Samuel tried offering preemptive condolences with a plan that sounded an awful lot like insurance fraud, but Mark didn’t respond. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts of what he would do. Anxiety coursed through his veins, Mark’s blood pressure skyrocketed. It was a wonder that Mark didn’t have a heart attack right then and there.

Then the second half started. Jacksonville was scoring every time they had the ball in their hands. Kansas City’s normally potent scoring machine was being stopped. Just like Mark saw in his dream. The game ended. Mark breathed a sigh of relief. He would not have to fake his death or hire a divorce attorney. Jacksonville won. 31-17. Just as he had dreamt.