Chapter 3
A normal Saturday morning for me consisted of a run down in the state-of-the-art gym, weightlifting on the days I really needed to get out my aggression, black coffee on my high-rise patio that looked onto the Strip, and catching up on any work that I didn’t get finished from the week prior—all before seven a.m.
Rolling out of bed this morning after receiving a text from my son, I realized it wouldn’t be a normal Saturday. After letting his text go unanswered last night, he wanted to know if we could meet for breakfast this morning. The least I could do was meet him and see what he wanted.
It was always something with him.
It paid off to live at the Waldorf, smack dab in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip. I could roll out of bed, throw some clothes on, and head down to one of the restaurants in my building.
When I told Jackson to meet me at Zen by seven, I should have known seven would turn closer to eight. This was typical behavior for him.
I was on my second cup of coffee when he finally came strolling into the quaint space looking like he’d been up all night.
“Nice of you to join me.” I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair.
“Sorry. I was just finishing up something and time got away from me.” As he got closer, his breath reeked of alcohol.
When Jackson reached out to me years ago, I didn’t think the extent of our relationship would be as distant as it had been while living in the same city.
“Time got away from you, huh? Meaning you were at the blackjack table again? Partying out on the Strip?” I gave him a look that told him I knew everything.
It was obvious he didn’t go to bed last night and he was waltzing in after hours of playing cards or fucking off in the same wrinkled outfit he’d been in when he started his Friday night. Most likely, losing every dollar to his name.
Call it a hunch, but it didn’t take much to figure out he was desperate for help, crawling out of whatever hole he’d gotten himself in. That’s why he asked to meet up this morning.
“I was with the guys last night. Time got away from us. We were just having a good time.” He huffed, running his fingers through his hair.
“Let’s get some food before we dive into whatever you need from me this time.”
We both looked down at our menus, the silence deafening between us. Me, wondering how much money he’d beg me for and what his excuse would be. Him, most likely thinking about how he could possibly ask me the same thing he always asked me—but make it sound different.
The waiter came and went, both of us ordering the eggs benedict. If I had to guess, probably the only thing we had in common.
“What is it this time?” My words were cold. Tired. Over being used by my son.
He reached out for his water with shaky hands. “I’m in trouble,” he mumbled.
He was always in trouble. He always needed a few hundred bucks.
I was his own personal ATM at this point.
But every time he told me about his troubles, I was torn between giving him tough love and feeling the guilt that had eaten me up over the years that I hadn’t been in his life.
Usually, I ended up handing over the money.
I had fucking loads of it, so, why not? But the businessman in me, the grown and mature man, wanted to say, ‘fuck no, learn your lesson.’
When he first moved out here, we were on a path of getting to know each other and adjusting to being father and son. The longer he lived in Vegas, though, he became a different person. Not the kid I first met, fresh out of college and eager to hit the city.
“What kind of trouble are you in, Jackson?”
His dark eyes that matched mine wandered around the restaurant, skittish and concerned.
“I owe some guys a little bit of money,” he whispered, the worry evident in his voice.
His trouble usually consisted of blowing his money so he couldn’t pay his bills. But as time had gone on, it seemed his problems were only getting worse. This being the most worrisome of trouble I’ve heard from him as of lately.
Owing money to anyone in Vegas was never a good sign.
“How much money?” I needed to know the amount to decipher just how bad this really was.
“Five hundred.” Shaking my head, feeling like a fucking fool for leading my mind down the worst possible direction, I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and fished out five one-hundred-dollar bills, placing them in front of him.
“Thousand,” he finished; his gaze dipped directly at the cash and refused to make eye contact with mine.
“Come again?” I spat, my jaw hardening.
“Dad, I … I owe five hundred thousand dollars.”
When he called me Dad, it still shook me. It was new. Different. Even though we’d known each other for a few years now, it still didn’t sound normal coming from him. It sounded like a cry for help.
“Mind telling me how in the fuck you got into that kind of debt?”
He remained silent, his head down, lips tight.
“If you want any kind of help, any way out of this mess you’re in, I’m going to need every fucking detail.” I waited for him to gain the courage to speak, his brown eyes that looked so much like my own finally looking back at me.
“I met a guy a while back during a night out. We were playing cards together. It was a rare night that I was hitting every hand, finally stacking my chips. I was on a fucking roll. One minute, I had red chips turning into green, and before I knew it, I was playing hands with purple chips. The guy started to notice. He looked at me like I knew what the fuck I was doing, and we got to talking…” He paused when our waiter stopped by to drop off our food.
“Anything else I can get for you?”
“All good. Thank you.” I waved the waitstaff off, probably coming off like an asshole in the process because my son’s mistake had a way of creeping into my bloodstream in a matter of seconds.
I turned back to Jackson, nodding my head for him to continue.
“Clearly, he had money. When I sat down at that table, I started by betting the minimum. When he sat down, he bet the max every single hand. Unfortunately, for him, luck was on my side and not his. We had a few drinks together after we played, and he offered to give me a huge pay day I couldn’t refuse.
All I had to do was turn his fucking water into wine.
” He took a breath and rolled his hands through his hair.
“I was on a roll, Dad; I didn’t think it could go that bad. I never thought it would take that far of a turn when he gave me so much money to work with. Luck had to have been on my side,” he tried convincing himself.
Neither of us had touched our food. Instead, silence surrounded us, and the clicking of silverware scraping against plates and light conversation around the restaurant was the only thing to be heard.
I wish I could say what he just told me was no big deal, but the dollar amount, and the situation was nothing short of dangerous. People in Las Vegas were not ones to fuck with, especially when it came to their money.
“How long do you have to pay him back?” I didn’t need time on my side for the money. The money wasn’t the issue at all. Of course, I would help my own flesh and blood get out of this mess, but he needed to learn. He needed to prove to me that something like this wouldn’t happen again.
“One month.”
To be honest, one month was a considerable amount of time. Men like the ones he was dealing with, they usually didn’t give a shit. They were ruthless and wanted their money back in a snap. I could work with one month, but I wasn’t going to be happy about it.
“Get me the info to wire the funds and we’ll be in contact.” At this point, it felt less like a familial bond and more like a business transaction.
Without touching my breakfast, I grabbed four of the bills I’d thrown on the table earlier, leaving one behind to cover the tab, and headed for the elevator.
I’d make the calls necessary to move my money around, but more importantly, I needed to hash out a plan for Jackson to learn his lesson.