“It’s been a tough few months,” he said. “More than a tough few months, I guess.”
“You walked away with a couple grand on that last game.”
He said, “Yeah, but I had bills to pay. So not a whole lot of that left.”
Not knowing why he was even doing it, except they’d been friends for so long,… Simon said, “Fine. I can spot you a grand, but that’s it.”
“I’ll take it,” Yale said immediately.
“What the hell happened to your trust fund?”
“It dried up,” Yale said in a dry tone. “I haven’t managed to find another way to replenish it, besides games.”
“Games are dangerous,” Simon said. “And, when you cheat, you get noticed.”
“So I don’t understand how the hell you get off scot-free.”
“Because I’m not cheating when I gamble,” he said. “Again, I did cheat that one asshole, but that’s because of what he did to the other guy, Baine.”
“He really lost his wife, didn’t he?”
“Lost his wife and his home and everything important to him. Hopefully he’ll wake up and find something else to do with his life.”
“I don’t know,” Yale said. “We get stuck on a pathway, and it’s hard to deviate.”
“It’s not that hard to deviate,” Simon said. “The trouble is, nobody wants to. You’re on that pathway yourself because it gives you something,” he said. “So stop fooling anybody else and make the hard choices.” And, with that, he hung up. Just as he put down his phone, he realized he hadn’t told Yale where to meet up for the money. He thought about it and texted him to meet at a coffee shop downtown in twenty minutes.
He got a thumbs-up in return.
Simon hoped he could make it in twenty minutes. He checked his wallet and, of course, he didn’t have that kind of cash. Going to his safe, he opened it and pulled out $1,000. One of the few things he did keep at home was cash. If anybody ever got into his safe, he’d also know about it. He’d spent a lifetime building up what he had, so no way in hell he would let anybody take it without a fight.
He had a lot of security, and most of it he’d designed himself. He picked up the rest of his fish and chips, tossed it in the garbage, and figured he’d grab a coffee at the shop. Then he headed out. As he exited the front door, he stopped, noting the rain had started again. But still, the coffee shop was only about five blocks away. He took a shortcut through the alleyways and arrived within a short time. He ordered a coffee and sat down outside at one of the little patio tables under the awning. Yale should be here soon. Sure enough, Simon turned around, and there he was, walking toward him, a grim look on his face. His truck was parked around the corner.
Simon looked at the blue truck and frowned. “Is that your truck?”
Yale looked back at it, shrugged, and said, “Belongs to a friend of mine. We exchanged wheels for me to leave.”
“Interesting,” Simon said, studying Yale’s features, wondering what the hell was going on. “A good friend?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Why?”
“Because that truck has been in some trouble.”
“He said it was stolen a little bit ago, but he got it back.”
“Right.” Simon didn’t say anything more, but his friend went inside, grabbed himself a coffee, came back, sat down, and he asked Yale, “You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
Simon handed him the envelope and said, “Good luck with that, but seriously you may want to ditch that vehicle.”
He looked at the truck and said, “I need it.”
“Not that bad. How good of a friend?”
“Really good,” he said. “Why?”
Simon shrugged and didn’t say anything.