Page 10 of IOU

“I don’t know.” He sighs into the phone, answering my earlier question about his status with Melissa. “She’s moving to Boston when she graduates. There’s no need to get involved. As soon as we graduate, we’ll be over.”

That means he likes her, right?

“It won’t matter when you can afford a flight every weekend. Or get drafted to Boston. They have an outstanding team, you know.”

I’m not usually such an optimist, but I don’t want Cooper to give up his dream of playing professional baseball. It was something he and my mother always bonded over. It wasn’t my father who taught him how to throw a ball. It was my crazy supportive mom whom I caught awake late one night watching how-to videos. She was the one who, when he was four, signed him up for tee-ball and ran the bases with him when he wanted to run from first base to home and bypass the remaining plates. She was his biggest fan, and I know that deep down, making it to the Major Leagues is not only for him but for her too.

She would be proud of him either way, but ever since she died, he’s thrown himself into the sport. It went from a backyard hobby to total obsession. Cooper let baseball consume him, and I think, in some way, heal him. He’s not giving up now. Not if I can help it. I don’t care how many poker games I need to win. Cooper is going to get his shot at the major leagues. The boy deserves a chance to see if he has what it takes.

“We’ll see,” he tells me somberly.

Yeah, we’ll see.

I need the pieces to align soon.

“Don’t worry about it yet. You have time. Do you and Pops need anything? I looked at the accounts last night, and they looked good.” Enough. They looked good enough. Income hasn’t been steady for Pops since he isn’t able to manage the company on his own. I’ve been sending him and Coop money when I can, hoping to lessen the strain of the company finances since Laurant—his VP—quit last year and the market took a complete shit.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re fine. What about you? You doing okay?”

I nod, fighting the fatigue. “Yeah. I’m good. I’ve been winning.”

He pauses. I know that pause. It’s the same conversation we have whenever he thinks I’m getting in too deep. “Be careful, Mav. Gambling is addictive. You could lose it all.”

Poker is a necessity—a job. The only way I can help the man who gave up his whole life for Cooper and me. It’s the least I can do to keep what little family I have left, safe.

“I got it handled, Coop. Don’t worry about me.” And it’s the truth. I do have it handled. Maybe not well but handled nevertheless.

“All right, dude. Whatever you say. Just know Pops will kill you if you get caught up in owing some bookie hundreds of thousands.”

I grin. “You’ve been watching too much TV, little brother.”

“Maybe so, but take care of yourself, Mav. You’re only one person.”

Don’t I feel that every single day.

“I know. Take care of Pops. I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Later, bro.”

“Later.”

I end the call and blow out a big breath of anxiety. My legs are heavy as I stand and shut the sliding door. I’m exhausted as I bypass the pile of cash on the table, leaving the lights on and heading to the bedroom where I drop to the mattress in one exaggerated move.

My eyes close.

I just need sleep and a way out.

Rumor has it she was arrested.

The sun rises, and I’m wide awake. Not from the most refreshing sleep ever but from being up two-thirds of the night praying every noise wasn’t the next Ted Bundy coming to offer me his back seat. Or truck. Wait. He was the one who took them on dates first, right? That might not have been too bad. At least then I could have squeezed a shower and food out of him before he killed me.

A night in the back seat of a car is no freaking joke, let me tell you. Who knew the middle seat that everyone’s ass cheeks hang off of could be the devil incarnate? I mean, really. Why can’t the entire back seat be one level? Did carmakers think, “Hey! Let’s be sure to make this back seat unsleepable just in case the owner gets desperate?” I think they did. My ribs will show you the beating they took from the hump and seat belt buckle—let’s not forget those lifesavers.

Needless to say, although today is a new beginning, it is not a pleasant one. I stink, I’m exhausted, and I’m alone. And ... I might have been a little scared. Okay, I was a lot scared, but what drove my fright to nuclear levels was the brutal banging on my window that sent me shooting upright and knocking my head on the ceiling about five seconds ago.

“I thought you had a friend you could call!” An angry man growls through the closed window.

Bostic.

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