Page 39 of For the Boys
“I forgot how many fucking rules this game has,” Mitch said, sighing.
“Okay, how about this,” Brent said, his mind quickly sorting out his idea before he voiced it. “In normal Monopoly rules, we’d play until there’s only one team that hasn’t gone bankrupt. But let’s make things interesting.”
“How interesting?” Parker asked.
“Real money on the line. Instead of paying the bank, all money from here on out goes into the pot. The first two teams that go bankrupt are out. The final two teams get one chance, one roll each to land on the most expensive property they can. Whichever team has the more expensive one wins, but we convert all the money left from the middle into real money, and the losers pay the winners that amount. Each.”
“So let’s say when all is said and done, and Chase and I win,” Jordan said, “and there’s $5,492 left between the three of your teams, y’all are each going to give us that amount?”
“Yep.”
“I’m in,” Mitch said.
The rest of his teammates quickly agreed, and so they played, round and round and round and round for what felt like hours. Rents were paid, players went to jail, properties were purchased, and houses and hotels were built, until finally Rat and Grey, who had apparently been mismanaging their money, went bankrupt after landing on the luxury tax square. Their properties were reverted back to the bank, and the three remaining teams played on.
Brent felt completely in his element, directing the game, strategizing with Cole, and enjoying some pressure-free time with his teammates. He felt carefree, but he couldn’t help thinking about Berkley.
He wondered if she would enjoy this as much as he did. She was studying to become a lawyer, which was a pretty cutthroat profession depending on the type of law, so she had to have some sort of competitive side. Did she like trying new things? Did she want to travel when she finished school, or was she more of a homebody? He could imagine doing the things he loved with her, taking time in the off-season to backpack through Europe or explore the Alaskan frontier.
One thing at a time, Jean.
Even though the party had been three weeks ago, Berkley still had not reached out, and Brent was growing restless. But being on the road was proving to be the perfect distraction. Constantly surrounded by his teammates, Brent couldn’t spare the brainwaves necessary to spiral into endless thoughts of Berkley.
The next team to go bankrupt was Mitch and Parker, which made Brent feel infinitely better. Even if he lost, he wouldn’t be paying a dime to Parker Graff. That right there was reason enough to celebrate.
“One final roll, Cap,” Brent said, nodding to Jordan. “You ready?”
“We were born ready, Jean,” Jordan replied.
As it stood, Brent and Cole were standing on Pennsylvania Railroad. Rolling a twelve would land them on Ventnor Avenue, which would yield $22 in rent.
Jordan and Chase were standing a few spaces behind them, on States Avenue. The highest possible roll would land them on B. & O. Railroad, which was a $25 rent.
Cole looked at Brent and held out his fist, which Brent bumped with his own. “Let’s win this.”
Brent and Cole rolled, watching their dice bounce around the board a few times before landing. The dice showed a five and a three, earning them eight spaces. They walked forward and around the corner, passing Free Parking to rest on Indiana Avenue.
Brent chewed on the inside of his cheek. If Jordan and Chase rolled an eleven or twelve, Brent and Cole would lose. If they rolled anything lower, Brent and Cole would win.
Brent held his breath as Jordan and Chase rolled. Jordan’s die landed first, showing a six. Chase’s bounced around a bit before landing. Brent squeezed his eyes shut. Everyone was silent for a moment until…
“FUCK!” That was Cole.
Brent opened his eyes. Chase’s die had landed on a five. He and Cole had lost.
“Shit,” Brent said. “That sucks.”
Jordan smirked. “This was fun, Jean!” He turned and high-fived Chase.
“So let’s count this money,” Chase said.
The group walked to the center of the board, staring down at the pile waiting for them under the rock.
Brent leaned down and picked it up, turning away from his teammates to count what was left. When he finished counting, he counted again to be sure. He sighed, turning back to face everyone.
“So? How much do we owe?” Rat asked.
“$4,530.”
