Savage House

I punched him across the face. “I’m not particularly happy you managed to swindle Miss Agnes out of her retirement funds. I know a good bit about it. You will tell me everything, or I’ll kill you, here and now.” Jeffrey Sinclair made a muffled sound. I looked at him. His eyes had filled, and suddenly, one tear broke and ran down his cheek. The realization must have sunk in because he started talking. He was a real jabber box. Sadly, he didn’t know much. The first few bits were what I had already assumed. The only option available for him was to deliver. The rest was handled by unknown persons. He was simply in debt with the local mafia and had to pay up or lose his life. No way out but to pay. Men in starched black suits were coming for him, and they were not the dreaded Internal Revenue Service. It all started when he was a kid. He stole prescription drugs from his parents. Naturally, a habit ensued. He was in and out of juvenile detention until he finally wound up in the local county jail at the tender age of eighteen. He was sentenced as an adult for grand theft and possession. It was the one that broke the camel’s back, forcing his parents to cut him off. It was in prison he met an old-timer who introduced him to poker and the ways of winning, the trade secrets. Jeffrey had finally discovered something he was actually good at. The time he spent there, he learned to master the game to the point of being unbeatable. No one wanted to play against him, and if they did, they were usually sore or a newbie in the cell block. He cleaned up his act, got disciplined, worked out every day, ate his three squares, and behaved. All the while, he mastered the art of poker. He did not find Jesus in jail; he found the joker. Upon leaving, he swore he was a changed man. He did well in the beginning. His jailhouse friend made some discreet calls and set him up. At first, it was few underground poker games. He won and won big and supplied his friend in jail with spending money for snacks and underwear. Word got out, and eventually, he was playing high stakes poker with very discreet and careful individuals in long black limos. There was a time he was actually doing very well. He convinced his parents he had made a turn for the better and even managed to leave them a handsome deposit for all the trouble he had caused them. It was all on the up and up. Until one fateful day when he met a girl at a poker game who got him hooked again. It’s always a female. First, it was just liquor. That was harmless really. He just got stone drunk and spent a few days recovering, but not to worry, he could still get up and make a killing playing poker. But his addictive personality won, and soon they were doing cocaine. It was a downhill tumble after that.