Story of a Gambling Addict
His name was Jack. Just Jack. Every morning he got up with a desire to win. Every day was a new opportunity to make it big; an opportunity to finally realize his dreams. But every night, as he laid his body on the small single bed at the nearby Motel 6, he felt defeated.
Another grand down the drain, if he was lucky only a couple hundred. And as he closed his weary eyes he thought, tomorrows another day… Jack got up from his bed and looked over at the red digital display. As always it blinked 12:00; it had never been set, why bother?
Jack slowly dressed into his usual attire; a white Ralph Lauren collared shirt under a Giorgio Armani tux and matching pants; one of his last costly possessions. It was a Thursday but the hell that Jack knew. All he knew was that a pocket Kings would be a damn good start to his day. Jack lived in Vegas. To tell you the truth Vegas to Jack felt like home, it was where he wanted to be.
The bright lights, the rumbling of cars and people, and, of course, the strip joint at every corner. Vegas made you feel like a man. Jack, having dressed himself, fitted his black inconspicuous bowtie and set off into the night. It was already 7:30 yet to Jack it felt like noon.
Jack liked roaming around in the wee hours of the morn, he felt like a predator waiting for his next catch, his next oblivious victim. Jack strolled into the Taj Mahal, he had never been here yet he felt like he knew the place. The smell of money, sweat and tears; the sight of laughter and rage; the sounds of coins clinking and dies rolling, it was not new to him.
Sitting down at the bar a new sensation came over Jack. Actually it wasnt new; as a matter of fact he had felt it all too much. This feeling of opportunity, of chance washed over him every time. Jack opened his faded leather wallet, a memory of a past life, and took out his last seven crisp thousand dollar bills. He had come here months ago with twenty-fold that amount, yet seven were all that still befriended him.
How he came about a hundred-twenty thousand dollars was not something Jack prided himself on, yet it was kept him alive. It was what fed his desire, his need to win. Jack took a seat at the nearest table, it happened to be poker but hell, what did it matter? As the dealer started a new round Jack anted up 50$, he anted up another day of his life.
The situation was bad, to say the least. Jack was in way over his head; as always thinking too fast, acting even quicker. Jack held a 10 of Spades and 5 of Clubs; the flop had come out Queen of Hearts, 3 of Clubs, and 7 of Diamonds. Jack upon seeing the cards had not flipped out, he had been in this situation hundreds of times.
Call, one word, perhaps one mistake. The turn had come off nicely, a 10 of Diamonds. Jack was not one to sit around all day and watch. All-in, two words, perhaps two mistakes. Jack had in play seven grand in chips, his only lasting competitor-a middle-aged bald Texan with a little less than ten in chips.
The pot was at twenty-three, and Jack wasnt going down. Call, the Texan hardly hesitated. Jack held a 10 and the 5, the Texan held a 3 of Diamonds and a Jack of Spades. Now was the moment, six months of wait, six months of loss. Jack eyed the card closely, the back held an intricate pattern of interweaving threads; like snakes.
The card flipped; a 3 of Spades; Jacks heart sank taking his stomach with it. Jack let himself into his desolate Motel 6 single, drunk and depressed. After losing all he had at the poker table Jack had downed ten shots of Jager at the casinos bar. It was not twenty minutes till he was escorted out, but not after having heaved on two customers.
Jack slowly undressed himself. He slung his Armani tux into the bathroom, he wouldnt be needing it; for a while at least. He picked up a pen and a pad and wrote in his slurred handwriting: I leave all my earthly possessions to Joe and Maria Marks, 25 Banbury Lane, Chicago Illinois. The note was short and bitter, much like his life had been. Jack threw open the first drawer in his bureau and pulled out a .45 Colt.
He opened the chamber, three shots. The other three bullets were still somewhere in Liberty Bank back in Chicago. Jack slammed shut the chamber and cocked the hammer. He placed the barrel in his mouth and prayed, Forgive me for I have sinned. Protect me in life and in death.
Then Jack ate lead.
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