Five Finger Discount

"Touchdown!" the television announcer shouted and Nick felt his heart drop like a stone into his stomach. As the crowd on the screen cheered, Nick was crossed the room, wadded up the sheet of paper in his hands and threw it in the wastepaper basket by his little desk. The paper ball hit the side of the little trash can and slowly rolled its way back to his feet, his crossed out picks stared up at him, taunting him. Disgust and fear ran through him as he looked at them. He was disgusted at all of the football teams he'd picked that week for losing what the experts had said were sure wins. He was also disgusted at himself for gambling again after two months of going without it. Everything he'd worked hard for and saved, all gone in one day. His loss of money and continued enslavement to his addiction weren't his worst fears, however. That was reserved for Mickey down at the corner bar.

Mickey Two Legs was a small time bookie who ran all of the gambling in their part of town from his booth at the Irish Eyes bar. He had reputation of being a fair man when it came to paying out winnings and collecting them. He was always more than willing to give people the amount of time they say to gather the money, within reason. If the agreed upon time frame passed and Mickey didn't get his money, one or two of Mickey's guys would be sent out with a reminder. He didn't believe in sending small, subtle messages, either. There was a reason he was called Mickey Two Legs, after all.

Last weekend, Nick had placed a bet with Mickey, his first in months, and ended up just barely on the losing end. Because what he owed was small, only two hundred dollars, he was allowed to carry it over to the following week. With all of the talk on how easy of a week it was going to be for the dominant teams in the league, Nick felt he had a very good chance to pay back what he owed with a little extra on top for himself. He swore that, if he pulled this off, he'd quit gambling for good and pick another, less dangerous habit.

Nick bent down and picked up the wad of paper and squeezed it tight in his hand. He'd listened to all of the experts and picked all of the teams they said should win. Now, just because those men had a very off week, he was in deep for over five thousand dollars with a deadline was midnight that night. If Mickey didn't get his money by then, he would probably be in a wheelchair by morning. His knees began to throb in anticipation of the coming night, but instead of trying to soothe them by rubbing them, he opened his hand and focused all of his anger on the tiny ball of paper. He rolled it around in his hand for a couple of seconds before closing his fingers over it again and, with as much intensity as he could muster, threw the paper ball as hard as he could.

As the paper ball left his hand, he expected paper ball to bounce harmlessly against the front apartment door. He didn't expect the door to open or his roommate to duck, thus allowing the mocking reminder to fly into the hallway. "Whoa, bad day at the races again?" his roommate, Freddie, asked with a smile. He already knew the answer, but liked to ask because he knew how much talking about money matters bugged Nick. He grabbed the handle and asked, "Do you have anything else you want to toss out there before I close the door?"

Nick glared at Freddie for a single heartbeat before saying, "Yeah. You." Freddie's grin grew and he closed the door while Nick walked over to his recliner and settled into it. He really hated his roommate and that stupid, stoner grin of his. He always seemed to pull it out at the most inopportune moments, like when he owed a bookie a large sum of money. One would think he did that as a way of mocking Nick, but that might have been giving the little pothead a little too much credit. Still, when it came to roommates, even he had to admit that Freddie was a good one. His recreational habit helped to make sure the cupboards and refrigerator were always stocked up and his part of the rent was also always on time. Nick didn't think he ever wanted to know where the money came from when he never stayed with a job for very long, but now, with the predicament he found himself in, he didn't have another choice.