Rolling with Dice

Chapter 5

"You're leaving for how long?" my mother shouted again, her eyebrows dipping close to her hairline in shock.

"Five weeks," I repeated. I told her I was heading away on a very special business trip for Mr. Flores, which meant that I was getting promoted to a much higher role than a bellboy.

My mom shook her head apprehensively, not liking the idea one bit.

"But baby ..." she said talking to me slowly as if I were three years old, "five weeks is long time,"

"Trust me," I said in memory of all I had to do in that time, "it really isn't."

My mother threw her hands in the air in frustration. "But Milo! You're just sixteen!"

"Almost seventeen," I reminded her, pulling out a seat at the dinner table to sit next to her. I stared her dead in the eye. "Mom, I have to do this, it'll be great for my career!"

"What about school?" she queered with a hint of a smirk.

I inwardly slapped my forehead. I'd been so focus on work that I'd forgot all about that stupid place of education.

"I'll make it up in the summer," I thought off the top of my head, "It's not like I had anything planned –"

"Milo," my mom cut off warningly, taking on her parental 'no-nonsense' tone, "I don't like the idea of you missing a month of school all for a job that'll always be there."

"Yeah ...." I said nervously scratching the back of my head. "About that ..."

I was greatly dreading this point of our conversation.

"I can't back out because I kinda, maybe, sorta, well ..." I stammered shiftily under my mother's stony, Medusa-like glare, which did not make what I was about to say any easier. Her hard expression said "Spit it out already!" but I knew she was mentally chanting, "Please don't let it be drugs. Please don't let it be drugs!"

I knew she was losing her patience, so I decided not to beat around the bush and rushed it all in one breath:

"IhavetoleaveforworktomorrowbecauseIhaveacontractwithMr.FloresandIcan'tbreakoutofitbecauseIalreadysignedit."

My mom's eyes were wild. "You did what?"

"But!" I added quickly, "On the plus side, he did say he'd pay me ten million dollars if I go on the trip! And he'll throw in a Ferrari!"

My mother's face lit up like a Christmas tree in December at the mention of the money. I could easily see that all was forgiven.

"T-Ten m-m-million d-dollars?" she stuttered, gripping the back of her chair to steady herself, her knuckles whitening, "Is he serious?"

I nodded my head. "Dead serious."

"Ten million dollars...that's a lot of money!" she whispered to herself gradually bringing her nails to her mouth.

"And a Ferrari," I said lazily, leaning back on the two legs of my chair.

Then, without warning, my mother leaped up from her seat and squealed like a little girl. "I can't believe this!"

I smiled at her. "Believe it."

"You're –"

"Uh huh."

"Giving me –"

"The Best Son in the world?"

"A Ferrari!"

I froze, and blinked at her incomprehensibly.

Did this mad woman actually think she was going to just take my Ferrari away from me?! I mean I know she's my mother, and I know she gave me life and blah blah blah, but you and I both know that it comes to a brand new Ferrari ...all bets are off.