Page 2 of Sexting the Don

Jimmy gets a faraway look in his eyes, and I know the worst is yet to come.

“They took it,” he says. “It’s all gone. All that money I freakin’ scraped together and saved and begged for, it’s all gone. Those assholes said it was supposed to be a sure thing, you know? Front them a little dough to get things running, and then once the betting operation was up and running, we’d be printing cash.”

My blood runs cold as I realize what he’s saying.

“Jimmy, what do you mean ‘it’s all gone’? Please don’t tell me you dipped into what little savings you and Mom had for this?”

He presses his lips together into a hard, thin line.

Oh God, it’s worse than that.

“We didn’t have much of anything saved,” he says. “A couple of thousand. These guys said they needed more, at least ten large. So, I—”

“You borrowed it.”

Jimmy’s been in this kind of trouble before. When guys like him “borrow” money, it’s not from a bank, it’s from loan sharks, the kind of men who will do anything to recoup what they’re owed.

“I thought I’d figured it out perfectly,” he says pitifully. “The loan sharks tacked on an insane interest rate, but the money we weresupposed to make was going to outpace that. A few months, and I’d be back in the black.”

My stomach roils at the implications. Jimmy took his and Mom’s savings, lost it, and then got them into evenmoredebt with some unsavory folks.

“Tell me where you stand now,” I say. “And no bullshit.”

He takes another long sip of Cab. “We’re screwed. These guys gave me a month to start paying them back. And if I don’t …” He trails off, dragging the back of his thumb against his neck in the universal sign for decapitation. He doesn’t need to say another word.

I don’t even know how to respond. Jimmy just told me that he screwed the family, maybe for good this time. My heart’s racing. I’m not a low-life crook like my dad, but I know enough about that world by association to know what kind of sociopathic freaks inhabit it.

“They threatened to kill you?” I ask, trying to stay calm.

“Not directly. But I know they’ll come for everything I own,” he says. “Cars, furniture, anything that’s not bolted down. And when the house is totally empty, they’ll take that, too.”

Right now, there’s too much rage boiling inside me to feel anything else. Jimmy didn’t just put himself in danger; he put Mom in the line of fire, too. If Jimmy loses the house, that means they’re both out on the street.

“This is bad, Nugget,” he says, using my old pet name, the one he busts out when he wants to appeal to my soft side. “Really bad.”

I want to rip into him, scream my head off right in the middle of the restaurant. But I keep my temper in check. He’s never had acool head, so over the years, I’ve had to learn that skill.

“I don’t have any money to give you,” I say. “I’m saving up for an apartment, and whatever I have left over goes to Mom, which means it goes to you.”

“I’ve been keeping a handle on our finances, Nugget, until now.”

“First of all, do not call me that.” There’s anger in my voice, venom dripping off my words. His eyes flash, and he’s taken aback.

“I just thought—”

“You clearly weren’t thinking at all,” I shoot back. “Because if you were, our family wouldn’t be in this situation.”

He puts up his palms in a surrender gesture. “Kid, this is bad. If we don’t get the money soon—”

“I get it.” I cut him off.

Jimmy offers a weak smile, then looks around admiringly.

“This is a nice place,” he says. “I bet you get a lot of fancy customers, people with money.”

I don’t know where he’s going with this, but I already don’t like it.

“Get to the point.”

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