“In the real world, they call that twenty years in a cell with a large roommate,” I respond.
“I’m just trying to get back what’s mine,” Chris says ambiguously. “I know you think you had things hard growing up, but things were worse for me.”
“They were not!” I shout. “Even if they were—which, again, they’re not—that doesn’t entitle you to just start ripping off everyone you meet.”
“Oh right,” he says. “You know you were mom’s favorite.”
“Mom’s favorite was a half-gallon bottle of cheap vodka, with a splash of Everclear in every shot,” I snap back. “What does that have to do with anything anyway?”
“I’m just saying that you and I grew up in different worlds and mine’s not easy to get out of[5], you know?” he asks.
“If you’re trying to get out, I’ll help you get out,” I tell him, “but I’m not going to let you con me into thinking you’re going to change when we both know you’ll just look for the first chance to take a shortcut.”
“Then what do you want from me?” he asks. “If wanting to get out is the only way you’ll trust me, but you wouldn’t trust me if I said I wanted to get out, where exactly does that leave me? You’re going to just throw your own brother out onto the—”
Line: crossed.
“Do you know how many times I’ve taken you in?” I ask. “I’m only twenty-one and you’ve already used up more chances than most people get in a lifetime.”
“Whatever, dude,” he says and finally stands. He walks over to me and I’m almost expecting him to throw a punch, but he just reaches out and grabs at the remote control in my hand.
“Let go,” he says.
“We’re talking, Chris,” I tell him. “I’m not going to let you drown me out with my own television.”
“What do you expect me to say, huh?” he asks. “I wasn’t born with the gifts that you were. I’m not motivated the same way other people are,” he says. “I know that. Maybe you could even call me lazy or tell me that I just take shortcuts, but do you have any idea how much skill and planning goes into a successful job[6]? Instead of going to college, maybe you should think about interning with your big brother for a little while.”
“Three days,” I tell him. “I want some kind of substantial evidence that you’re turning things around within three days, or I want you out of my house.”
“It’s like that, huh?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “That’s what it’s like.”
“Harsh, bro,” Chris says. “And how exactly am I supposed to give you some kind of evidence you’ll actually believe. You’ve never really given me the benefit of the doubt.”
“I did give you the benefit of the doubt,” I tell him. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt when we were both kids and you were the closest thing to a functioning parent that I had, but you lie all the time, Chris. For all I know, your entire half of this conversation has been completely made-up.”
“By the way,” he says, “that chick you’ve been seeing: what’s her story?”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“What? She’s cute,” he says.
My fingers bend into my palms and my mouth is open, ready for whatever diatribe is about to come out, but that’s when I see the gleam in Chris’s eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“You’re just trying to get me mad now,” I observe. “Why?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that I was going to try to steal her out from under you,” Chris says. “I just wanted to know a little bit more about her in case things go bad with the two of you.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask. “Do you really think that’s a smart decision?”
“Put the guns back in their holsters,” he laughs, patting one of my arms. “I just wanted to break the tension.”
“You know, I don’t think it worked,” I tell him.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “Let me back toward home tonight and I’ll see how things look. If everything’s copacetic, I’ll just be gone.”
“If it’s not?” I ask.
“Well, I might need you to help me get back out of there again,” he says.
Chris never has fewer than half a dozen people on the hook at any given time. Most of them are quick, five-minutes-and-out cons, but he’s never let someone with an impressive pocketbook go so easily. The story he’s giving me, as outlandish as it is, can’t be the whole truth.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask him.
“Nothing, I swear!” he protests.
“Isn’t that the line you always used when mom asked you if you’d stolen any of her vodka while she was sleeping?” I ask.
“Okay,” he says, “I can see the charm everyone else knows and loves isn’t going to be enough.”
“Stop trying to con me,” I tell him. “Are you going to make a change or are you going to find somewhere else to live?”
“Mase,” he starts.
“I hate that name,” I interrupt.
“Mason, brother, whatever you want me to call you, look,” he says. “I’ve got some money[7] and collateral[8] tied up right now, and I can’t just walk away from that.”
“How much are you down?” I ask.
“It’s really not all that much,” he says. “I never like to let a client[9] hold onto too much money for too long. A lot of people don’t know how to handle large sums of money. They start to get ideas.”
“How much?” I ask.
“Does the number really matter?” he asks. “It’s not like it makes any difference.”
“Chris,” I say, looking my brother hard in the eyes, “how much?”
“I don’t have the exact figures at the moment, but if you’ll give me and my secretary until Friday—” he starts.
“You have five seconds either to tell me how much you’re down or to grab your stuff and get out of my house,” I tell him.
He sighs.
“It’s really not that big a deal,” he says. “My partner[10] doesn’t know about my other investors[11], so it’s not like I’m really down,” he says, “but I’ve got about two-fifty tied up in all of it.”
“Tell me that’s just in normal dollars and not in the hundreds of thousands,” I breathe.
“Yeah, sure, of course it is,”[12] he says.
“Where do you even get your hands on that kind of cash?” I ask. “I thought you dealt with smaller cons. Even the longer ones were only ever a couple thousand here and there. What have you gotten yourself into? Are the cops looking for you? Do they know about you?”
“No,” he says. “I’ve got a friend on the force[13] who gives me the heads-up if someone files a report. I’m not that worried about the money,[14] really, I just want what’s mine.”
“You’re not in with loan sharks or anything like that, are you?” I ask.