Chapter 11
Three months passed in a flash, and suddenly, it was April. The Harper Managent Fund was running, my haircut was still sharp, and my wardrobe was far from anything you'd find in a kid's departnt.
Charlie, of course, hadn't stopped pushing the gambling angle. "Co on, Jake. You nailed the Super Bowl. Let's keep the streak alive!" he'd say at least once a week.
I humored him. But the truth was, most gas that ca up in February and March? I had no mory of them. Regular season NBA gas? Hockey? Golf? I had no idea who won. I wasn't about to throw thousands of dollars at random scores. Still, to keep him happy, I made a few small bets here and there—lost about five thousand overall.
"You win so, you lose so," Charlie shrugged. "It's part of the ga."
"It's not a ga when it's real money," I reminded him. "But I've got better plays coming."
Because while I didn't know everything about every sport, I did rember who won the big ones. The Lakers were going to win the NBA Finals in June. Real Madrid would lift the Champions League trophy at the end of May. And those weren't risky long-shots. They were just... waiting to happen.
So I told Charlie, "Let's go futures. Championship bets only. Lakers for the NBA. Real Madrid for the Champions League."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure about the soccer one?"
I grinned. "Uncle Charlie, I may not love basketball, but I'm a soccer guy"
anwhile, not all the attention stayed on betting and fashion. One morning in March, Judith found out about the gambling.
"You WHAT?!" Her voice could probably be heard three blocks away.
Alan tried to explain, stamring through how it all started with the Playoffs and how Jake had a magic touch. Judith wasn't having it.
"He's a CHILD! He shouldn't even know what odds are, let alone how to bet with real money!"
She stord into the house, pointing at Charlie. "This is your influence! I knew it!"
Charlie raised his hands. "Hey, technically, he's the one who won us the millions. I was just driving."
She paced, fuming—until she saw the total earnings. Then sothing changed.
"Wait... he made how much?"
"More than nineteen million," I said calmly.
Judith blinked. She gaped, than her eyes narrowed. Then she smiled. Not a happy smile. A lawyer smile.
"I want in. And you better believe I'm asking for half in the divorce."
I glanced over at Charlie and muttered, "Just like Gramma."
The days passed, and though I still rolled my eyes at how ssy my family could be, I had to admit sothing—sothing I wouldn't have said back in January. My mom and dad, despite all their flaws (and there are a lot), were trying. Alan still hovered with his awkward affection, and Judith still nagged about things like bedtis and screen ti. But they were there. They were involved. And they love .
I used to sigh and complain that I had a bitchy mom and a simp dad. But now? After three chaotic, crazy months... they were both trying to be good parents.
And in their own weird ways, they were succeeding.
There were other changes too. I had started working out—not like so crazy gym rat, but enough to lose the baby fat and feel stronger. A couple of morning jogs with Charlie (a miracle that only happened because, after bothering him a lot, we jog one day, and that day he got laid with one of the hottest girls I even saw) and a few sets of push-ups each day added up. I wasn't scrawny, but I wasn't the chubby kid from January either.
At school, things took an unexpected turn. I began acing every test—math, history, even science. Teachers started calling on more, students started whispering, and my reputation shifted from lazy to genius.
One teacher asked directly, "Jake, what changed? You're getting perfect scores all of a sudden." They were suspicious at first, but I demonstrate that I don't have to cheat to have a perfect score
I shrugged with a lazy smile. "Guess I was just being too lazy before. Decided to put in a little more effort."
Technically true. Just not the full truth.
On the investnt side, I decided to play it smart. I put a chunk of our fund into BlackRock. To dig deeper into the dot-com scene, I had Charlie reach out to a few financial analysts he knew through so of his old party circles. We posed as eager investors looking for the next big tech win.
The recomndations poured in—dozens of flashy, overhyped dot-com startups with zero revenue and billion-dollar valuations. Pretty much exactly what I expected. Only one analyst gave an honest opinion: "I wouldn't touch anything dot-com right now. They're all inflated beyond belief."
He was right. That guy deserved a bonus.
Of course, I already knew what was coming. But even with that knowledge, I stayed cautious. I knew shorting the market could have made us filthy rich—especially if I had gone in leveraged. But the risk of losing more than we invested didn't sit well with .
Instead, I went with put options. Safer. Controlled losses. And when the bubble burst in March, they printed money like a dream.
We more than doubled the capital in the Harper Managent Fund. I'm managing an incredible 24 million fund now.
Charlie tried to act cool, but he started calling 'Money Maker Jake.'
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