Chapter 7
Evening arrived quietly, and I was relaxing in the living room, trying to recover from an exhausting day of forced socializing with Ernie. Charlie walked past , grabbing his keys from the table near the door.
"Don't wait up, guys," he announced casually, straightening his shirt collar.
Alan glanced up suspiciously from the sofa. "Back to Vegas?"
Charlie smiled smugly, adjusting his cuffs. "Even better. Sherman Oaks. The gateway to Van Nuys."
Alan raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Kate again? Charlie, you really don't know what you're getting into with single mothers."
Charlie shrugged casually, clearly unconcerned. "Relax, Alan. I can handle myself just fine."
Alan rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Famous last words."
I looked over at Charlie with mock seriousness. "As long as I don't have to entertain any more twelve-year-old kids, you've got my full support, Uncle Charlie."
Charlie chuckled lightly, flashing an appreciative grin. "Deal, Jake."
Alan stood up, suddenly rembering sothing important. "Oh, by the way, I'm going out tonight too."
Charlie stopped abruptly, giving Alan a curious look. "You? Out? That's unusual. What's the occasion?"
Alan cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed but excited at the sa ti. "Well, I volunteered to help Gloria with the soccer league newsletter."
"Oh, Gloria—the one who drives the kid van?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Why?" Alan responded
Charlie and I exchanged knowing glances. I raised an eyebrow at Uncle Charlie, who smirked subtly, trying not to laugh.
"Nothing," Charlie replied casually. "Have fun."
The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. After stretching lazily, I made my way to the kitchen to get so breakfast. As I entered, I imdiately noticed Alan sitting at the table, with dark eyes and a broken nose with so curative in it.
I stopped, staring in disbelief. "Dad? What happened to you?"
Alan groaned quietly, clearly embarrassed. "I... slipped."
I narrowed my eyes skeptically. "Slipped?"
"Yes, Jake, slipped," he repeated, avoiding eye contact.
At that mont, Charlie entered the kitchen, yawning heavily. He glanced briefly at Alan's injured face but didn't say anything about it. Instead, he walked straight to the coffee pot, pointing at it as he turned to Alan.
"Regular or decaf?" Charlie asked casually.
Alan sighed. "Regular."
Charlie poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a slow sip. Alan waited a few monts, clearly irritated. Eventually, unable to contain himself, Alan snapped, "Aren't you even the slightest bit curious about what happened?"
Charlie glanced at him calmly, sipping his coffee again. "Were you with Gloria last night?"
"Yes, I was."
Charlie nodded slowly, taking another thoughtful sip. "Then I think I can fill in the blanks."
I poured myself so orange juice, shaking my head in amusent at the exchange between Charlie and Alan.
Then I leaned forward, rembering sothing important. I leaned closer to Charlie and lowered my voice so Alan wouldn't overhear.
"Put two hundred thousand on both the Rams and the Titans winning today. Parlay style."
Charlie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alright, that the biggest bet I made in my life. That leaves ninety grand."
I glanced at Alan, who was still too grumpy and sore to pay attention. Then I whispered, "Put the rest on the Rams winning the Super Bowl. Final score: 23 to 16. But don't tell Dad."
Charlie gave a look, half amused and half impressed. "You're serious?"
I nodded. "Dead serious."
Charlie pulled out his phone and started making the bets. A few minutes later, he looked up from the screen with a satisfied grin.
"Okay," he said. "The parlay bet—Titans and Rams to win today—ca back at 3.5 to 1. If it hits, we're talking seven hundred grand."
I nodded, already doing the math in my head.
"And the other one," he continued, still staring at his phone, "the exact final score—Rams win 23 to 16—that one paid out a hundred to one. That's... insane."
He shook his head in disbelief. "If that miracle happens, we're adding nine million to the pot."
I smiled faintly. "Good. Let's make history."
———
By late afternoon, we were all gathered in the living room, snacks on the table, and all eyes glued to the TV. The Titans pulled ahead against the Jaguars and held strong, securing their spot in the final. Charlie clapped once, satisfied.
"One down."
Next ca the Rams vs. Buccaneers. It was a tense ga, close all the way through. But just like I rembered, the Rams pulled ahead in the final minutes. The house exploded in cheers.
"YES!" Charlie shouted, throwing his arms up. "We did it!"
Alan blinked in confusion. "Wait, what do you an 'we'?"
Charlie cleared his throat, shooting a subtle glance. "Just... sports talk."
Alan paused halfway to the kitchen, squinting suspiciously. "Wait a minute... You two bet again, didn't you?"
Charlie and I exchanged a brief look, then Charlie gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe."
Alan set the chips down on the counter. "Well? How much did we win?"
Charlie leaned back with a proud grin. "Seven hundred grand."
Alan blinked. "Seven... hundred... thousand dollars??!"
I nodded, trying to keep my cool, but I couldn't help the grin tugging at my lips.
Alan raised his arms triumphantly. "We're rich! Again!"
Charlie laughed. "That's more like it."
Alan grabbed a soda from the fridge and popped it open like it was champagne. "Jake, you're not just my son—you're our lucky charm."
I smiled, then leaned back. "Now it's ti for the final bet."
Charlie looked at curiously. "You want to go in again?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Let's put a hundred thousand on the Rams winning the Super Bowl—exact score, 23 to 16."
Charlie whistled low. "You really believe in that score."
"I do," I said confidently. "That'll leave us with around 268 thousand for and you, and 63 for Dad."
Alan looked between us, surprised. "Wait—you already did the math?"
"Of course," I said casually. "But don't worry, we're not putting it all in. We've got enough left over to invest, or bet smart later."
Charlie grinned. "Alright, kid. Let's make more money."
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