Dwight, unpacked and settled into his hotel room, went down to the hotel’s casino. He sat at the sport’s bar and ordered a Crown Royal. It was after two in the afternoon, and he was at a reunion. Good enough excuse. He sipped the drink while he watched the screens. He had to figure a way out of this fix. He was up to his ears in gambling debts and he really didn’t want to think about how he got into this mess. Blaming Dawn, his second ex-wife, was the loser’s way out. It wasn’t her fault, he thought as he watched a horse race on one of the screens. No more than it was Jean’s.

He circled the glass on the bar in the moisture under it, idly watching the spiral circles it made on the glossy top. Dwight sipped again. How had he gotten here? Dawn left him. That was the start. Too much time at the local bar. Crown Royal wasn’t exactly cheap. Then the gambling at the Off-Track Betting shop. That didn’t help matters. Especially since he was losing. OTB didn’t give credit so he found himself in a little neighborhood still mostly Irish. There was a helpful young man there that would take his bets on the cuff. Dwight sighed and rubbed the spot just above the bridge of his nose.

What the hell had he been thinking? Now he was ten grand in the hole and the bookie wanted his money. Dwight sipped again, his stomach in a knot. He didn’t have ten grand. Hell, he had all he could do to pay the rent on the low-end apartment he was living in. Damn! He drank the last of the Crown Royal and signaled for another. He really couldn’t afford to come to the reunion despite the fact he wanted to see all of his old friends from Afghanistan. While the place had been a living hell, he’d made good friends with the people in Combined Joint Force Command squadron AG2017. They were good people sharing a hard, miserable assignment. His arrival in Las Vegas reminded him a lot of Afghanistan. Hot sun scorching everything it touched, even in April, dust, blinding light, it was not a pleasant reminder.

The bartender brought the drink. Dwight nodded his thanks. He was about to pick it up when a hand fell heavy on his shoulder. His heart nearly stopped.

“Dwight! Old buddy. What brings you to Vegas?”

Dwight turned to see who belonged to the deep voice. “Duncan? A long way from Boston.”

Duncan sat on the stool next to Dwight and waved over the bartender. “Irish Whisky.”

The bartender nodded and moved off.

“I’m here ‘cause Jimmy noticed you leavin’ town.” Duncan shook his head. “And you owin’ all that money. It made Jimmy think you were skippin’ out on your debt.”

“No, no, Duncan. I’m here to attend a reunion. Old military buddies from Afghanistan. I’m just here for the weekend. You know, catch up with old friends.”

Duncan nodded. “I hear ya. My brother, Mike, joined the Army. He got sent to that pit. Died when his hummer hit an IED.” Duncan said all of that while staring into the bottles on the bar back.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Duncan. Too many young men and women died there.”

Duncan nodded as the bartender brought him his drink. Duncan peeled a twenty from a roll he’d taken from his pocket and dropped it on the bar. The bartender grinned. “Any change?”

Duncan shook his head.

“Thanks, buddy.”

Duncan nodded and the bartender moved off. “I’m sorry you had to serve there.”

“Two tours, with my wife.”

Duncan’s eyebrows rose. “No shit?”

“Yeah. We left our son with the grandparents and spent a year there. Then two years later, another tour.” Dwight shook his head Why the hell didn’t they go separately instead of leaving Jim all alone twice. It must have made sense at the time.

“That’s a shame. The little man must have missed you.”

“Yeah. He did.” Dwight sipped his drink.

“Despite that, Dwight, you gotta pay up. By the end of the month.” Duncan drank his whisky down in one gulp and slapped the glass down on the bar with a thump that made the bartender turn to look.

“I’m trying to get the money together, Duncan. Tell Jimmy that. I’m good for my debts.”

Duncan nodded. “Good to know, Dwight. But if we don’t get the money by the end of the month,” he cracked his knuckles. “Well, I’ll have to have a more…personal discussion.”

Dwight could feel his blood pressure rise. “Understood. I’ll get it to Jimmy as soon as I can.”

Duncan swung off of the barstool and with a heavy hand, smacked Dwight on the shoulder. “Remember what I said.” He moved off as Dwight nodded.

Dwight realized he was holding his breath after Duncan moved out of sight. He took a deep breath and swallowed his drink in one gulp. He signaled for another. The bartender brought the bottle over and poured. He eyed Duncan’s empty glass.

“He’s gone. Won’t need another.”

The bartender nodded and went back to the other end of the bar where he was chatting up two young women.

Dwight drummed his fingers on the bar. He needed to make some contacts this weekend. He needed a new job, one that paid more. That didn’t answer his immediate problem, though. Where was he going to get ten grand in two weeks? 

Next Chapter: Alternate Dwight Story Chapter Four