Matt McMillan looked across the darkened parking lot with a lump of dread in his stomach. The night was chill and he pulled his coat tighter. The heater in his old car didn’t work so well, and he didn’t want to waste gas keeping the engine running. Who knew how long it might take this guy to show? He was already almost an hour late. But Antonio had assured him the guy was still on his way. Just wait for him, he’d warned. Matt didn’t want to think about what might happen if he didn’t do what Antonio wanted.

He rubbed his hands together to warm them. He couldn’t believe he was in this mess. Again. This time, his father had gone too far. The first time Matt had to drop out of college to work to pay off his father’s gambling debt, Matt swore he’d leave and never look back. But he couldn’t leave his mother unprotected. Not with a man like his father around, who would get into trouble that he expected other people to get him out of. Matt couldn’t stand to think his dad might get his mother hurt one of these days.

So, he’d stuck around to make sure she was safe, and even worked double shifts at a factory to cover his father’s debts. Eventually, he’d even managed to return to school. Only to have to drop out again a month later.

Matt would have thought his father would have more respect for himself than to keep getting into the same mess over and over. Didn’t the man know by now that he was a crappy card player and an even crappier gambler? The man just needed to sit his ass at home and watch TV and drink beer like any other worthless husband. At least that way, he wouldn’t bring trouble to anyone else.

After the second time Matt had to quit school and clean up after his father, he moved out. He made lots of threats, had even punched his father in the gut. His dad had apologized over and over. Too little too late. But he’d also promised to quit gambling and to get his act together for his mother’s sake. Matt’s biggest fault was believing him.

This time, the call had come from his mother.

“Matty,” she’d said in that nickname he loathed, “you should get to the hospital. Your dad’s real sick, and he wants to see you.”

Who would deny their parents that? So, he’d gone to the hospital and seen his dad. Liver failure. Well sure, after all those years of slinging back whiskey and Coke, no wonder. He’d done himself in this time. And being in his late fifties, if he didn’t turn things around fast, he’d be dead before long.

Matt sat at his father’s side and listened to what his mother and the doctors and nurses told him about his father’s condition. Treatable, they said. But he had to stop drinking. Fat chance. And he had to take his medication. And eat right. And exercise. Ha! Matt had actually laughed out loud when the doctor said the “E” word. His father had never done a single minute of exercise in his life.

“Well, if he wants to live, he’ll start now,” the doctor said, then gave his father a pointed look and left the room.

“Should we start planning your funeral now?” Matt asked. “We both know you’re not going to do any of that.”

“Matthew!” his mother shrieked. “Don’t say things like that.”

“I have to. Because we’re both thinking it. Someone has to say it. You’ve been a lazy bum your whole life and now it’s all catching up to you.” This was why Matt spent five days a week at the gym. He’d never be like his father in any way.

“He’s going to try hard,” his mother said, patting his father on the hand. “Aren’t you?”

His father nodded. But the moment his mother walked out of the room to get some coffee, his father motioned to him to come closer.

“I need your help, Son.”

It was never a good sign when he brought out the “Son” bull. “Not a chance. I’ve done enough for you.”

“Please. It’s your mother.”

Matt narrowed his eyes slightly. “What?”

“When I got sick”—He paused to cough for effect—“I got into some trouble. I couldn’t work or anything, so I tried to win some money.”

“No, no, no.” Matt stood and pulled on his coat.

“Just wait. I had no choice! I had to pay the bills. I wasn’t going to ask you for help. It was all I could do. I’m not able to do anything more right now. I know it’s my fault. I know I did this to myself. Can’t you see I’m miserable?”

“You look it. With the nurses bringing your food and water. I bet you’d be happy to stay here for weeks.”

“Please, Matt. I’m dying. I can feel it.”

“Seriously? You’re fine. If you do what the doctors say, you’ll live a nice long time.” He mumbled, “Unfortunately.”

“You have no reason to help me. You’ve done too much for me already and I can’t ask you to do any more.”

“Yet, you’re going to.” Matt sat back down, but kept his coat on as a sign he might walk any moment.

“I don’t have a choice. They’re threatening your mother.”

“Who is?”

“The people I owe money to.”

“Who is it this time and how much?”

His father swallowed hard and went pale. “It’s… much worse than before.”

“You better be joking.”

“No one else would take me in their game.”

“I wonder why! You can’t pay up!”

“Matt.” His father looked at him with more terror than he’d ever seen his father possess. “It’s the mafia,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The mafia. I owe them a hundred grand.”

Matt stood and took several steps toward the door. His mother appeared and intercepted him, however.

“You’re leaving already?” she asked.

“This piece of shit is a joke.” Matt pointed as his father. “Let me know when he dies. I might consider attending the funeral.”

He’d stormed out of there and hadn’t talked to his parents for days. But his mom called, sobbing and hysterical, a few days later. Her tires had been slashed. A window had been broken in their living room and a threatening note left. The electric would go out in days because they couldn’t pay the bill.

Matt had looked down at the check in his hand while his mother went on sobbing and begging. When Matt hung up, he tore the check to shreds. He would not be sending two thousand dollars to the college to resume classes next semester. He would be sending that money to his parents so they would have food and electric and whatever else they needed that his worthless father could no longer provide. Matt had punched the wall, then had to fix it.

But of course, giving them the money was only half of it. There was still the debt. Matt had called Antonio, his father’s connection to the mob. He’d hoped to work out a deal or get his father off. Something. But of course, all the movies and TV he’d seen about the mafia weren’t an exaggeration. There was no reasoning with them. His father had to pay and that was that. They’d kill his mother and collect the life insurance policy money to pay for the debts. When Matt stated there was no life insurance policy, Antonio had only laughed.

So, here he was. Sitting in a dark parking lot. Waiting for a guy to show up so that Matt could exchange the drugs in his trunk for the guns this guy would have. Then, he’d have to work for who knew how much longer to pay everything off. The mob didn’t exactly pay well. He had basically become their slave for life. Unless he found a way to come up with a hundred thousand, he would be stuck doing errands for Antonio and the other mafia bosses.

Finally, the car pulled in. Matt waited for the sign. The guy flashed his lights three times and Matt got out of the car.

He approached the man and asked the code question. “You happen to have a flare?”

The man nodded. “I got one in my trunk.”

Matt walked over to the trunk, but the man didn’t open it.

“Where is my stuff?” he asked.

Matt nodded toward his car. “Antonio said to get the guns first.”

“Did he now?” The guy crossed his arms. “Isn’t that interesting? Because my guy said to get the drugs first. I think we have a bit of a problem here.”

Matt backed away as the guy changed stances. But he backed into two more men.

“I’m just here to do the exchange,” Matt said, pleading. “I don’t want any trouble. Just do the trade and we can all go.”

“The problem is,” the guy sneered, “I don’t want to give you my guns. I’m going to keep them, and I’m going to take everything you have.”

The two guys grabbed Matt’s arms and held him while the guy in front dug through his pockets and patted him down. Matt didn’t fight back. He didn’t have any weapons on him. He knew these were all bad people. He hated to think what might come of this, and he’d probably pay for it somehow.

But they weren’t satisfied with just the drugs. The guy in the car tossed the keys to another man who appeared out of the shadows. This whole thing was a set up. The guy went to Matt’s car and he was forced to watch as all the drugs were removed.

Why had Antonio sent him alone? They had plenty of manpower to spare. Weren’t their drugs worth anything to them? Or maybe they wanted Matt to take the fall for a bad deal.

The man who had first stepped out of the car pulled a gun from his back pocket and aimed it at Matt.

“Now, run along little boy. You tell Antonio I said thanks.”

Matt broke free form the men holding him and dashed toward his car. Gunshots rang out, hitting the ground around him as he ran. He dove behind the car, using it for cover.

He thought he was safe. Then two more men came out of the shadows behind him.

The first punch caught him by surprise. He’d been watching the guy with the gun, trying to make sure he wasn’t going to get shot. He’d been punched in the spine and had doubled over. Then, a punch that snapped Matt’s nose and sent a stream of blood down his chin.3

He’d stammered back in shock, only to fall under the pummeling of fists. He was hit in the chin, the cheek, the stomach. He couldn’t see straight. Somewhere in all that, in the blood smearing his vision, he stumbled and fell. The men around him—how many were there now?—started to kick him. When he saw the world around him start to go black and his ears rang, he thought it was the end.

As he passed out, he thought about his mother and hoped she wouldn’t have to pay like this for what his father had done.