I fell asleep on Rider’s shoulder as our first class seats carried
us to the west coast.
“Sorry, Uncle Rider,” I apologized when I woke up as the plane
lost latitude as we prepared to land.
“Rule number one: stop calling me Uncle Rider. You’re making me
feel like an old man.”
“What’s rule number two?”
“Stop worrying.”
“I’m not worried.”
He gave me a knowing smile.
“I think I have every right to be worried.”
Rider reminded me that had they sold the heroin the payoff was far
greater than the cost so the potential money lost was far greater
than the actual money lost. Once Scotch auctioned off the cars to her
friends and we near cleaned out the vault, our family was almost in
the clear. I soon realized the importance of the word “almost”.
Almost was nothing for Senior; almost was a lot for Rider and I. He
still had a lot of overhead himself and making honest money was
difficult.
I loved life in California though. I wrote my exams there and did
exceptionally well. Rider enrolled me in a private school for the
following school year, though I begged to be homeschooled.
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