The Biggest Loser Of All Time

There is no limit to what man will do, without thought or reason that will alter or even destroy his life. Plus you are caught in a perpetual spiral that doesn't stop and you can't control anything. This is my story and it is real.

I had the idyllic life, beautiful wife and daughter, home, great job, good friends, annual vacation you name it. I did have some vices, some drinking, a little loose with credit debt, but mostly it was the slow growing seedy vice: gambling.

It started innocently enough, guy friends getting together in each others home for a little poker game. At first we had match sticks, we moved to pennies, nickels and then dollars.

It never got crazy, but on a good night you could win a hundred bucks, or lose the same.

At the office we had our little pool bets, football, basketball and on, again never with any back breaking losses at risk, just a little entertainment.

One afternoon I passed a co-workers office who was in a joyous mood just after hanging up the phone. He waved me in and said that his bookie just informed him of a win and he won five hundred. I congratulated him and returned to my desk with a nagging ache in my gut that I wanted that feeling, that action and excitement.

What I now call a disease or addiction at the time, started to consume my waking thoughts and late night as well. So much so that distractions at work and home became more frequent. I had to do something to appease the demands that my mind was making.

I ran into my co-worker in the break room one afternoon and during our conversation asked him if I could use his bookie. He didn't seem to mind and gave me the name Marcus, with a phone number and to mention his name. He did give me a warning that I should never make a bet I couldn't cover. When I inquired why he would mention that, he said that he had heard that Marcus had some associates that made sure of collections.

I had no such concerns, this was never going to get out of hand and I would remain in control. I called the number I was given and got a cold response, I don't even know if it was Marcus on the line. Asking me questions on what I was looking for, how much in daily and weekly action, the answers were the best I could provide since this was all a new game to me.

What stood out was that everything would be cash, both the bet and payoff. I was to drop off my bet to a guy in a certain bar, collect any winnings in another bar, both downtown. If I wanted I could also remain in the bank that is leave the winnings to cover a future bet. It all seemed simple and straight up. When the question was did I want to make a bet, I said yes, gave them the particulars and said twenty five bucks. I got a laugh on the other end of the line saying the minimum was $100.

And so it started. For the first six weeks I placed minimum bets and won almost 75% of the time, an unusually high percentage. Most of the time I would collect my winnings in person at the assigned bar, I just had to feel the dough to know I was winning. I was feeling bulletproof as far as my betting skills were concerned.

So naturally I started to up the ante, first $200 then up to $500 a bet. My winning percentage shrunk to barely half of the time, still good but starting to tread water. I still had the cash flow at home to be under the radar screen with the wife and our life showed no difference in how we lived.

I started feeling comfortable with Marcus on the phone, so much so we would even banter a little with some jokes and talking crap about politics. He even told me that he liked me and considered us buddies, even though we had never laid eyes on each other, or so I believed. I should have had a hunch about this because this was starting the point of no return.

Telephoning Marcus on a Thursday afternoon with a standard bet for me, he told me of a very hot tip on a horse race at an out of state track. He told me it was a slam dunk, or basically that the fix was in and he was alerting his people to hit it. I was suckered and said put $200 in, he stated in no uncertain terms that in order to play I needed to "go heavy" When I inquired what does that mean; the response was it means $5,000.

Backpedaling I said I didn't have it, was there any other options to take. He said since I was a regular that he could cover it, but just in case the bet went south, I could pay next week. I did have that much in our savings account, but my wife and I always discussed the use of that money, emergencies, and major appliances and the like. Marcus pushed me for an answer, he had people on hold; I swallowed hard and said go for it.

I sweated that weekend horribly to the point my wife and daughter asked me continually was anything wrong. I would pace and rub my hands, kind of like a new dad waiting to hear he had a healthy new baby. I never got the particulars of the race, horse or anything; I relied on Marcus to just set it up. I promised myself over and over, whatever the outcome, I would never do this again, bet this heavy. This was not the feeling of action I craved.

The earliest I could Monday morning the call went to Marcus to hear the news. Right away he put me at ease, laughingly informing me it was a big winner as promised and I had tripled my money. Euphoric would be an understatement on how I felt at that point, so much in fact the urge to go again was overwhelming. I opted to collect my money; to see that much green piled in my paws was really cool and would make me feel cool.

I decided to keep the winnings in cash, stashing it away in a secret hiding place for my future gambling. I now felt bulletproof, the wife would see no irregular checking account activity, and I would play with just pure winnings. Life was grand and I was the grand marshal.

Feeling bold I had upped the ante, now betting upwards of $1,000 a week and didn't notice at first the increase in losses versus wins and before I really noticed, my stash was almost gone. This did not slow me down though; I knew the recovery was just at the next win. Marcus was also more open; he fronted my bets when I couldn't make it downtown to put my cash on the line. However while calling in a bet, my brain got a jolt of reality; Marcus said it was a no go, he needed $3,000 from my losses he had covered.

Feeling disgusted I thought of my only option, the savings account that I held so precious and I would probably have to inform my wife about. I was pissed that I didn't take some of the big win and place some in this account, which would have prevented the possible dilemma with the missus.

While hunting my account book, I found an old watch in the drawer which gave me an idea; we have quite a bit of old jewelry, from inheritances and such perhaps I can sell them or at least get the gold value out. I remember especially a big broach from my grandmother which was 18K gold for sure.

Gathering the loose and old jewelry I went to the outfit that was buying gold as soon as I could. The jewelry did not have a lot of value due to broken pieces or missing stones, but the gold, primarily the broach, fetched $3,800, more that enough to cover my losses and nobody being the wiser.

I went to the pub I usually do to pay, a guy told me to hang while he rung someone up. After hanging up he told me to head to the back, thru the third door on the left, that Marcus wanted to see me. Having never met Marcus all this time, I was nervous and a little scared at the same time.

Knocking and being told to come in, I saw a squirrelly looking guy sitting on the couch, he was small like a kid, skinny, very pale with red hair. He had the look of a want to be but couldn't make it if you know what I mean. However behind the desk sat a ruggedly handsome guy with long black hair combed straight back, dressed to the nine's smoking a cigar.

"Hey man, I'm Marcus, glad to finally meet you. Understand you got my money" he stated bluntly.

"Yes, yes I do" I stammered out nervously.

"Good, good, don't stand there, have a seat" Marcus ordered via his tone of voice.

Seating quickly and sinking down well below eye level to Marcus, I placed my envelope with cash on the desk within reach of his hands. He motioned to the small pale guy, who got up and snatched the envelope and counted the money; with a small nod he indicated to Marcus it was all there.

Marcus looked at me kind of smugly and said, "I like you man. As soon as you know something needs correcting, you follow thru right away. Yep, I do like smart men. But don't ever let this happen again. I had to get with my boss to cut you some slack since you always have been a regular and upfront dude. I didn't want Zippy over here to cut your balls off and feed them to your family" As he said that he looked over to the small guy who grinned broadly which highlighted a deep scar over his lip and some teeth missing.

"Are we clear man?" Marcus inquired.

"Clear as rain Marcus" I answered weakly.

Then with a waving motion of his free hand, Marcus gave me the get out signal. The scrawny red haired guy got up to close the door behind me. Boy was I glad to leave that room and bar and head straight home. On the drive I was convincing myself verbally that this was all she wrote, I was done; going straight, you name it; I was saying all the right things in order to stop this addiction.

My resolve lasted all of two weeks, after that the rush I needed took over and I was back to betting, although I dropped down to a maximum of $200. Forgotten was the dire warning I had gotten earlier, I upped the ante when the wins came in and I was riding high again. Then as before Marcus called with a sure winner, another lock. This was a boxing match, something I normally don't bet on so I hesitated while I reviewed my situation. If this was another minimum 5K bet, I probably could cover it with what I had accumulated.

I told Marcus I was in for the minimum which he confirmed, but the number was never stated; before I could confirm we were talking 5K, Marcus had hung up. All in all I was sure I was going to be Ok, I was confidant of Marcus's assurances.

Monday afternoon, Marcus called my office to tell me that our pick had been knocked out and I would have to pay up. I told him I would bring the 5K by tomorrow, the phone went quiet and then a harsh breath came across.

"You fuck! The bet was 20K and I need it by tonight!" Marcus fumed into the phone.

Stunned, I did not know how to respond; I had been duped into the new minimum and never saw this coming from left field.

"Marcus, I only agreed to the minimum like last time, I only have 5K," I whispered into the phone.

"You stupid son of a bitch, this bet was 20K minimum and you better have it or else!" Marcus spewed over the line.

"I...I ... can get it by the end of the week" I stuttered.

"You get it tonight!" Marcus roared back. The phone call stopped with a slam down.

Shaking like a leaf, I left the office early and went to the closest watering hole to have a few doubles and try to think this through. There was no way I had this money in such short notice. I would have to take a 2nd mortgage, borrow from my folks or even the in laws.

Even if I sold my car, I would still be short. I couldn't down the whiskeys fast enough as I sat and sat trying to make a solution out of thin air. No way could I come up with the cash without my wife's knowledge, something I have been avoiding during this whole episode.

I left the bar before I was too wasted and headed to a secluded park that I knew, to work thru this again. Losing track of time, I finally drove to the house and arrived pretty late, after 10. I had ignored all my wife's calls while out; there had been at least a dozen, most of them coming in the last half hour.

Pulling into the drive I almost didn't notice the Escalante parked just beyond my drive; I briefly thought the neighbors had company.

Almost at the front door, the door opened and my wife stood there with a crestfallen look about her and also one of fear.

"What's the matter honey is something wrong with your parents?" I asked.

She peered over her shoulder to something in the house and as I entered I could see what or who it was. On my recliner sat the scrawny pasty white little guy from Marcus's office, Zippy. Standing next to him was a non human mammoth, a man with no neck and a bald head who had to be over 6'6 and 300 pounds. Both my wife, who had turned back in when I entered the house, and daughter sat on the sofa, obviously frightened beyond reason.

My first instinct was to run, but my legs were frozen plus I could not leave my family. My second instinct was to get them out of there ASAP.

"Listen, whatever we talk about, my family does not need to be here, let them go" I commanded with a weak tone.

"Shut up you douche bag, snarled out the little man I do the talking here and they stay for now. Where the fuck is our money? You better have it"

"I don't have it. I can get it tomorrow at the bank" I lied.

Before pasty could reply my wife asked "What money. What is this man talking about?"

As I turned to look at her, the scrawny guy retorted "The money he fucking owes us, the loser. We want all the $23,000 now"

"What, I exclaimed. Marcus said it was $20,000, what are you talking about?"

"Collection fee's piss ant. You don't think our services don't have expenses, do you moron?" Red Hair hissed.

The hulking giant had moved behind the sofa where my wife and daughter sat and started cracking his knuckles quite loudly; enough to keep the fearful look on my family's faces.

The little man started to squirm on my recliner; a funny sight even under the circumstances, he looked like a kid in a big boy chair. There was a dreadful silence for what seemed like a long time but wasn't.

"Well, shithead, what's it gonna be" he quipped.

"I can't pay tonight, I weakly emitted out, but I can pay it by noon tomorrow"

"Noon is no good, Red hair said, but you got till 2 and it's now $25,000"

"Ok, Ok I agreed, you'll have it" I was just desperately hoping they would leave and not hurt anyone.

Little man got out of the chair and he and hulk slowly swaggered to the door without a care in the world. As soon as they were outside, I turned and told my wife and daughter to trust me and throw some clothes and stuff together, enough to tide them over for a few days, they were leaving town. My wife wanted to talk and get answers, I just told her to hurry up and I was going next door. Peering out to see if the Cadillac had left, I saw that it had, and I headed next door to my neighbors house.

Billy, my neighbor was a patrol cop; I figured if anyone would know what to do it would be him. I was too scared to wait; even though the hour was late I had to get help. Billy answered the door still in uniform, just coming off shift. I told him I needed his help.

Over coffee I told Billy the whole story, of course leaving out how long I actually gambled, but I certainly left him the impression that these were hardened criminals who should be stopped. Billy agreed that I should send the family into hiding and he started making calls to other police from the info I gave him. Of course the only name I had was Marcus but I did know the hangouts and the address of where his office was.

Billy got his wife up and she agreed to drive my wife and daughter to a motel in the next town and stay with them for the night. They would await further instructions in the morning. I went back home and told my wife to go with Billy's wife and I will explain tomorrow about everything. I gave them both a kiss and told them how sorry I was this happened.

Billy made a few more calls and then I crashed on his couch from exhaustion that set in despite the adrenaline pouring thru my veins.

The phone started early, a little after 6 and it didn't stop ringing. Around 9 Billy said we needed to go downtown, not to the police station but to the FBI.

Arriving, we were ushered in to see special agent Stanford who headed up a RICO unit, or organized crime division. Also in the room was an enforcement agent from the IRS named Bentley. I had to repeat my story to the agents and they took copious notes and asked me often to repeat myself for clarity. After several hours of this we took a break, I asked Billy and the agents what I was to do because the 2pm deadline was approaching and I had made no efforts to get the cash yet.

Stanford looked at me and asked if I was up to handling a sting operation. I asked what that was and what was expected of me. Both Bentley and Stanford started telling me what they had in mind.

They knew of Marcus and the little man and even the hulk guy. They were fishing for more. Marcus's boss was someone they identified as Rubio. This is the guy they wanted, they had some evidence of racketeering and money laundering but not enough to convict. The best charges could be brought by the IRS for tax evasion, but they would have to catch them in the act. That is where I was to come in. They would furnish funds for my debt if I could set up a meet with Rubio and Marcus and have them receive my $25,000 cash. That would mean a wire but as soon as I left, they would come in with force and make the arrest.

I had misgivings from the onset of their request. I didn't know Rubio from Adam, how was I going to convince Marcus to have him in our meeting. I was questioning all the things that could go wrong and how safe was I going to be. The only thing I liked was them putting the money up, because honestly there was no way I could at this point.

I asked about the safety of my family; they said as long as they were hiding it would be alright, they did not offer any protective custody or any other kind of help.

With no choices left open to me, I agreed to the sting. They outfitted my shoe with a microphone; all I would have to do is cross my legs and make sure the shoe was up off the floor. Most of the equipment I would use would be in the shoe, making it more foolproof from inspection if they felt inclined to frisk me.

Another agent came in with a small duffel bag containing the money which was also marked and ink packed so it could be traced. All that was left was to call and try to get this Rubio guy in on the play. It was now slightly after noon.

I called Marcus's number and got the little guy, I could tell now by his voice, and asked for Marcus. He put me on hold and we waited and waited, finally the voice on the other end.

"You got my money?" Marcus snarled into the line.

"Yes I do, I replied, but I have some questions and I want an assurance that this won't happen again. If something happens to my family we are done"

"Who the fuck are you to make demands, you little shit, Marcus screamed. I tell you to jump and you don't get to ask how high"

"Just wait a second, I replied. I never knew you were going to jump the minimum to that level, and now you're tacking on another 5K, I need to know how to avoid that in the future. I need to talk to your boss, if you have one"

Dead silence on the other end which told me of brewing anger, before Marcus came back on.

"What makes you think I'm not in charge?" inquired Marcus.

"I have no idea if you have a boss or not, but your attitude tells me you don't have final say, if you did you would cut me some slack" I gambled with those comments.

"What do you have in mind?" questioned Marcus.

Taking a deep breath I answered, "Look, when your goons came to my house last night it not only scared my family to death, I now have to explain my lies to my wife. It cost me big time and for that I just want a guarantee from a boss that there will never be another misunderstanding like this again. I will do everything I can not to go thru that again"

I was hoping my spin was making an impression and not going to crater. I waited for a reply that was long in coming.