“You just moved in next door, right?”

I look up from my mail at a rail-thin old hick in a golf shirt.

“Umm, I just moved into 207.”

“Yeah, that’s next door. I’m 206. Larry.” He thrusts his hand at me. I take it awkwardly and pump it once, too hard. It’s been months since I’ve shaken someone’s hand.

“Xander. Good to meet you.”

“Yeah. I’m glad those Mexicans moved out. They had like twelve kids in that two-bedroom.”

“Oh. Wow. Well, it’s just my brother and I.”

“Oh, that’s your brother?” Larry leans to one side and spits into the parking lot. “I thought you guys might be gay or something.”

“No, that’s my brother.”

“So whaddya do, Xander?”

“I write pages for websites.”

“Oh, alright. I don’t really know what that means, but I guess a lot of jobs are like that these days. Computer shit. I’m in landscaping. Can you believe that? Eighty-four years old, and still working in the fucking hot sun.”

I look up the stairs at my apartment. So close.

Back at Larry. Just be polite for a few more seconds and he’ll think I’m a nice guy.

“Wow, yeah, that’s hard work.”

“You bet your ass it’s hard work, especially putting up with all these illegals. They don’t show up half the time and then they slack off if they do bother showing up.”

“Yeah, that must be tough.”

Larry nods and looks me over. I can’t tell if he likes what he sees.

“Well, good to meet you. Nice to know I’ll have good neighbors for once.”

Finally, he turns and shuffles toward the stairs. I pretend to be very interested in today’s credit card offers until I hear his door close.

***

A few months pass, and Larry still hasn’t gotten the hint. Either he’s one of those people who can’t tell when someone doesn’t want to talk or he’s just that lonely.

At least I’m able to avoid him most of the time. But there’s only so far you can run when you live next door to someone.

He bangs on my door one weekday afternoon. I sigh and roll my eyes when I see him through the peephole.

“Who is it?” Dustin calls from his place on the couch.

That old bastard who won’t leave me alone.

“It’s the neighbor.”

I open the door and Larry just stands there, squinting at me.

“How’d you like to go to the casino?”

“Umm… well, I don’t really have any money to gamble with.”

“I’ll give you some money. I’ll give you a hundred bucks. All you gotta do is drive me there and back.”

I shrug. “Yeah, okay. I don’t have much work today, so that’s fine with me.”

“Great. When are you gonna be ready to go?”

“We can go now. Just let me get my keys.”

I close the door lest the mosquitos get in and head toward my room.

“You’re going to the casino?”

“Just for a few hours.”

“Don’t lose the money gambling.”

“C’mon, bro. Would I do something stupid like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. Well, I won’t. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Okay. No gambling. Or drinking.”

“Sure.”

I grab my stuff and meet Larry in the parking lot.

“I really appreciate this, Xander.”

Not like I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.

“Sure. No problem.” 

We get into my little hatchback and set off.

“Man, I’ve been dying to go do some gambling. My truck’s been out of commission for two weeks now ‘cause the sombitch working on it is waiting to get a new engine.”

“Wow, it needs a whole new engine? That must be expensive.”

“Hell yeah, costin’ me like three thousand dollars.”

“Oh, that’s a lot. So… what kind of truck is it?”

An hour of this til we reach the casino.

“It’s a Chevy Colorado. Always had me a Chevy. Or a GM. Since I was a kid.”

“Oh, cool. I like those old trucks.”

“Yeah? Most kids your age don’t like old cars.”

“I just like how the old trucks look.”

“Me, too. And the new ones got too much techy stuff in it for me. That infotainment shit in my boy’s truck… I can’t figure that shit out.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward

silence.

“So you’re in landscaping, huh?”

“Yeah, off and on. I can’t work no full-time hours no more. I’m too fuckin’ old.”

“Oh. Okay. So… how long have you been in landscaping?”

“Shit, I been doing this 30 years now. Before that, I was a airplane mechanic for 30 years.”

“What sort of planes did you work on?”

Larry rambles on about proper maintenance procedures for different types of planes. I drive and occasionally make agreeable noises.

Finally, we reach the outskirts of Immokalee. It’s a shitty, rundown little town built to house the poor Hispanics who work in the nearby tomato fields and orange groves. Without the casino, no one else would ever come here. All the street signs are in Spanish and there aren’t any white people in sight. It’s almost like being in another country.

“Interesting place,” I say. “I grew up in Southwest Florida, but I don’t know that I’ve ever actually been here.”

“It’s a fuckin’ shithole, is what it is. ‘Cept the casino.”

“It’s a nice casino? I’ve heard a lot of the Native American casinos are a bit run-down, too.”

“Well, a lot of them Indian casinos are shitty, but they redid this one a few years back. Turn in here.”

I pull into the parking lot and drive past the valet parking zone. The casino looks like a big 3-star hotel with a newish coat of beige paint.

The parking lot is massive and mostly empty. Probably crammed full during the season. Only the local degenerates will be here at noon on a muggy summer day.

Larry starts getting out of the car before I’ve even stopped. I finish parking and he jumps out. By the time I get out and lock up, he’s halfway to the casino. I’ve never seen him move that fast before. This could be interesting, in a sad, pathetic sort of way.

I hustle to catch up with him—he still hasn’t paid me yet. I’m out of breath by the time I reach the entrance a step behind him.

The casino is surprisingly quiet and the smell of cigarette smoke isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The slot machines just inside the door sound like an arcade at half-volume.

Larry power-walks to a NASCAR slot machine and takes a seat. I sit at a fishing-themed machine to one side. He inserts his player’s card and feeds the machine a hundred.

“This your lucky machine?” I say, to remind him I still exist.

“Sometimes,” he says without looking up. “Let’s see how she feels today.”

He hits the button and the virtual reels spin. He loses twenty bucks. Another spin. Another loss. Another spin. He wins five bucks. Another spin. Another loss.

“Hey, Larry.” He looks up like I just caught him jerking off. “I might want to gamble a bit myself. Could you pay me that hundred bucks?”

He hands over a hundred and returns to the machine. I get up awkwardly and watch as he loses another two spins.

“I’ll come back after a while. Are you gonna stay around here?”

“Yeah. Either here or the Chophouse.”

Must be a restaurant somewhere in the casino. Can’t be that hard to find.

“Okay. Good luck.”

Larry snorts and hits the button again.

I walk away from the slots and draw a deep breath. Can’t say I’m surprised that he’s a degenerate gambler—explains why he’s still working at eighty-four.

A little blackjack, maybe? There’s an open five-dollar table with a cute dealer. But I’m not too sure of the rules and I don’t want to embarrass myself. I’ll probably just walk around aimlessly. Maybe I’ll buy a pack of duty-free cigs and chain-smoke them. 

Dustin would give me a raft of shit if I actually gamble this hundred bucks and lose it. Five bucks on a pack of smokes is totally reasonable. Especially if I tell him I spent it on snacks.  

 Nah, I’d rather watch a degenerate gamble away every last penny they have. Pretty fucked up, but at least I won’t smoke a month off my life.

Man, I’ve really become a great person if I seek this sort of schadenfreude. 

I reach the velvet rope keeping the peasants out of the high-rollers area and turn back. Larry’s probably lost a grand by now. 

He is still sitting at the same machine, still spinning and spinning it as fast as it’ll go. It starts dinging and playing engine noises as I sit down.

“Fuck yeah! About fuckin’ time!”

Larry catches sight of me and recoils slightly. I can see him trying to remember who I am.

“Xander! Did you see that? I finally hit a fuckin’ jackpot!”

“Awesome!”

Yeah, I saw that. You hit a two-hundred dollar jackpot. And how much did you lose before you hit?

“So are you up now?”

“No, I’m down probably five hundred, but I’ll get it back.”

Can’t wait to see that.

“Yeah, if you were losing before, you’ll probably start hitting a lot of jackpots now.”

I really shouldn’t be egging him on. Though the sooner he loses his money, the sooner I can go home.

“Maybe. Sometimes it don’t work that way.”

He  feeds another hundred into the machine and taps the button. A forty dollar win. 

Damn. If he starts winning, we could be here a while. 

Larry sits up straight and slaps the button with his palm, grinning like an idiot. He must feel a winning streak coming on.

But he loses. And loses. And loses. And loses. He goes on a brutal twenty minute nosedive, vaporizing at least two grand.

I sit and watch him squirm.

Finally, he jumps out of his seat.

“Fuck this fucking shit. These motherfuckers rigged these goddam machines. I won last time so they fucking stole my money today. These fucking Indian casinos are always fucking rigged.”

Larry squares up with the slot machine, making it easier for me to hide my laughter.

“Fuck!” He kicks the machine hard enough to dent it and turns to walk away.

“C’mon, Xander. Let’s get some free food at least.”

You mean comped food. Speaking of which.

I grab his player’s card out of the machine and hustle to catch up with him.

“I think we’ll need this to get the food,” I say as I hand him the card. He takes it without a word. Hopefully, he won’t be feeling talkative for the rest of this outing. 

  We walk all the way to the back of the casino in silence. The Chophouse is a little bistro next to a cheap-looking Asian place. Guess we’re not going to one of the nice restaurants. That’s fine. I wouldn’t want to sit with Larry right now, anyway. Or ever, to be honest.

The day’s special is Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes. Larry orders two and stands off to the side of the counter with his arms crossed. I stand in his general area and doomscroll Twitter. Apparently, there was another terrorist attack in Lebanon.

Five minutes pass without a word and our orders are up. Seems suspiciously quick, but free is free.

Larry hands me both boxes. 

“I thought your brother might want one, too.”

A laser into my soul. Man, I’m an asshole.

“Thanks, Larry. I’m sure he will.”

The first sincere thing I’ve said all day. Maybe all week.

He nods and starts walking toward the entrance.

Now I want to be friendly, but I don’t really know where to start.

The only thing I can think of is ‘you’ll get ‘em next time!’ 

I don’t think this would draw a positive response. Probably better not to say anything until Larry cools down.

We get in the car and I place the food in the back seat.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Guess he’s not quite calmed down yet.

The drive home passes without a word, which suits me fine. I’ll have plenty of chances to be friendly.

Finally, we pull into our parking lot. I wonder if Dustin’s missed me. He’s probably barely noticed my absence.

“Thanks for the ride.”

Larry slams the door before I can respond.

I get out of the car and enter my apartment. Dustin glances over from the couch and jumps up when he sees the boxes in my arms.

“Is that food?”

“Nice to see you, too.” 

“Welcome back. Is that food?”

“Yeah. I guess I’ll let you have one.”

“Awesome. So you got the money, too? And you didn’t lose all of it?”

“Yeah, I have the money.”

“Great, ‘cause we need to pay the power bill.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dustin takes one of the boxes. “So did you have fun?”

“Not really. Although watching Larry throw away thousands of dollars and get pissed off was kinda funny.”

“You thought an old man losing thousands of bucks was funny? Bro, what’s wrong with you?”

“How much time do you have?”

***  

I guess Larry thinks we’re friends now. A few days after our casino trip, he knocks on my door again.

“Hey, Xander, how you doing?”

“Good.”

“You ever play that online poker?”

I’ve been trying to forget the thousands I lost.

“A few times, yeah.”

“Well, I want to play some of that shit, but I can’t figure out how to get an account started up.” He squints at me. “You have a few minutes?”

For free?

“Yeah. Sure.”

“That’s great. Can you come over? I got the Internet opened up, but I don’t know where to go from here.”

I can feel Dustin looking at me from his place on the couch. I bet he’s enjoying this.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Larry turns and walks the three steps to his apartment. I shoot Dustin a look. He gives me a nasty little smirk. I’ll have to get him back for that.

Larry’s apartment looks like most old people’s homes. Full of kitsch and mementos from better times. And about a hundred bottles of tequila.

 “Wow, I guess you’re a big fan of tequila.”

Larry stops and turns to survey the forest of bottles covering his dinner table and counters.

“Both my kids are. They keep giving me tequila, but I don’t hardly drink it.”

I want to ask for a couple of bottles, but I think better of it. I don’t want to feel like I owe this guy anything.

The only interesting thing in Larry’s living room is a headshot of a young man in a military uniform. Must be Larry from his days in the Air Force. Looks like a different person. Larry probably feels that way, too.

“You were in the military?”

“Yes, sir! United States Air Force. Four years. Best time of my life.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

Larry looks me over, probably suspicious I’m being a smartass.

“I got my computer set up in my bedroom,” he says after an agonizing moment.

I follow him through the living room and down the cramped hallway into his bedroom. Smell of baby powder and mothballs, old fashioned furniture, and a decade-old PC on a rolltop desk.

Larry has Internet Explorer opened to the MSN homepage. I didn’t know Internet Explorer even still existed.

“What poker site do you want to play on?’

Larry is looking at me with a confused expression on his face. He thinks there’s only one. Or maybe that they’re all the same.

“Well, what’s the best one?”

“I like USA Poker Room. Plenty of fish in both the cash games and the MTTs.”

Larry looks at me like I’m speaking in tongues. He’s going to lose a lot of money if he knows this little about poker.

“Sounds good. I’ll sign up for that one.”

I pull up the USA Poker Room sign up page and step aside for Larry to fill in his info. He slowly pecks out his email and password—which is LarryPoker123—and pauses on the username field. 

“Username? I don’t know what to put.”

He looks up at me like a little kid looking to their parent for guidance. Funny how life comes full circle.

“Do you have any nicknames?”

“When I was in the Air Force, they used to call me Iceman.”

“You could use that.” 

 He puts in his old nickname and submits the form. A list of open poker tables pops up.

“Now all you have to do is make a deposit.”

Larry looks at me expectantly.

“I’m sure you don’t want to share your financial details, so I’ll let you handle that by yourself.”

I don’t want to know his financial details. I don’t know what I’d do with them.

“Oh, sure. It can’t be that hard.”

“Well, you should be ready to go then.”

He thanks me and I return to my apartment, resisting the urge to swipe a tequila bottle on the way out the door.

***

I keep expecting Larry to ask me for a ride to the casino, but months pass and we don’t exchange more than a hello at the mailbox.

One day I find him and the single mother two doors down talking about the pandemic. Sounds like Larry is a rabid anti-vaxxer who thinks COVID is some sort of government conspiracy. What a surprise.

I try to sneak past, but Larry notices me.

“Hey Xander, how you doing?”

The lady stands there uncomfortably, clearly looking for a chance to leave. 

“Good.”

I start to unlock my door.

“So what do you think of these damn vaccinations the government is pushing on us?”

The lady mumbles a good-bye and slips into her apartment.

I sigh and turn to Larry.

“Well, I think it’s good to be cautious.”

“Cautious? There ain’t nothing to be cautious about.”

Then what is it exactly that’s already killed millions of people?

“I… disagree.”

“So you believe everything the government tells you?”

“No, not everything, but there are a lot of other sources about COVID.”

“Yeah, they’re all workin’ for the government. Or funded by the government.”

“I’m sure some of them are.”
“Some of them? More like all of ‘em.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.”

“So I guess you got the jab, then?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re a sheep, then?”

“Sure. Whatever, Larry.”

“I’m just saying. You did exactly what you was ‘sposed to.”

“Okay. Have a good day.”

I turn to go.

“Hey, take a look at this. I got something here you’re going to want to see.”

I half-turn back toward him.

“It’s a really pretty girl.”

Now he has my attention. I curse my own horniness and shuffle toward Larry. He pulls out his phone and shows me a selfie taken by a cute Asian girl in a pantsuit.

“That your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s working on an investment for me.”

Seems like a pretty informal photo to send an investor.

“Really? What kind of investment?”

“Chinese dollars. She works in currency in China.”

Oh, it’s a scam. This could be interesting.

“So you’re buying up Chinese dollars or something?”

“She has me investing in, they call it ‘futures.’ If the Chinese dollar goes up, I make a lot of money.”

“Sounds like a great investment. Where’d you meet her?”

“Online. She messaged me on Facebook.”

Yep, definitely a scam. I should probably warn Larry now.

“How much have you invested with her?”

“About ten grand, so far. I’m thinking about sending her another ten, but that’s all I got for investing.”

“Maybe you should wait and see how the first ten grand does before sending more.”

“Oh, it’s already gone up like sixty percent.”

He notices my doubtful expression.

“Here, I’ll show you.”

He pulls up a screenshot of a line chart that looks like it was made in Google Docs. The line is going up. Very convincing.

“Looks good.”

“I know, right? It’s just going up and up and up.”

Larry pats me on the back.

“Hey, you want me to give her your number? I’m sure you could use some extra money.”

“Thanks, but I really don’t have any money to invest right now. Maybe some other time.”

“Just that it seem like you really need money now. I mean, my investment’s been going up like two hundred, two hundred-fifty every day.”

I glance at my door.

“I’ll let you know if I want her number.”

Larry nods. “Well, you can suit yourself. You know where I’m at.”

“Yeah. Sure do.”

“Alright, have a good rest of your day.”

“Thanks, you too.”

***

I try my best to avoid Larry, but it’s not long before he again catches me at the mailboxes. I swear he was waiting for me.

“That Chinese dollar investment was a scam! I lost all my damn money!”

“Wow, I can’t believe that.”

“Me neither! Everything looked totally above-board!”

“What happened?”

“Well, my daughter said ‘Larry, that’s a scam.’ I thought she was full of shit, but she said ‘Try to do a video call. If it’s legit, she’ll take the call.’ And Way-Lee wouldn’t do it. And my daughter said ‘Get your money out.’ As soon as I texted Way-Lee about it, she stopped responding.”

“Unbelievable. You would think an investment in Chinese dollars would be safe. Y’know, the Chinese government is supposed to be making sure foreigners don’t get scammed.”

“The Chinese government ain’t gonna do shit! My money’s gone!”

“Fuck. What are you gonna do?”

“Well, I gotta work my ass off. At the age of eighty-four! Ain’t that fucked up?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m trying to put together a new landscaping job. A big one, for the city. I need people I can actually rely on. Maybe you could join the crew?”

“I dunno.”

“Pays eleven, maybe twelve dollars an hour.”

“It sounds like a really good opportunity, but y’know I already have full-time work. I’m pretty busy.”

“With that computer stuff? C’mon, do some real work.”

“Well, no offense, but I don’t think twelve an hour is enough.”

“I can maybe do thirteen?”

“Nah. Sorry. To stand out in the hot sun and get eaten alive by mosquitos? No thanks.”

“Well, fine. Suit yourself. But I gotta go put this job together or I’m fucked.”

He storms off before I can say anything. 

That was the last time I ever spoke to Larry.

 ***

I didn’t actually have a full-time job. I occasionally took freelance writing gigs, which quickly dried up as AIs reached critical mass. I had gotten Dustin into the same line of work, so we were totally fucked. By the time I last spoke with Larry, we were three months behind on rent and facing eviction.

Luckily, the landlords simply let us end the lease early. Seemed that they wanted to do a slapdash reno and jack the rent up $800 per month.

After crashing at our parents’ place for a couple of months, we managed to find work and get back on our feet. I hadn’t thought about Larry since moving out.

***

 The coffee’s brewing and I’m moving slowly towards consciousness. I check my phone. I have a voicemail. Probably a credit card offer.

I call and the voicemail plays. An old man starts mumbling incoherently. It takes me a moment before I realize it’s Larry.

“That’s weird,” I mumble as I delete the voicemail.

I breathe in coffee vapor and get a tiny hit of caffeine.

I should have at least said goodbye to him.

But whatever. I have better things to beat myself up about.

***

  Two months later, I received another voicemail from Larry’s number.

“This is Lisa Chalvet, I’m Larry Bonner’s daughter. Umm… Mr. Tabb, my father passed away. He willed his old truck to you. I was hoping we could meet up at the DMV and get the truck transferred to your name. Please call me back when you get a chance, thanks.”

Fuck. Larry really cared about me. Now I really feel terrible that I didn’t say goodbye. And I didn’t even return his call a few months back.

I take a deep breath and call Larry’s number. What a strange feeling.

“Mr. Tabb?”

“Hello. I just got your voicemail. Sorry to hear that Larry’s passed away.”

“Thank you. So I understand you and my father were neighbors for a while?”

“Yeah, about a year, I think.”

“Just a year? I thought it might have been longer.”

Awkward

silence.

“Mr. Tabb? Are you there?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m here.”

“I’m just a bit surprised that my dad wanted you to have that truck. With how much he loved it, I thought he might want to have it buried with him.”

“Right. Yeah, Larry and I used to talk about old trucks. We both really liked them.”

“Sure. So he named me executor of his estate. Basically, I’m the one who has to give his stuff away. Anyway, like I said in my message, I was hoping we could meet up at a DMV to transfer the truck over to you. Maybe in Bonita? There’s actually a DMV close to my office.”

“Umm… yeah. Sure. We can meet up in Bonita.”

“Great. Sorry for the short notice, but can you do tomorrow? For once, I don’t have a lunch meeting.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“Does one o’clock work?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. My schedule’s pretty open.”

“Lucky you. So the address is… actually, I don’t know the street number. It’s off 41, near the intersection with old 41. You can find the exact address online. Does that work?”

“Yeah. I’ll just Google it.”

“Great. I’ll see you there tomorrow at one o’clock?”

“Yeah. See you there.”

“Awesome. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up and stared at my phone, trying to process the events of the last few minutes. An old truck with a brand-new engine could be worth five or even ten grand. Just five grand would make a huge difference. I could pay off most of the money we owed to our old landlords.

  I can’t believe Larry would do something like this for me. I wonder what I was in his mind. A friend? A surrogate grandson? And I just considered him an annoying old man.

I don’t deserve the truck. But I can’t turn down five grand.

***

Lisa is a pretty and brusque blonde in an expensive pantsuit. Maybe a lawyer. She shows up in Lexus at fifteen past one and gets out clutching the paperwork in one hand and her phone in the other. A young Hispanic woman carefully parks the old truck nearby.

“Mr. Tabb?”

“Yeah.”

She looks me up and down like I’m an unappetizing meal that’s just been placed in front of her.

“Anyway, I’m in a bit of a rush, so can we just do the signatures, et cetera here in the parking lot?”

“Okay. I think that’ll work.”

“I had my assistant type up a bill of sale and print out the title. I don’t think I actually need to go in there with you.”

“Yeah, we can just sign everything over here.”

“Fantastic. Uh, is that your car?” she asks, pointing past me at my dirty hatchback.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We can just put everything down on the hood, if that’s alright.”

“Sure.”

We walk over to the front of the car and lay out the paperwork. Lisa jumps a little when she notices Dustin in the passenger seat. I can’t help but smile to myself.

After she recovers her cool, she signs the documents and passes me the pen. “Sorry about your father,” I say as I scribble my signature on the bill of sale.

“Thank you. It’s okay, actually. We weren’t super close.”

I sign the title and hand over the pen.

“Thanks for meeting me so soon,” I say.

“No, thank you. I’m just trying to get this executor stuff over with. I have enough on my plate already.”

“Me, too.”

We stare at each other for a moment of awkward silence.

“Well, I’m sure you want to go in there and finalize everything,” she says.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look that busy right now.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

She smiles politely and returns to her Lexus, beckoning her assistant out of the truck. The assistant gets out with the keys, looking at me with that same polite smile.

I go over and get the keys. The assistant nods and gets into the Lexus without a word. They speed off and leave me standing in front of the truck with the keys in my hand.

It’s a gold Chevy Colorado from the mid-90s. Except for the headlights, which are badly clouded, it could have just rolled off the assembly line. 

Larry took good care of it. And he passed it on to me, just some asshole who happened to live next door for a year.

I stare at the truck and try not to remember how I treated Larry. Maybe I should just sell it straightaway and excise the guilt.

Or maybe not. What if I kept it as a reminder not to be a piece of shit? I could sell the hatchback instead.