I’ve spent most of my life cleaning up Cody’s messes.
That’s what older brothers do—or at least, that’s what I tell myself every time I’m dragged into another one of his disasters.
Every Vegas trip we take is supposed to be business—a chance to check on hotel clients and make sure their pool supply orders are running smoothly.
But for Cody, Vegas is a playground.
He never treats it like work.
Every trip is a fresh opportunity to gamble away money he doesn’t have, convinced that the next bet will be the one that turns everything around.
It always starts with the same promise: “Just one bet, Jared. One more, and I’ll stop.”
Spoiler: he never does. And that’s how a gambling addiction works.
What makes it worse is how Cody plays.
When he wins, he’s a genius. When he loses, it’s never his fault—the cards were bad, the wheel was off, the dealer was shady.
And when things go south? He looks to me to clean it up. Five years of chasing Cody through casinos, covering his debts, and dragging him back to the hotel before things spiral.
But this trip? This trip was different.
After years of begging him to recognize his addiction, I was through.
This trip, I was going to gamble something infinitely more valuable than money.
I was gambling on one thing that even I didn’t realize I had… until it showed up.
And that’s all it took for the miracle that was about to happen.
The Routine Gamble
We’re not even fully checked in when Cody is halfway out the door, wallet in hand and that familiar grin plastered across his face.
“I’m just gonna stretch my legs,” he says over his shoulder.
“Two hours. A hundred bucks. That’s the limit,” I call after him.
He waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.” And with that, he’s gone.
The door clicks shut, and instead of groaning, I smile—a small, knowing smile.
The kind you wear when you’ve finally decided to stop cleaning up someone else’s mess.
I settle onto the couch in the suite, figuring I’ve got a little time before Cody inevitably blows his budget. I flip through emails on my laptop, half-watching TV as the minutes tick by. Two hours pass, then three. Still no call.
That’s when I noticed something interesting.
The hotel’s Wi-Fi makes streaming behave strangely.
The football game on Amazon Prime is playing on two different TVs—one in my bedroom, and one in the suite’s living room.
But there’s a small delay. The broadcast in my room runs a few seconds ahead of the one in the living room.
A light bulb flicks on in my head. Cody is always insisting we bet on things—roulette spins, blackjack hands, football plays.
What if, for once, I had an edge?
The idea is so simple, so stupid, it’s perfect.
If Cody wants to gamble, I’ll give him the perfect game to lose.
Raising the Stakes
I find Cody at the blackjack table, grinning like a fool, waving a couple of chips in the air.
“I’m up!” he says with pride like this is the first time it’s ever happened.
“How much?”
“Twenty bucks! Not bad, huh?”
“Yeah, great,” I say dryly. “Now let’s go before you lose it.”
“Come on, just a little longer.”
I know better than to argue, so I motion toward the exit. He’ll drag his feet, but he knows I’ll drag him out if I have to.
On the way out, he spots the roulette table, and the gleam returns to his eyes.
“One more bet,” he says. “Red or black? Your call.”
Normally, I’d refuse. But tonight, I’ve got other plans.
“Red,” I say casually.
He slaps his chips down, and we both watch the wheel spin. When the ball lands on black, Cody slams his fist on the table.
“Damn it! I knew I should’ve gone with black!”
I shrug. “Then you should’ve picked black.”
He mutters something under his breath, sulking all the way back to the suite. I unlock the door, and as he slumps onto the couch, I gesture toward the TV.
“Game’s on. Feel like making it interesting?”
Cody grins. That’s all the invitation he needs.
The Perfect Trap
We sit down in the suite, Cody on the couch and me standing near the open bedroom door, where I can glance between both TVs.
His usual bravado is back, and I’m ready to let him dig his own hole.
“Alright,” Cody says, cracking his knuckles. “Five bucks says the Bengals don’t get a first down.”
I glance at the bedroom TV and see the Bengals complete a quick pass. “You’re on.”
He leans forward as the same play unfolds on the living room TV. His jaw drops when the first down is confirmed.
“No way! That’s a fluke.”
“Double or nothing?” I ask with just the right amount of innocence.
“You’re damn right. Next play’s a run.”
I check the bedroom TV. It’s a run. “Ten bucks it’s a run.”
Sure enough, the same play unfolds on the living room TV. Cody curses under his breath.
“This is ridiculous!” he shouts. “One more. Double or nothing again.”
I keep the bets going, letting him win just enough to stay hooked, only to pull it all away when he’s on the verge of a comeback.
The frustration on his face grows with every lost bet. I savor it quietly, letting him squirm.
Finally, he slams his hand down. “Alright, all or nothing,” he says. “If I win, you owe me everything from tonight—and the $120 from the casino.”
“And if I win?” I ask, knowing full well I’ve got him cornered.
“If you win…” Cody hesitates. “I quit gambling. For good.”
“Deal.”
I glance at the bedroom TV for the final play—but just as the game gets good, the screen glitches and kicks me out, leaving only a log-in prompt.
The Real Cost
My heart sinks. The safety net is gone, and now it’s a fair bet—just like Cody’s been begging for.
Cody grins, sensing blood in the water. “What’s your call?”
I take a long, deliberate breath, pretending to weigh my options.
“Pass,” I say coolly.
The Bengals snap the ball.
The quarterback fakes a handoff and throws into the end zone. Touchdown.
Cody groans, collapsing back onto the couch. “This… this is the dumbest night of my life.”
“Well, you know the deal,” I say with a satisfied nod. “No more gambling.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” Cody mutters.
But I’ve heard that tone before—half-hearted, the kind of promise that melts away the minute temptation comes knocking.
I lean back, pretending to let it go.
But I know Cody too well. If I want this promise to stick, I need something more.
“Alright,” I say casually. “Before you call it a night, let’s settle up.”
“Settle up?”
I pull out my phone and open a notes app I prepared earlier—a neat little list. “Here,” I say, passing it over.
Cody blinks, confused.
Then his confusion turns to outrage. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a running total of everything you’ve borrowed from me on these trips. Snacks, drinks, cab fares, gambling loans. With interest.” I grin. “It’s time to settle your debt.”
He stares at the list, eyes wide.
“You’re joking.”
“Vegas isn’t cheap, little brother.”
His face reddens as he scrolls through the list, each petty expense laid out with painful precision.
“You always told me gambling’s about keeping score,” I say with a shrug. “Just following your lead.”
Cody glares, frustration simmering. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s fair,” I say, voice calm but firm. “You can’t walk away from your debts, right? Isn’t that what you always say?”
He grits his teeth, knowing I’ve trapped him with his own logic.
“Fine,” he mutters. “How do you want me to pay it back?”
“Oh, I don’t need the cash,” I say, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “Just keep your promise.”
For once, I feel something I rarely get with Cody—satisfaction.
Whether he sticks to the deal or not, tonight he knows what it feels like to lose control.
I didn’t just survive this trip. I won.