The Bet by Max Monroe

Tuesday, March 13th

Jude

Two kids race past me on scooters, yelling riotously, and I lean deeper into the brick column at my back to avoid getting skimmed by their lanky limbs.

“Don’t be a little shit, Hunter!” one of them yells to the other, earning the ire of the school administrator at the top of the stairs.

“Excuse me, Byron Hawthorn! Don’t make me call your mother.”

I laugh quietly and look back down at my phone to check the time. It’s two minutes past six, and Lexi should be out here any minute. I briefly click through my call log, just to make sure I didn’t miss one from anyone, and then do the same in my messages. Both come up empty, and I brush aside the bothersome notion that there’s anything wrong with that.

I don’t actually spend that much time on my phone when I’m off the clock, and often with my brothers, I’m not the first one to start a message thread. I have a couple buddies I occasionally get beers with, but for the most part, I spend a lot of my time alone. Traveling the country to different club openings, relaxing in my downtime, and spending time with my family have always been my priorities. Well, all that, along with the occasional hookup, of course.

So, it really doesn’t make any sense at all why I feel this way—expectant. I shake my head to clear all the weird thoughts and tuck my phone back into my pocket where it belongs.

My niece will be out soon, and her smart-as-a-whip mind will give me more than enough to concentrate on. She’s normally out by now, but I’m not in a rush. Even at thirty-six years old, being outside of an elementary school like this brings waves of nostalgia crashing over me.

It’s the same dynamics, the same principal at the door with her keys and walkie-talkie, and the same unadulterated joy of childhood. I like getting a little taste of it occasionally. It reminds me not to take life so seriously and to just enjoy the ride. Time truly flies, whether you’re having fun or not. So, I prefer to have it.

“Hi, Uncle Jude,” Lexi greets without preamble, and I spin around to greet her in her position directly behind me.

“Hey-o, Lexinator. How’s it hanging?” I take her backpack and sling it over my shoulder.

Lexi’s eyebrows draw together as she smirks. “This is another one of those weird things you say that I don’t understand, isn’t it, Uncle Jude?”

I laugh. My niece is the smartest person I know, but she’s pretty damn funny too. No one straight-talks me quite as fiercely as she does, and I have to admit, it makes me enjoy the time we spend together even more.

“Yes, I guess it is. How was Mathletes practice? Did you ace everything?”

“Of course. I’m an expert in math.”

I laugh again. Damn, I love how her brain works. She never even considers belittling herself for the sake of others, and in today’s world, I feel like that’s a godsend for a little girl. So many societal constraints and voices would tell her to be humble or not to brag, but I’m fucking here for it.

I hope she keeps it up until the day I die and beyond.

“Damn straight, girlfriend. Most of us wish we could do only half the stuff you can.”

“I could teach you.”

I smile. “I bet you could, baby girl. Probably not without a lot of frustration, though. Your dear uncle Jude excels much more at other things.”

“Like chasing tail?”

I cough on my saliva, choking around it while I try to find some air. “Where did you hear that?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know what it means, but Uncle Remy and Uncle Flynn talk about it all the time.”

“They do, do they?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“What else do those bast—brothers of mine have to say?”

“Not much else about you. They say Uncle Ty is a serial polygamist. Which I learned about on TV, but I’m not really sure how it relates to Uncle Ty unless he’s got wives I don’t know about.”

I nearly snort. “Does your mom know you’ve heard Uncle Rem and Uncle Flynn talking about this stuff?”

Lexi shrugs. “It hasn’t come up.”

I smirk. Oh man. Sounds like Jude is about to be the favorite brother pretty soon.

“Well, no matter what Rem and Flynn say, everyone has the right to be whatever kind of person they want to be. Especially since those two don’t have a whole lot of room to talk.”

Lexi sighs. “Uncle Flynn doesn’t talk that much anyway.”

I laugh. “No, you’re right. He doesn’t. And that’s fine too.”

“Okay.”

I nod, first to her and then to myself. I’m not an expert in childcare, but I think I do all right with my niece. And as a bonus, living the life I do, I get to take her to dinner, have a good time without worrying too much about teaching her life lessons and shit, and then drop her off with her parents so I can go home to peace and quiet. It’s pretty much the perfect arrangement, being an uncle.

Now I just have to plan a strategy to secure the favorite uncle position, effectively robbing it from Remy.

“Where do you want to eat, kiddo? Somewhere casual or fancy?”

Lexi ponders for a moment, answering, “Fancy. We deserve to treat ourselves every once in a while.”

“Hell yes, we do,” I agree, succinctly considering our options while looking up and down the block from Lexi’s school. We’re Uptown already, but that’s no big deal. We can easily take a cab or ride the subway if we need to.

“Do you feel like Italian or a nice juicy steak?” I ask in an effort to narrow it down.

“Spaghetti,” she says excitedly. “Definitely spaghetti.”

This kid could eat spaghetti every day for the rest of her life and still not have enough spaghetti.

“Mm-hmm,” I hum. “I had a feeling.” Reaching out and wrapping my forearm around her shoulders, I guide her to the left and head straight for the subway station on the next block. “Little Italy, it is, then.”

Lexi smiles, counting off the buildings as we walk and giving me a tally at the end of the block while we wait to cross the street. “There are fifteen buildings between this side of the street and the other. Typically, a city block consists of somewhere around twenty or twenty-five buildings, but since my school is a part of this one, it’s fewer.”

I nod. “That makes sense.”

“How many buildings are on your block?”

I have to laugh. “You know, kiddo, I’ve never checked.”

“You should.”

“You’re right,” I agree, ushering her in front of me and holding on to both shoulders as we pass through a large crowd of people cluttering the entire sidewalk. “Or maybe next time you’re over, you can count them for me.”

She nods. “When’s the next time I’ll be over?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll check with your parents.”

“Will it be soon?”

“I’ll make sure it is,” I say confidently. The thing is, I know, for Lexi, that this question in her mind won’t just disappear. It’ll be the first thing she asks me about the next time she sees me, and at least part of the thoughts she has daily. With the way her extraordinary brain works, it’s not acceptable for a question to go unanswered forever.

Several years ago, Winnie revealed to the family that Lex had been diagnosed as high-functioning on the autism spectrum. I know it was hard for my sister at first, but none of us were all that surprised. Lexi has always been special. She isn’t your average kid—she’s mountains above it. And her magnificent mind is something to be marveled and cherished. Revered by everyone around her.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I remove one hand from my niece’s shoulders to dig it out. But almost immediately, a knot of anticipation dissolves when I see that it’s Ty.

Maybe I’m not so cool with questions going unanswered forever either.

As quickly as the thought comes, I shake it off and tuck my phone back into my pocket. As we descend the stairs into the subway, focusing on Lexi takes priority, and my shithead smarty-pants professor brother can wait.

Pasta and fresh bread abound on our table at Prima, one of my most frequented restaurants in Little Italy. It’s upscale without being pretentious, and as a bonus, my brother-in-law and sister know the chef.

Lexi’s eating can sometimes be picky, so having someone who understands at the helm in the kitchen really is invaluable.

She digs into her perfectly plated spaghetti with enthusiasm, twirling the strands around her fork and practically unhinging her jaw to get the large bites inside. One of the many reasons that I love hanging out with my niece so much is that she always makes me smile.

I peek briefly again at my phone, just to check and see if there have been any missed texts or calls, and then slide it back into my pocket and pick up my fork again. I’ve got a slice of chicken Parmesan halfway into my mouth when Lexi takes a break from scarfing to speak.

“You’re looking at your phone a lot today,” she muses, just as my chicken hits a spot in my throat that makes me choke.

I hack my way through the discomfort until I get a handle on it, dabbing my mouth with my napkin and setting my fork on my plate to ask, “Excuse me?”

“You’ve looked at your phone a lot today,” she repeats slowly, as if I’m not fluent in English or something.

My eyebrows draw together, a little defensive. I mean, I haven’t looked at it that much. Have I? “Why would you say that?”

“Because, on average, you look at your phone five times a night when we’re together, and so far tonight, you’ve looked at it fifteen times.”

“Fifteen?” I question with a shake of my head. “That can’t be right.”

She eyes me earnestly, and I immediately shake my head. C’mon, Jude, who do you think you’re talking to? You can’t snow Lexi on the facts.

My chest burns with unease at having completely lost my normal indifference, and as it’s not something I’m used to, I don’t like the feeling.

I suppose I could ask myself why I’m waiting so eagerly to hear from Sophie Sage, but being that I’m here with my niece and the thoughts associated with Sophie are anything but appropriate in mixed company, that doesn’t seem like a good idea at all. My only other option, of course, is to deflect. Thankfully, executing an old swerve and strike on one of my brothers is much easier. It’s like second nature, to be honest.

“Yeah, but I bet your uncle Remy looks at his phone way more when he’s with you.”

He’s a day trader, for fuck’s sake. He has to keep up with stocks and shit.

Lexi shakes her head, and I swear, if I didn’t know her better, I’d think she was smirking and mocking me. As it is, I know better. Still, the look stings. “Uncle Remy doesn’t get on his phone at all when I’m with him.”

“Not at all?” I ask disbelievingly.

She nods. “Only to call my mom or dad when he’s bringing me home or they’re picking me up.”

Well, hell.No wonder the suck-up is the goddamn favorite uncle.

Determined, I resolve to dispense with the phone shit for the rest of the night.

If only getting rid of the nagging need to hear from Sophie were that easy.