The Player, The Thief and The Broken Heart - Chapter Twenty-Two - Steve's Luck Running Out

In a much smaller hotel room twelve floors down from Yushenko's office, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, talking on the phone to a customer service manager at his bank branch back home. After an hour of explaining how there was no way his accounts should be frozen and then pleading for a line of credit, he lost his patience. "Come on, not even a measly thousand bucks? This is bullshit! I should have more than a hundred grand in there!"

He slammed down the phone. He took another card out of his wallet, for yet another bank, and called the toll-free number on it. This was the last one and he feared it would be a repeat of the three he'd spoken to already. At that moment a call came through on his cell phone, so he hung up the hotel phone and answered it.

Finally his dad was getting back to him after a text so vague it would take a professional linguist to decipher. "Hi dad. What did you mean by this being a learning opportunity? I learned I got fucked over royally because I failed to kiss the right person's ass, is that what you were intending?"

He tried not to sigh as he listened to his dad's droning about how everything happens for a reason and to roll with it, knowing the universe would give back as soon as he'd reaped the karmic seeds he'd sown. True, he'd almost hooked up with Jeannie again. That was why he needed more money––so he could stay in Vegas long enough to reel her in. There was no way he could go back to New York without trying for her. There was nothing there for him anymore anyway.

Steve stretched out on his back, slung his feet up onto the mattress and kicked off his shoes. "It wasn't my fault, dad! I'm not being paranoid––read the damn file!"

At the sound of a click followed by a dial tone, Steve hung up and tossed his phone across the room. He still had just enough restraint not to hurl the thing through the goddamned window. Cheap asshole. He'd saved his old man more than two hundred thousand dollars when the stock market was tanking and this was his thanks. Not even willing to front him a lousy two or three grand. In the morning he'd probably have to go to some employment agency and hope there were still jobs available in Vegas besides dealing cards or slinging cheap draft. Something paying close to what he was used to getting paid.