Harry looked through the playing cards in his hand and glanced at the table. He could win this. He had been on a losing streak it was true, but here he was with a full house in his cards. He got excited at the possibility of a high win, but tried to conceal it from the other players at the table. Glancing around at their expressions they were all cool, collected and calm.
His head span with alcohol as he looked at the blurry pile of chips in the middle of the table and then down at his pitiful pile. Perhaps the last couple of shots had been a mistake.
"Harry, dont you think you should bow out," his friend Charlie whispered in his ear with a look of concern at his glazed eyes. "Aren't you already behind on your rent? Your housemates said they would kick you out if-"
"Shut up Charlie," he hissed angrily and Charlie sighed looking down at his own cards. Why did he have to remind him of those stupid housemates of his. Yeah ok he was a bit behind on rent and didn't have a job right now. But that's why he was gambling, he would get enough for at least two months rent plus extra beer money, as long as he played his cards right.
"I'm folding, sorry guys. You play too high stakes for me," Charlie said standing up. "Careful Harry, you know Melissa won't have you on our sofa again."
"Yeah yeah, don't worry about it. I'm good," he said throwing a few chips into play.
Charlie left with a last desperate plea, and Harry was left with three other players. One more folded and as the stakes got higher the other folded too, leaving only him and Benjamin
Benjamin was cool and smug having won a sizeable chunk of money already that night, he surveyed Harry's tipsy state with a lofty amusement that annoyed him.
"You really want to keep going Harry? You barely have enough to go another round," he said, his voice full of a mocking derision.
"Sounds like you want me to fold. Haven't got the cards this time old man?"
Benjamin frowned at the insult but his mouth curled up in amusement. He was not old, perhaps mid thirties with a slight silver speckling in his dark brown hair, a stern chisled face with steely dark eyes that Harry had been trying to read all night. He was probably fitter than Harry too, not that he wasn't fit, he had been on the university swim team after all, but if Benjamin were to take off his jacket his muscular arms would be clearly evident through his shirt.
Harry thought they were probably about the same height, perhaps Benjamin was a touch taller, but Harry was a thinner build so would appear smaller. His black hair always making him look paler than he was, and at twenty four he was much younger than Benjamin. They hadn't met before this party and now here they were, head to head. He didn't even know who invited this much older man to a party of twenty somethings. He took another swig of his jack and coke, that was a lot more jack than coke.
"Aren't you a fiesty one. Well then Harry, I raise you hmm, £400? I believe that is you spent? You give up?"
Harry glared, he knew he only had £320 left.
"What do you want? I can give you something to make up the rest."
"What could a soon to be penniless kid like you give me?" He laughed and Harry scowled.
"I dunno, there must be something you want."
Benjamin surveyed him with curiosity and then said "a day. A day where you are my personal assistant. To do whatever I want. Deal?"
This seemed a bit of a weird request, but it wasn't more money that he didn't have, and besides he wouldn't lose anyway. He agreed, and scrawled out on a piece of paper his name, number and address.
It was time to reveal his cards, a full house. The other man at the table made noises of surprise, impressed. He gave a smug look to Benjamin who had his eyebrows raised.
"Very well done," he said.
"Thank you, I'll be taking-"
"But not quite good enough."
Benjamin placed a straight flush on the table and Harry's stomach jolted. What had he done? He had lost everything.
Benjamin scooped up the chips and grinned.
"Pleasure playing with you Harry. I'll see you soon."
Harry sat back in his chair looking at the empty table in sick horror. What had he done?
*
It was all down hill from that night for Harry. When his housemates found out he had spent every penny he owned at a poker table they screamed at him. Called him a drunk, a pathetic addict, and demanded he leave. They were never close friends so it was hardly a surprise but he still felt shaky as he left the house with nowhere to go, and a large backpack and a bin bag all he had to show for possessions.
He rang around friends but each one either wasn't able to put him up or wouldn't. Even Charlie, his supposed best friend said that the last time his girlfriend had almost broken up with him because of Harry. He couldn't risk his relationship again.
"I'll book you a motel tonight or something, but I can't pay for any more than that. You need to pay for your own mistakes or you'll just keep making them."
He tried to sound grateful but he was annoyed by the chastising of his friend. He was treating him like a child.
However 24 hours later when he had checked out of the motel and was facing his first night living rough, he realised quite how foolish he had been. He had walked out on his family, got drunk almost every night and pissed off every friend he had. He thought he would always have Charlie, but even he had eventually turned his back. He shivered. The October night was cold, and dark. He headed into town and found a shop front that was sheltered from the cold wind a little. He shrugged off his backpack and lay on it like a pillow. But he didn't think he would sleep.
The cold concrete seeped through the jeans at his thigh and began to numb him with cold. His shivering was more obvious now, his teeth chattered. He rummaged through his bag to find his largest hoodie and quickly unzipped his coat, put it on over the jumper he had already been wearing and zipped the coat back up. It was hours of numb miserable cold until he eventually drifted off to sleep.
The reality of his situation dawned on him the next day when he realised he was probably going to have to beg for money. He felt sick at the idea, the thought of sinking so low that he had to sit on street corners like some pathetic junkie. But he had been searching for a job long before he was homeless without any hope. And now his stomach was growling and he had eaten the last of the food he had stolen from his housemates cupboards last night. He looked at his phone screen to find it dead and lifeless. A weird feeling that this was now just a useless brick to him until he was able to have a home to charge it at. He could try selling it to a pawn shop?
He took it to a vendor who, giving him a look up and down, offered £40 cash.
"It's worth more than that!" He complained but the shop keeper shrugged.
"That's the offer. Take it or leave it."
Begrudgingly Harry took the offer and then spent most of the money on a sleeping bag. It felt reckless to use all the money and yet he couldn't face another night like the last one.
Feeling so ashamed he could cry he found a busy spot in the town centre and sat cross legged on the street placing a cap in front of him. He felt like an idiot. He thought if he sat like this long enough then someone would throw some money into the hat.
An hour passed and nothing. He realised that sat scowling with his arms crossed wasn't getting him anywhere. He attempted to make eye contact with passers by but it was as if he was completely invisible. He could sprout tentacles from his armpits and people would probably still go about their business, avoiding the sad homeless guy sat on the floor... with tentacle pits.
