Vinny counted the cash twice before he believed it.
"One million dollars," he said, staring at the stacks of hundreds spread across his desk. "One fucking million dollars."
Jason sat across from him in the same chair he'd occupied three days ago, watching the bookie's hands shake as he handled the money. The barbershop was closed for the day, just the two of them in the back office with the sound of traffic drifting in from Mulberry Street.
"You said two thousand to one," Jason said calmly.
"Yeah, I said it. But Jesus Christ, kid, I never thought..." Vinny trailed off, shaking his head. "Wallace hitting that three at the buzzer. Sixty-five to sixty-three. Every single part of your crazy parlay hit except the exact score."
"Which means I won."
"Which means you won." Vinny started counting out stacks. "Five hundred thousand. Six hundred thousand. Seven hundred thousand."
Jason reached across and grabbed two thick stacks of hundreds from the pile. "Before you finish counting."
Vinny stopped and stared at the money in Jason's hands. "What are you doing?"
"Two hundred thousand. Like I promised." Jason pushed the stacks toward Vinny.
"You're actually giving me two hundred grand?"
"A deal's a deal."
"Why?" Vinny asked. "You could keep this. I'd never know."
"Because I'm going to need you again."
"For what?"
Jason leaned back in his chair. "I'm not betting on the rest of March Madness. Too risky. Too many variables. But there are other opportunities coming."
"What kind of opportunities?"
"The kind that require someone who can handle large amounts of money without asking too many questions."
Vinny studied Jason's face. Three days ago, this had been a seventeen-year-old kid with five hundred dollars and an impossible dream. Now he was sitting across from someone who'd just won a million dollars and was talking about future business ventures like he was planning a grocery run.
"How did you know?" Vinny asked.
"Know what?"
"All of it. The exact parlay. Wallace hitting the game winner. Everything except that one point."
Jason chose his words carefully. "I told you before. I see things other people don't see."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're going to get."
Vinny finished counting the remaining eight hundred thousand and slid it across the desk to Jason. "So what's next? You taking your winnings and running, or you got something else in mind?"
"I'm staying in Brooklyn. And yeah, I got something else in mind. You ever get into the stock market?"
"Stocks? I do some trading on the side, got connections on Wall Street. Why, you thinking about playing the market?" Vinny leaned back in his chair. "You know what's weird about you, kid? Sometimes you don't talk like a seventeen-year-old. You sound like someone who's been doing this for years."
Jason met his gaze. "What if I told you I wasn't really seventeen? What if I told you I've lived all this before?"
Vinny stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Kid, you watch too many movies."
"Maybe. But I'm serious about the stock market. I got guys who can move serious money without asking questions, if you're really serious about this."
Jason started loading the cash into his duffel bag. "I'm serious. Give me a few weeks to set things up."
Jason stood up and started loading the money into a duffel bag he'd brought. Eight hundred thousand dollars was heavier than he'd expected, but not unmanageable.
"I'll be in touch," he said, zipping up the bag.
"When?"
"When I have something worth your time."
Jason left the barbershop and walked to a storage facility on Canal Street. He'd rented a unit that morning, paying cash for six months. The clerk hadn't asked questions about why a teenager needed storage space.
Unit 47 was small but clean. Jason placed the duffel bag in the corner and covered it with a tarp. Eight hundred thousand dollars, hidden in Lower Manhattan.
The subway ride back to Brooklyn was quiet. A few commuters heading home from late shifts, some kids coming back from parties. Jason sat in the corner and watched the tunnel lights flash by.
When he got home, his mother was in the kitchen with coffee and a worried expression. She looked up when he walked in, studying his face the way she did when she was trying to figure out if he was hiding something.
"How did the tutoring go? You were gone longer than I expected."
"Better than expected. The family was really generous, more generous than I thought they'd be." Jason sat down across from her and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, placing it on the table. "This is what they paid me for one day."
His mother picked up the bill like she'd never seen one before. "One hundred dollars? For tutoring?" She turned it over, held it up to the light. "Jason, this is more than I make in a whole shift at the hospital."
"They want me to continue. Regular sessions, same pay rate. Maybe even more if their son's grades improve."
Maria set the bill down and looked at her son carefully. "Honey, I've been cleaning houses and working at the hospital for fifteen years. Rich people don't just throw around hundred-dollar bills unless they want something. What exactly did you do for them?"
"I helped their kid with calculus and chemistry. He's struggling in both classes, and they're worried about his college applications."
"And they paid you a hundred dollars for that?"
"They said if I can get his grades up, they'll pay even more. Ma, what if money wasn't an issue for us anymore? What if we could move somewhere nicer, get you out of those double shifts?"
His mother was quiet for a long moment, then folded the bill and pushed it back toward him. "Keep it. Save it for college. But Jason, don't let this go to your head. Rich people can be unpredictable, and I don't want you getting hurt when they decide they don't need you anymore."