Arnold Delgado shot to his feet. "You agreed to the first three rounds no problem. Now it's my turn and suddenly you want to renege? How is that fair?"
My wife, Isabel, said nothing—but the look she gave me was loaded with reproach.
Reproach for ruining the festive mood of a family game on New Year's Eve.
I let my gaze sweep across every face at the table.
It settled, finally, on Arnold's.
"The first three rounds—fine. I can chalk those up to a game."
"But a house worth tens of millions? Arnold, you've got some nerve asking for that."
"Don't forget—your current job exists because I pulled strings to get you in."
The air turned to ice.
Arnold's face flushed crimson.
"Leslie, yes, I asked you for help getting that job. But you agreed to play this game yourself. When it's your turn to send the red envelope, you can make demands too!"
"Can't afford to play, and now you want to pin that on me?"
Nicholas Mason let out a cold snort.
"All he did was get Arnold some low-level clerk position at his company. The way he carries on, you'd think he landed him some incredible job!"
Laughable.