Before parting ways that first day, Scott had suggested playing for money on the golf course the following day. He was being cocky, of course, just wanted to ride out the win. Couldn’t stand to call it quits while he was ahead. That was the disease, wasn’t it? That’s what they called it in the meetings: a disease. Scott had been to only a few meetings over the past few years. They made him feel real shitty. Because he knew this was bad, knew this made him a bad man, and if he allowed himself to dwell on it for more than two seconds, it crushed his heart. He’d broken so many promises to himself, he’d lost count. He didn’t want to hurt his family, didn’t want to be this bad man. But the impulse overcame all logic, all thoughts of family and future, when it took hold. A disease.

All of this had started about three years ago, with a buddy’s bachelor party in Atlantic City. Who had bachelor parties for their second marriage? Anyhow, that was the start, and it had been a riotous affair ever since. Once he reached his mid-forties, Scott didn’t expect to feel anything new—he thought he’d pretty much done it all, seen it all, felt all the things he was going to feel. But when he got that first whiff and then that first real taste of gambling that weekend in Atlantic City, it brought with it a new kind of adrenaline that knocked him upside down, socked him silly, sucked him right in. He was powerless, instantly in love with everything about it: the games themselves (it didn’t matter if it was blackjack online, roulette at the casino in Germantown, throwing a grand at the Redskins game, or Aces and Deuces on the golf course with some dudes from New Jersey), the smell of cash, the big wins, the wildly fluctuating bank account . . . It was, quite frankly—and it brought Scott no pleasure to admit this—better than the best sex. And along with all of this came the rush of trying to hide it all from Lisa, which was the highest-stakes game of all. God, it was brilliant, some of the maneuvers he’d pulled, some of the disasters he’d worked his way out of. He had to cover his tracks when it came to his internet activity, the happy hours at Monnetti’s to meet up with the bookie, and the occasional weekend at the casino, but so far Lisa was still completely in the dark. There had been a few times when she’d gotten close to catching him in a lie about his whereabouts, but even then, all it took was a bit of convincing and Lisa ultimately bought the lie and let it go.

Scott had noticed a decline in his sex drive when he first started gambling, and worried at the time that this would arouse suspicion. But Lisa seemed fine with it, perhaps even favorable to the new, less frequent routine. Scott didn’t like to dwell on this too much. And when it came to the money, gambling had required Scott to create secret accounts, make transfers that wouldn’t raise red flags, and be sure that he always had enough in the joint account to cover the bills and Lisa’s credit card spending. He tried hard never to touch this joint account, and so far had done it only once, dipping in for a hefty loan that he was able to replenish the very next day. Some way, somehow, Scott had always been able to pull out a big win when he needed it most. It was almost like somebody up there cared and was looking out for him.