Chương 19: Las Vegas Trip VII

December 25, 1970 — Christmas Day James woke before sunrise. For a few quiet moments, he simply lay in bed, listening. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the hotel's heating system. Outside, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to paint the Las Vegas skyline in shades of orange and gold. It was Christmas. His first Christmas back in 1970. His first Christmas with Enzo since returning to the past. A small smile appeared on his face.

Unlike the previous weeks, there were no plans to discuss business, no factory updates to analyze, and no decisions waiting to be made. Today belonged entirely to family.

A little after seven, Enzo stirred awake. He looked toward James and smiled.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Grandpa." Enzo sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"You know..."

"I've been celebrating Christmas for fifty years."

"But this one feels different." James tilted his head.

"Different how?" Enzo thought for a moment before answering.

"I don't know." He smiled warmly.

"Maybe because..."

"For the first time in a long while..."

"I'm actually optimistic about the future." James remained quiet. Those words meant more than Enzo realized. In his previous life... Optimism had slowly disappeared from his grandfather after Thompson Manufacturing began collapsing. By 1975, the company had been bankrupt. By 1978... Enzo had died carrying the weight of that failure. James looked at him across the room.

"Not this time."

"I won't let history repeat itself."

After getting dressed, they made their way downstairs. The dining room had been decorated even more elaborately than before. Red ribbons wrapped around every column. Fresh pine garlands lined the walls. Small Christmas ornaments decorated each table. Hotel employees greeted guests with cheerful smiles.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." The greetings echoed throughout the room. James and Enzo returned them just as warmly. Breakfast felt more festive than on previous mornings. Families laughed together. Children excitedly spoke about the presents waiting for them back home. Even the hotel staff seemed more relaxed than usual. Enzo raised his coffee cup.

"A toast." James picked up his glass of orange juice.

"To what?"

"To family." James smiled.

"To family." Their glasses clinked softly.

After breakfast, they decided against sightseeing. Instead, they remained inside the Silver Star Hotel, enjoying the quieter pace of Christmas Day. They browsed through several gift shops. Enzo purchased a small leather wallet for himself after his old one finally began showing its age. James found an illustrated book about the history of the American West. Enzo noticed him reading through it.

"You want it?" James nodded.

"It looks interesting."

"Then it's yours."

"Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, Grandpa."

Later that afternoon, they settled into one of the hotel's lounges overlooking the Strip. Large windows allowed warm sunlight to fill the room while guests relaxed in comfortable armchairs. Some played chess. Others read books or newspapers. A pianist quietly performed Christmas melodies in the background. Enzo folded his newspaper after finishing the business section.

"I can't help wondering how things are going back in Brooklyn." James smiled.

"So can I."

"I'd imagine Marcus is walking the production floor every hour." Enzo laughed.

"Probably every thirty minutes."

"And Leslie?"

"Keeping everyone organized."

"Without question." James continued.

"Anthony's probably reminding everyone to document every shipment." Enzo nodded approvingly.

"That sounds exactly like him." For a few moments, both of them imagined Thompson Manufacturing continuing its work hundreds of miles away. Machines humming. Workers assembling backpacks. Quality inspectors examining finished jackets. Shipping crews preparing retailer orders. The factory no longer depended on military contracts. It was building its own future.

As evening approached, the hotel hosted a special Christmas dinner for its guests. A live orchestra performed throughout the meal while hotel employees served a traditional holiday menu. Roasted turkey. Honey-glazed ham. Mashed potatoes. Fresh vegetables. Homemade pies. The ballroom buzzed with cheerful conversation. Halfway through dinner, Enzo leaned toward James.

"You know what tomorrow is." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. James smiled knowingly.

"The games begin." Enzo nodded.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."

"I've been curious for months." James chuckled.

"You only have to wait another day."

"I know." Enzo laughed.

"I just wish tomorrow would arrive a little faster." James looked at his grandfather with quiet amusement. Only forty-eight hours earlier, Enzo had viewed the wager as nothing more than an odd request from an unusually intelligent ten-year-old. Now... He genuinely wanted to see whether the impossible would happen. James couldn't blame him. He wanted to watch those games just as much. Not because he doubted the outcome.

But because this would be the first time in his second life that knowledge of the future would translate into real, tangible wealth. Tomorrow... The first whistle would blow. And the Private Capital Plan would begin proving itself. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ December 26, 1970 James woke before his alarm. Not out of excitement. Out of habit. For decades, his adult life had conditioned him to wake early, and despite having the body of a ten-year-old again, some routines refused to disappear.

He dressed quietly while Enzo was still asleep. Walking to the window, he pulled the curtains aside. The Las Vegas Strip was already coming to life. Maintenance crews washed sidewalks. Delivery trucks unloaded food and supplies through service entrances. Taxi drivers lined up outside the larger hotels, waiting for the morning rush. It looked like any other working city. Only the thousands of neon lights hinted at what it became every evening. Behind him, Enzo stirred awake.

He stretched before glancing toward James.

"Morning."

"Morning, Grandpa." Enzo smiled.

"Today's the day." James nodded.

"It is."

Breakfast was noticeably livelier than on previous mornings. The sportsbook had become one of the most talked-about places inside the hotel. Several businessmen at nearby tables debated the afternoon's football games. One insisted Dallas would win comfortably. Another argued Detroit had a better defense than people realized. A third believed one of the underdogs would pull off an upset. Enzo listened quietly while stirring his coffee. Finally, he leaned toward James.

"I suppose everyone thinks they're right." James smiled.

"They do."

"And only a few will be." Enzo chuckled.

"I'd certainly like us to be among them."

After breakfast, they decided not to spend the day wandering around the city. Instead, they remained inside the hotel. There was little point pretending they weren't interested in the games. They found comfortable seats inside one of the hotel's lounges, where several televisions had been placed for guests wishing to follow the NFL playoffs. By early afternoon, nearly every chair was occupied. Some guests held notebooks. Others carried newspapers listing the betting lines.

Waitresses moved continuously through the room serving coffee and soft drinks. The atmosphere resembled a theater moments before the curtain rose. James quietly observed everyone around him. It fascinated him. Most of these people believed they were trying to predict the future. Only he already knew it.

The first game kicked off. Enzo folded his arms.

"Well..."

"I suppose there's nothing left to do now." James nodded.

"We watch." For the first quarter, neither of them spoke very much. Enzo followed every play carefully, though James noticed his grandfather occasionally glancing toward him instead of the television. Eventually, James smiled.

"You can stop checking my face." Enzo laughed.

"Was it that obvious?"

"A little."

"I was hoping you'd react if something unexpected happened." James kept his eyes on the television.

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because unexpected things happen inside games."

"The final score is what matters." Enzo nodded thoughtfully.

"Fair point."

As the afternoon progressed, the first of James's predictions steadily unfolded. The favorite maintained control. The pace of the game remained slower than many commentators had expected. Every passing minute brought the total score closer to the projected under. Enzo found himself becoming increasingly invested. Not because of the money. Because he wanted to know whether James had truly accomplished something extraordinary. Late in the fourth quarter, he quietly leaned back in his chair.

"This is..." He searched for the right word.

"... remarkably close to what you wrote." James simply nodded.

"We still have to reach the final whistle."

"You're right." Enzo smiled.

"I've negotiated enough contracts to know never to celebrate early."

When the game finally ended, the room erupted with mixed reactions. Some guests cheered. Others groaned in disappointment. Several immediately began recalculating the remaining combinations on their betting slips. Enzo didn't say a word. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and carefully unfolded James's handwritten instructions. He compared them to the final result. Then he slowly looked toward his grandson.

"One." James nodded.

"One." Enzo carefully folded the paper again before returning it to his pocket.

"There are still three games left."

"There are."

"But..." He couldn't suppress a smile.

"... it's certainly an encouraging start." James allowed himself the smallest smile.

"It is." Outside, the Nevada sun slowly began sinking toward the horizon. One game was complete. Three remained. And for the first time since arriving in Las Vegas... Even Enzo had begun wondering whether the impossible was actually about to happen. ☆☆☆☆☆ The remainder of the afternoon passed more slowly than either of them had expected. Now that the first selection had come through exactly as James had predicted, every possession in the following game seemed to carry even greater importance.

Enzo no longer watched the games merely as a football fan. He watched them as an investor with forty-eight thousand dollars hanging in the balance. They remained in the hotel lounge, where the crowd had grown even larger. Every available chair was occupied. Latecomers stood along the walls with folded newspapers tucked beneath their arms. The atmosphere became noticeably louder every time a team crossed midfield. James sat quietly beside his grandfather, occasionally sipping from his glass of cola.

To anyone watching, he appeared to be a boy spending the afternoon with his grandfather. No one would have guessed he already knew how every game would end.

The second game kicked off shortly after the first had concluded. Enzo crossed one leg over the other and folded his arms.

"I'll admit something." James glanced toward him.

"What?"

"I'm actually nervous." James smiled.

"I noticed."

"I haven't been this nervous watching football in years."

"That's because you've got something riding on it."

"I suppose I do." He laughed quietly.

"Although technically..." He tapped the inside pocket of his jacket.

"... it's your money." James shrugged.

"Our money is on the field today." Enzo nodded.

"Fair enough."

The game unfolded almost exactly as James remembered. The favorite controlled the tempo. Neither offense managed to score quickly. Long drives consumed valuable minutes from the clock. Every punt. Every missed opportunity. Every defensive stop... Worked in their favor. Enzo found himself unconsciously calculating the remaining points needed to ruin the under. Then he stopped. He laughed at himself.

"I can't believe I'm doing arithmetic during a football game." James grinned.

"I thought businessmen liked numbers."

"We do."

"But usually not these numbers."

Late in the fourth quarter, the television commentators began discussing the unusually low-scoring contest. One analyst remarked that both defenses had completely dictated the pace of the afternoon. Another noted that bettors expecting an offensive shootout had likely been disappointed. Enzo slowly smiled.

"That sounds promising." James kept his eyes on the television.

"We're not finished yet."

"No."

"We're not."

The final minutes ticked away. Neither team managed another meaningful drive. When the referee's whistle finally signaled the end of the game, applause echoed throughout the lounge. Some guests celebrated. Others crumpled betting slips in frustration. Several immediately hurried toward the sportsbook to check the updated parlay boards. Enzo reached into his jacket once again. He unfolded the handwritten sheet. His eyes moved carefully across the second line.

Then he looked at the television displaying the final score. He checked it again. Just to be certain. Finally... A slow smile spread across his face.

"Two." James nodded calmly.

"Two." Enzo folded the paper with almost ceremonial care.

"I was hoping for one."

"I certainly wasn't expecting two." James chuckled.

"We're halfway there." Those words lingered in Enzo's mind. Halfway. Two games remained. If both came through... The sportsbook would owe them forty-eight thousand dollars. He looked around the crowded lounge. Hundreds of people had spent the afternoon trying to predict football games. Only one ten-year-old boy had predicted them with unsettling precision. Enzo looked toward James again.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I'm beginning to think I'm sitting beside the luckiest child in America." James smiled.

"Let's wait until tomorrow before giving me that title." Enzo laughed heartily.

"Agreed." Tomorrow would decide everything. The remaining two games were scheduled for Sunday, December 27. One more day. One more afternoon. And the remarkable wager that had begun with a folded sheet of paper over breakfast might become one of the greatest Christmas stories Enzo Lombardi would ever tell. ☆☆☆☆☆ December 27, 1970 Sunday morning arrived with an unusual sense of anticipation. James noticed it the moment he woke. The hotel felt different.

Even from the hallway outside Room 814, he could hear guests discussing yesterday's games as they walked toward breakfast. Some sounded excited. Others disappointed. Everyone seemed to have an opinion. Enzo was already dressed when James finished getting ready. He straightened his tie before smiling.

"I don't think I've looked forward to watching football this much in years." James buttoned his sweater.

"Neither have I." Although... For entirely different reasons.

The dining room was considerably busier than it had been the previous morning. Several newspapers near the entrance displayed the previous day's playoff results across their front pages. Guests gathered around discussing controversial referee decisions, missed field goals, and impressive defensive performances. One gentleman at a nearby table sighed dramatically.

"My entire parlay died yesterday." His friend laughed.

"So did mine." Enzo quietly exchanged an amused glance with James before taking another sip of coffee.

"So far..." He whispered.

"... ours is still alive." James smiled.

"So far."

They returned to the same lounge shortly before kickoff. The crowd was even larger than the day before. Every chair had been occupied nearly an hour before the game began. Additional folding chairs had been brought in by hotel staff. Several people stood along the back wall holding cups of coffee while waiting for the opening kickoff. The atmosphere resembled the final day of a championship tournament. Enzo settled into his seat. He reached into his jacket almost automatically.

The two betting tickets remained exactly where he had left them. Behind them rested James's handwritten prediction sheet. He smiled to himself.

"I think I've checked these enough times." James laughed.

"You've probably memorized the transaction numbers by now."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

The third game finally began. As before, James remained remarkably calm. He watched every play with quiet concentration. Not because he doubted the outcome. Simply because seeing history unfold exactly as he remembered still fascinated him. Enzo, meanwhile, reacted to nearly every possession. A successful defensive stop earned an approving nod. A long offensive drive caused him to lean slightly forward. An incomplete pass prompted a quiet sigh of relief. James eventually smiled.

"You look more nervous than the players." Enzo laughed without taking his eyes off the television.

"I probably am."

The game proved every bit as competitive as expected. Neither team managed to build a commanding lead. More importantly... The pace remained exactly where James needed it. The clock continued moving. The total points remained comfortably below the projected line. Late in the fourth quarter, one of the television commentators remarked,"This has turned into a defensive battle from start to finish." Enzo quietly murmured,"Keep talking." James smiled to himself. A few minutes later... The final whistle sounded.

The lounge erupted once again. Cheers. Groans. Applause. Someone tossed a losing betting slip into the air. Another man slapped his friend on the shoulder after winning a modest wager. Enzo didn't react immediately. Instead... He calmly removed James's handwritten sheet. He compared the final score. Once. Then twice. Finally... He slowly looked toward James.

"Three." James nodded.

"Three." Enzo let out a long breath.

"I honestly don't know what to think anymore." James smiled.

"There's still one game left."

"There is."

"But..." Enzo laughed softly.

"... I'm starting to believe you."

Only one game now separated them from the remarkable payout. The atmosphere inside the lounge became almost unbearable. Many of the remaining spectators still had wagers alive. Some needed the favorite. Others needed the underdog. Some simply needed the total points to stay below a certain number. Enzo leaned back in his chair.

"Funny." James looked over.

"What is?"

"A week ago..."

"I didn't even know what a parlay card looked like." James laughed.

"And now?"

"Now I think I've learned more about football betting in four days than I have in fifty years."

"I'd say that's accurate."

As the final game kicked off, neither of them spoke very much. Every drive seemed longer than it actually was. Every touchdown threatened to change everything. Every defensive stop restored hope. Time itself appeared to move more slowly. James remained composed. Enzo... Not so much. By the middle of the fourth quarter, he had crossed and uncrossed his arms so many times that even he began laughing at himself.

"I don't remember being this anxious even when I signed our second military contract." James grinned.

"There's still time."

"I know."

"That's exactly what's making me nervous." The final minutes approached. The outcome of the game... And the outcome of their extraordinary Christmas wager... Would be decided before the afternoon was over. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ The final minutes seemed to stretch endlessly. Every snap of the football drew the attention of everyone inside the lounge. Conversations had disappeared. The clinking of glasses had stopped.

Even the waitresses moved more quietly between the rows of chairs, careful not to block anyone's view of the televisions. Enzo leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Without realizing it, he had clasped his hands together. James noticed.

"Nervous?" Enzo didn't even look away from the screen.

"Very." James smiled.

"I figured."

The game entered its final drive. One team desperately tried to move the ball downfield. The opposing defense refused to give an inch. The clock continued ticking. Every second that disappeared worked in James's favor. One of the television commentators raised his voice.

"They're running out of time!" Another added,"They'll have to hurry if they want any chance at all." Enzo quietly muttered,"Or they could simply not score." James heard him and chuckled.

"I thought businessmen were supposed to stay impartial."

"Not today."

The offense managed one final possession. A completed pass. Another. Then an incomplete throw stopped the clock. The quarterback hurried his teammates back to the line of scrimmage. The tension inside the lounge became almost tangible. No one wanted to blink. The ball was snapped again. The quarterback dropped back. Pressure arrived immediately. He escaped one defender before throwing deep toward the sideline. The pass fell harmlessly to the ground. A collective murmur spread through the room. Fourth down.

One last chance. Enzo slowly exhaled.

"This is unbelievable." James remained silent. He already knew what came next.

The final play began. The quarterback took the snap. The defensive line collapsed the pocket almost instantly. Forced to improvise, he launched the ball as far downfield as he could. Players from both teams converged beneath it. For one brief moment... The entire lounge seemed to stop breathing. The pass struck the turf untouched. The referee immediately signaled the play dead. Then... The final whistle echoed through the television speakers. The game was over.

For several seconds, Enzo simply stared at the screen. The television displayed the final score. Beneath it appeared the game's total points. James reached for his glass of cola and calmly took another sip. Across the room, some spectators celebrated. Others buried their faces in their hands. Several men immediately began pulling betting slips from their pockets. Enzo didn't move. Very slowly... He reached inside his jacket. He removed the folded sheet James had written. His eyes moved across each line. Dallas.

Correct. Baltimore. Correct. Oakland. Correct. San Francisco. Correct. Then he checked each total. One by one. Every single selection matched. Perfectly. He lowered the paper. Looked at the television. Then back at the paper. Finally... He turned toward James. There was complete disbelief on his face.

"You..." He stopped. Shook his head. Then laughed.

"You actually did it." James smiled.

"We did it." Enzo blinked several times before laughing again, this time louder.

"We actually did it." For the first time all weekend, James allowed himself to relax completely. The wager was no longer a prediction. It was history.

Enzo carefully removed the two betting tickets from his jacket. He looked at them with an entirely different expression now.

"They're worth forty-eight thousand dollars." James nodded.

"They are." Enzo laughed quietly.

"I've been carrying nearly fifty thousand dollars around in my pocket..."

"... and I didn't even realize it." James smiled.

"Good thing you kept checking they were still there."

"Oh, don't worry." He tucked them carefully back inside his jacket.

"I don't think these tickets are leaving my sight until tomorrow morning." He stood from his chair.

"So..." James looked up.

"So?"

"What does a financial genius do after making forty-eight thousand dollars?" James grinned.

"I was thinking..."

"We celebrate." Enzo smiled broadly.

"I like that idea."

"Very much." He placed a hand on James's shoulder.

"Dinner's on me." James laughed.

"I certainly hope so." Together, they left the crowded lounge. Behind them, dozens of disappointed bettors discussed what had gone wrong with their own predictions. No one paid any attention to the grandfather and grandson quietly walking out together. No one knew that inside Enzo Lombardi's jacket rested two ordinary paper tickets that would be exchanged the following morning for $48, 000. Nor did anyone realize that those winnings marked only the beginning. For James... This wasn't the end of a gamble.

It was the opening move in a financial strategy that would span decades.