You Always Lose

By Darrin Atkins

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 30, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469102382

Darrin Atkins

Darrin Atkins was raised in Stockton, California. He graduated from the University of the Pacific in 1993 and then studied in a Ph.D. Program in Social Psychology at the University of Nevada. He has worked at Premiere magazine, Nevada magazine, the Reno Gazette-Journal, Investor’s Business Daily and The Record. “You Always Lose” is his fourth book.

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Copyright © 1999 by Darrin Atkins.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing

from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to

any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the Unitaed States of America.

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Contents

PART I

PART II

PART III

PART I

1

I couldn’t leave fast enough. It was the first Monday of June, a very hot June, two weeks after I had graduated from high school. I had woken up at five a.m. so I’d miss the early traffic rush on the Sacramento freeways, on Highway 99 and Highway 50. I had spent the last ten years in the big port city just south of Sacramento and this was the day I had wished for, hoped for, and dreamed about for years. I would be free and independent. I would be able to make my own decisions and suffer the consequences and drive anywhere and do anything and come and go as I please. I was going to be on my own, all by myself, rushing through the fields and mountains, seeing what life was all about.

My father walked out of the house and joined me as I packed my bags in my sporty, dark blue Nissan 260Z. I was only going up to Tahoe, a short three-hour drive, but he was there to see me off nonetheless. I guess it had something to do with the fact that I was moving away to be on my own, though probably just for the summer.

Here’s a little money, he said. Call if you need any more and try to come down and visit us.

Of course, I said as I hugged him and then got in my car and drove off into the early morning light. I turned right at the end of the court and couldn’t wait until I got to the freeway and that much closer to my new life. My father’s co-worker had a friend who worked at a big casino at South Lake Tahoe and she had promised to help me get a job up there. She didn’t say what kind of job and that didn’t matter to me at all. Any job would be fine just so long as I was making money and had enough to support myself. That was the only thing I cared about. All I had to do was find a place to stay, which was another reason why I was leaving early. I would have all day when I got there to find a place, all day to scope out the area, all day to just be free.

I knew my money wouldn’t last very long so I had to stay focused and concentrate and get a job secured as fast as I could. There were plenty of motels and hotels where I could sleep and, worst case scenario, I could always just park somewhere and sleep in my car but I knew I didn’t want to start out like that. I wanted to start out right and confident and have a good feeling about it.

I hardly remember the drive, except for the relief I felt after passing Sacramento and leaving all the morning rat-race behind me, the congestion, the daily grind. I remember the scorching California heat even that early in the morning, and the dry, fire-hazard fields alongside the freeway. Once I got past Sacramento and then the small cities and towns east of the capitol and then up higher in elevation, I felt better.

I was excited or maybe just nervous. I couldn’t tell the difference. I only had a few hundred dollars and a phone number of a woman I had never met. But I just wanted to be some place different, some town where I could meet different people and be around new scenery and get out of San Joaquin County. I was just tired of the same city, same people, same buildings, same gas stations, same constant crime and murder, and same numbness at the predictability of it all. I had spent all those years in the same house, around the same neighbors, and I had shopped in the same grocery stores. It was high time for a change for the better. It was time to get away and as fast as possible.

My dark blue Nissan didn’t have much power and actually needed a tune-up so it slowed down once I reached the windy steep curves of the Sierra mountains. I didn’t care too much, mostly because I was enjoying the mountains and the pines, the cool air, and the spectacular views all around. I stopped only one time along the way, for gas and a drink, because I so desperately wanted to get to Tahoe as soon as I could and leave the past behind where it should be.

I had had some trouble with my car a week earlier and I figured that there was always half a chance that if I stopped a lot then my car wouldn’t start again or break down and I didn’t want to be stuck halfway between my past and future, wasting away in the present. I wanted to find my new job and my new life and my new place to stay and my new friends and my new memories.

But on some parts of the highway there was only one lane and my slow pace backed up cars and trucks and trailers and motorcycles so I knew I had to pull over at the first chance. I tried to change to a lower gear in my automatic transmission but it didn’t seem to help at all so I shifted back and put the pedal to the metal and took the corners sharp as I constantly glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the long line of vehicles behind me. They were right behind me, pressuring me, urging me to go faster, and faster was what I wanted to go, but the car just wouldn’t or couldn’t do it.

There was no place to pull over and the cars couldn’t pass me because the corners were too sharp and nobody could see more then thirty yards ahead and it was too dangerous for cars to even attempt to pass me. I tried not to think about it and tried just to think of my future but then the cars started to honk and I didn’t know what they expected me to do because I couldn’t go any faster and there was no way to pull off the road.

I tried to drive as close to the right side of the road as I could but there wasn’t much room and it was too dangerous for me so I just watched intently and finally there was a spot and I pulled over sharply and stopped and watched the long line of angry drivers of cars and trucks drive by and I tried not to look at them. But all the time I kept my engine running because I didn’t want it to stall and not start again. Soon the last car passed and I waited a second longer and then put the car in drive again and pulled away and drove as fast as I could.

Finally I reached the highest elevation and I could see Highway 50 stretching downwards. Sometimes I even glimpsed part of wonderful Lake Tahoe. The signs indicated that I was only about ten miles away now. The sun was out, it was only nine a.m., and it couldn’t have been more than seventy degrees out, much nicer than the blistering day it would have been down in the valley. I was so glad I wasn’t there anymore and I shook my head side to side as I thought about it and how long I had waited to get away from it all and here I was on my way and no one could stop me.

The signs and billboards promoting the hotels and casinos and restaurants were more frequent now as I reached the first signs of a city, a big grocery store on my left and a movie theater on my right. The air smelled so great and fresh and pure and I wondered how I could have lived so long without this purity, this freshness, this mountain air in my lungs. How had I lived down in the smog-infested valley of death?

I watched carefully now and followed Highway 50 until I came to a major intersection that indicated for me to turn right and go about five miles east until I came to the Nevada state line, where I knew from experience was where the casinos would be. I was observant as I drove, always making a mental note as to where I could stay that night, a cheap motel here, but not there, maybe the one on my left, doesn’t look too expensive, but I don’t have much money, have to be careful.

I drove east on the highway and passed dozens, no hundreds, of motels and hotels and shops and souvenir stands but I kept driving, down a small hill, along a straight-away, up a high, steep hill, until I saw the sparkling blue lake on the left and what a splendid sight it was with the sun’s rays shimmering off the top and the boats cruising on the serene surface and the water skiers having a blast.

The highway curved to the right though I wanted to stop so much and just jump right on in, not caring about anything else, but there was no place to stop there, not even a stoplight, and I didn’t really have time to even get a good look at the lake. I couldn’t even tell if there was a sandy beach or if people were