Jim steadman walked out of his regular Friday night poker game with his close friend since high school Dan Miller onto the crescent-shaped driveway of a Tudor-style mansion in a wealthy Chicago neighborhood.
“What’s going on with you?” Miller asked. “You just lost a hundred and fifty grand in a one-on-one hand of showdown.”
“I can afford it,” Jim replied.
“That’s not the point. You’re playing like a fool and that doesn’t fit. You’re the best gambler I know. I think you were born with a deck of cards in one hand and a pair of dice in the other.”
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