The dice scattered onto the board.

Two sixes.

Walt leaned over and advanced his tiny car twelve squares. “Marvin Gardens,” he said. “Who owns it?”

“Me.” Jim held up the deed. “Thirty dollars, if you please.”

The money was grudgingly peeled off Walt’s stack and handed over. “Is this what it’s really like to be in the real estate business?”

“Sort of,” said Jim. “But good luck finding a place in Atlantic City for thirty bucks a night. And I think they left out the casino and brothel pieces by mistake.”

“You deal with casinos and brothels?”

“More often than you’d think,” Jim sighed.