The Finding

by Nicky Charles

  “It’s just a few bets. You know, me and the guys playing poker. No big stakes...” He brushed his hair from his eyes and gave a light laugh. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t have money—”

  She was angry and let him know it. “My money, not yours. And I’m saving it in case of an emergency.” Kellen knew that—oh, not the exact kind of emergency she was worried about—but he knew she didn’t want to spend it foolishly. “We live on what we make from our jobs.” Cassie lifted her chin and glared at him.

  “Yeah, right.” He was using his snarky attitude now, his hands shoved in his back pockets, a sneer twisting his lips. God, she hated that tone. “Like the money you earn as a cashier at a grocery store will ever make us rich.”

  “We don’t need to be rich!” The volume of her voice rose, even though she knew she shouldn’t respond to his words. It was the same old argument. Kellen always wanted more.

  Correspondingly, he spoke louder as well. “Maybe you don’t, but I have no intention of stocking shelves and mopping floors for the rest of my life. I want more than this!” He swept his arm out to encompass the living room of their small rented home.

  Cassie knew what he saw. Slightly worn furniture and an older style TV; tables she’d purchased at a second-hand shop and draped with colourful fabric... It wasn’t much, but it was clean and it was theirs. They owed no one. She refused to acknowledge the stinging hurt of his derisive words. While she was proud of how they’d managed thus far, Kellen wasn’t content with the life they’d forged together. He was always seeking that mythical pot of gold.

  She brushed an imaginary speck from the small table beside her, then looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Exhaling slowly, she tried to keep her voice calm and reasonable. “Gambling is a bad habit. You told me you’d quit.”

  “Just like you quit the drugs?” He fired the words back at her.

  She folded her arms defensively and looked away from his accusing stare. How typical of him to try to twist the conversation around. “I never promised you I’d quit. Besides, it’s not the same thing.”

  “No? I’ve gone for months at a time without placing a single bet. Can you say the same thing?”

  Cassie was silent knowing she needed her monthly ‘fix’ as he called it, though for far different reasons than he suspected.

  Kellen continued, heaping blame on her. “Who else has a once a month habit like yours? You lock yourself up for three days every month. You won’t let me see you or talk to you... Hell, you even tried to ban me from the house while you’re off on some freaky drug induced trip.”

  She knew he was trying to draw attention away from his own shortcomings, but the truth of his words left her with no defence, or at least not one she could share. Even after all this time, he knew nothing about the three days from hell she suffered every month. Days filled with fear; fighting the raging voice inside, struggling not to convert into a monster capable of killing any person who got in her way; hating herself and what she was. He had no idea of her self-loathing...

  “I’ve heard you when I’m home; the crying, the thrashing about, babbling to yourself... And you look like shit afterwards.”

  “It’s not your concern.” Cassie hugged herself even more tightly, trying to forget what it was like; how with each month the struggle seemed to grow harder, how the beast was becoming stronger...

  “Sorry sweetheart, but it is my concern. I’m the one you call when you wake up God knows where with no idea of how you even got out of the house. I’m the one who covers for you at work. I’m the one risking my neck and possible arrest every time I buy your illegal drugs.” His face was ruddy with emotion by time he finished speaking.

  She shifted uncomfortably, knowing the dicey situation her need placed him in. “I never said you had to. I can buy them myself.”

  Kellen snorted. “Yeah. Right. Well, in case you’ve forgotten, the dealers don’t know you. You don’t know how to talk to them and a pretty, naive little girl like you wandering the streets is just asking for trouble.”

  Giving a half shrug, she knew he was right, but didn’t want to admit the fact. When she’d first run out of her migraine medication—well by then she’d known it wasn’t for migraines, but that was what she still called it—she’d gone to a clinic in the hopes of getting more. Her request had been met with stunned silence and then a flurry of activity as the staff had started to make arrangements for blood work, urine samples, and a plethora of other tests. Realizing that something she’d said must have made the nurse wary, she’d slipped out of the small clinic when no one was looking, fearful that her secret might be discovered.

  Once she was home, she began researching the medication on-line only to find that it was a heavy sedative rarely used and only under strict medical supervision. It had come as a shock to discover what her uncle had been pumping into her month after month, yet fear of the consequences, should she not take the drugs, drove her to find more.

  Her previously sheltered existence as the ward of a multimillionaire had left her exceptionally ill-prepared to deal with real life, let alone the seamier side of it. The first time she’d tried to buy her medication on the street, Kellen had watched from a distance and narrowly saved her from approaching an undercover narcotics officer. After that near debacle, he’d taken over the task.

  “And do you know how hard it is for me to get that stuff?” He ran his hand agitatedly through his hair. “The dealers think I’m crazy; no one takes that junk for fun.”

  “That’s my business.” The weight of her guilt made her snap at him.

  “Just like the occasional night of gambling is mine.” Kellen growled back before striding to the door.

  “Kellen!” His name ripped from her throat as she called after him, not caring that her voice betrayed her emotional pain. She hated parting this way, hated how their relationship was falling apart.

  He grabbed the handle, but paused before opening the door. Seconds ticked past as Cassie watched him standing there, his head bowed down. His shoulders rose and fell once then he turned and looked at her, his eyes reflecting his internal grief. “Sandy, I...I’m sorry.”

  He half turned to her and her heart beat faster, hoping he would choose to stay home, that he’d choose her over the thrill of gaming. She tried to put her heart in her gaze, begging him wordlessly, promising, pleading...

  A car horn sounded from the street. He gave a start and darted a glance out the window. “That’ll be Greg.” For a moment, he seemed torn and she thought she might stand a chance, but his friend beeped the horn again, obviously impatient. His hand flexed on the door knob. “I...I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Quickly, he pulled the door open and stepped onto the front porch. There was a miniscule pause in his stride and he spoke without turning around. “We’ll talk later. I...I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Cassie whispered, wondering if the words were even true. It didn’t matter though; he hadn’t waited to hear her reply. The door shut quietly and she allowed her shoulders to slump. She leaned her head against the wall; the smooth, coolness of the painted surface felt good against her flushed face. A single snort of sardonic laughter escaped her. The fact that he called her Sandy—a fake name she’d given him three years ago—epitomized their relationship. Secrets and deceit were interwoven into their lives; he didn’t even know her real name was Cassandra or that her family had called her Cassie.

  Pushing off from the wall, she crossed the room. She hadn’t really expected to make him stay, but she’d hoped. Insanely, ridiculously, she hoped that this time... With a roll of her eyes, she cut off her own thinking. Who was she trying to fool? The gambling was a sickness within him. For periods of time, it went into remission, but it always came back; rearing its ugly head and destroying the happiness and peace that had developed between them. Sure it was his pay cheque to waste, but it put an added burden on her to cover household expenses and she resented the fact.

  Cassie pulled aside the curta
in to stare out the window at the car in the driveway. Kellen was walking towards it, laughing at something one of his cronies had called out to him. Even at this distance she could sense the change in him; there was a bounce in his step; his voice indistinct yet full of excitement. Energy seemed to radiate from him as adrenaline pumped through his system.

  He might berate her for her supposed habit, but gambling was his drug. She’d seen the effects up close. His eyes dilated and overly bright as he scanned the gaming table; the trembling of his hands, the way he’d lick his lips and his breathing would quicken.

  Kellen climbed in the car, his friend barely giving him time to shut the door before pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the street. Letting the curtain fall into place, Cassie turned and wandered back to the kitchen, her steps echoing in the quiet, lonely house. The meal she’d prepared earlier no longer seemed appetizing, but she forced herself to eat a small portion. When she was finished, she put away the leftovers, dejectedly wondering why she even bothered. Maybe she should be spiteful and just throw Kellen’s portion in the garbage... No, this wasn’t a silly childish game and she wouldn’t stoop to such petty revenge. Besides, she couldn’t afford to be that wasteful.

  As she prepared to leave the room, she took a moment to do a quick survey, checking the stove was off and the tap wasn’t dripping. Her gaze passed over the table and the small bouquet she’d arranged. It was flanked by two candles, all ready to celebrate the anniversary of the day they’d met. Three years ago today, she’d first set eyes on Kellen. At the time, she’d been scared out of her wits, not knowing which way to turn and he’d been her knight in shining armour, showing her how to survive. She sighed. Now... Well, she wasn’t sure what he was anymore.

  For some reason she decided to light one of the candles. The flickering flame cast shadows across the wall and table surface, creating mysterious images. She squinted trying to determine what the shapes looked like, but they shifted too quickly. She smiled a little crookedly. It was a bit like her own life. Mysterious shadows and secrets seemed to dance around her and she...well...she was the lone candle; her supposed partner was decidedly absent.

  Reaching out, she let her hand hover around the warmth of the flame, feeling its heat, mesmerized by its brightness. Then, firming her chin, she blew it out and headed to bed.

  Chapter 2

  Las Vegas, Nevada...

  The first tentative fingers of dawn were streaking the sky as Kellen unlocked the front door and let himself into the small house he shared with Sandy. He closed the door as quietly as possible, the slight sound of the lock snicking into place making him wince. Standing in the entryway, he listened carefully, and gave a slow sigh of relief when, hearing nothing but silence, he realized Sandy must still be sleeping. There was still an hour left before her alarm was due to go off, but sometimes she was up before then and he really didn’t feel like he could face her just yet.

  He placed his jacket on the hook by the door, and took off his shoes before padding into the kitchen in search of some water and pain killers. His head was throbbing and his body felt worn out, no doubt let-down from the adrenaline rush he’d been on for most of the night. A small smile graced his face as he relived the excitement of the winning streak he’d been on recently. Up twenty thousand dollars, he’d been hard pressed to contain his excitement believing his mother-load was finally coming in. Of course, lady luck was as fickle as ever. Just when it seemed he couldn’t lose, his good fortune turned and despite his best efforts, he ended up deeper in debt.

  Rubbing his hand over his face, he wondered if he really was recalling events clearly. Greg had found a new group to play with and the stakes had been higher than normal. Scott, one of Greg’s friends, had a liberal hand when it came to mixing drinks; and the women... God, he couldn’t believe the women that had been there. Gorgeous, miles of legs and scantily clad, they’d fawned all over him when he was winning. Even after the tide had turned, they’d been there; encouraging him, sharing his frustration over his losing streak, consoling him...

  His smile faded as he contemplated his losses. Surely there hadn’t been as many zeros after the numbers as he’d thought he’d seen. There was no way he owed fifty thousand. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out the note that Scott had given him. Shit! It really was that much. He crumpled the paper in his hand and tried to think through the pounding in his head.

  Kellen knew his bank balance hovered around the hundred dollar mark; he’d withdrawn most of his savings to get into the game, so there was no way he could pay off the debt that way. He swallowed nervously. Maybe Sandy...?

  He looked hopefully towards the hallway that led to the bedrooms and it was then that he noticed the kitchen table. A wilted bouquet and two candles graced the centre while a lone place setting, complete with wine glass and a starched white napkin sat at his usual spot.

  A sick feeling rose in his stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol he’d consumed or the money he owed. Sandy only set a fancy table for special occasions but what...? He quickly turned and stared at the calendar, groaning when he noticed the date.

  Damn! She’d circled it in red and had been chattering away about it all week; it was their three year anniversary. How could he forget? Thinking back, he recalled the argument they’d had before he left, only now remembering the hurt evident in her eyes. She hadn’t said anything, never specifically hinting it was a special day, but... Damn! He ran his hands through his hair and cursed himself for forgetting, for not paying closer attention.

  The sound of a door opening made him look towards the hallway. Before Sandy saw what he was holding, he shoved the promissory note in his pocket. Now was not the time to ask her for money. Pushing off from the counter he’d been leaning on, he straightened his shirt and stepped forward just as she appeared in the doorway.

  Long dark hair, rumpled from sleep, fell around her face and her green eyes still had the adorable, vaguely unfocussed look of morning that he so dearly loved.

  “Kellen?” Her voice was husky with sleep as she furrowed her brow at him.

  “Morning.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head.

  She brought her hands to his chest and pushed away, her nose wrinkled, probably catching a whiff of the alcohol on his breath. “Are you just getting home?”

  “Yeah.” He grasped her shoulders and squeezed them gently. “Hey, I’m sorry about last night.” He flicked a glance at the table and then back at her.

  Sandy gave a shrug, loosening his grip. “It doesn’t matter. It was just a silly idea I had.”

  “No. It wasn’t silly. Celebrating the day we met is important to me. You’re important to me.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it so he could see her eyes. “The day we met was the best day of my life.”

  She searched his face with her eyes, obviously wondering about the truth of his statement. “Sometimes I wonder about that.” Her voice was soft and she sounded...lonely. It cut into his heart. God, he felt like such a jerk.

  Clasping her hands in his, he gave them a little shake. “Never wonder about how important you are to me. You helped turn my life around.”

  “Is that why you went out last night?” She cocked her head to the side and gave him a considering look.

  Kellen winced and let go of her hands. “Yeah. Well...last night was a mistake.” In more ways than one, he added silently, thinking of the money he owed. He forced a smile. “I wish I would have stayed home with you.”

  She responded with a slight movement of her lips that could have passed for a smile, then looked down, idly playing with the hem of her tank top. “I wish you would have, too.”

  There was a sadness to her voice and he desperately wanted to erase it. Trying to sound happy and hearty, he pulled her into a quick hug, then just as quickly, let go. “Listen. I’ll make it up to you. Tonight it will be just you and me. I’ll make dinner and rent one of your chic-flicks. We’ll watch it together, have som
e popcorn... What do you say?”

  “Sure.” Sandy shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. “Dinner and a movie fixes everything, doesn’t it?”

  Kellen suspected her words were more sarcastic than an attempt at humour but he chose to believe the latter and chuckled briefly.

  Sandy flicked an unreadable look at him then turned and headed down the hallway calling over her shoulder. “I have to get ready for work. I’ll talk to you later.”

  As she walked away, he watched her slight form outlined in a tank top and sleeping shorts. A familiar stirring in his groin compounded his guilt over the missed dinner. Could he sink much lower than this? Lusting for her, after last night’s events? He could still smell the other women’s perfume on his clothes; still recall the feel of their fingers teasing his hair, their hot breath on his cheek as they whispered encouragement to him...

  Disgusted with himself, he stomped down the hallway, pulling his shirt off and throwing it into the hamper. Shucking his jeans, he tossed them in the basket as well, then fell onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

  God, why did he always screw up everything? Sandy deserved better than him. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Letting his arms drop lifelessly at his side, he sighed heavily; damn, but he was tired. His eyes felt dry and scratchy so he let them drift shut as he contemplated the day to come, and how he could make amends for his mistake. Maybe he’d clean the house and do a bit of laundry; that usually made her happy. Then he’d fix dinner and have it ready when she got home from work.

  A yawn escaped him and he rolled onto his side, listening to the hissing of the shower and the faint sounds Sandy made as she prepared for the day. He’d just rest for a few minutes and when she came out, he’d get up...

  *****

  Smythston, Oregon...

  Kane paced their private sitting room, reading the latest report from Chicago before crumpling the paper and throwing it to the ground. “Damn!”