The Gamble

by Kristen Ashley

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Thanks, Nina,” she answered and my head jerked at her words.

  “I thought you’d be mad at me, putting you on the spot in there, um –”

  “Nope,” Bitsy told me, smiling but there was something sad about it. “You know, all these years in this chair, people still handle me like I’m made of glass. It sucks. Everyone’s always taking care of me. That sucks too. Not once, not even once that I can remember for ten years, did anyone need me, make me feel like I still had something to give.” She reached out a hand to me and I took it before she finished. “In there, I had something to give. You knew my day was shit but you trusted me to do it, you trusted me to be strong enough, you knew Mindy’s problems were bigger than mine and you treated me like a normal person instead of someone made of glass. So, thanks.”

  “Um… you’re welcome?” I said on a question, she laughed softly and even her laughter did nothing to lessen the sadness in her features.

  The laughter died away, her eyes went funny and she whispered, “Wish you’d come here ages ago.”

  I studied her then asked quietly, “You okay?”

  She pulled in a breath through her nose, seemed to shake off whatever had hold of her and she nodded. Then her eyes slid over my shoulder before they swiftly shot back to me.

  Then for some reason, she whispered urgently, “Take care of Max.”

  Her mood had shifted yet again and surprised at her tone, her words and the fervor behind them, I started to turn but heard Max’s deep voice asking, “Ready?”

  I nodded to him and then looked back at Bitsy, leaned in, gave her a kiss on the cheek and then moved away. Max moved in, slid the door closed then pounded on the roof twice with his open palm.

  When the counselor from the rape crisis center had arrived, Mom and Steve left (this was also in order that Mom could get ready for The Rooster). Shortly after that, Max and I said our good-byes to Mindy, Brody and Barb and we went out with Bitsy and Burt to the van.

  Now it was time to go back to the A-Frame.

  Max stood by me and watched Bitsy’s van pull away and she and I waved at each other when it did. Max didn’t move, just watched silently. Then without looking at me he walked to the Cherokee. I followed.

  He didn’t open my door, just bleeped the locks and I climbed in, buckled up and Max had the SUV out of the drive before I got myself situated in my seat.

  We were in town when I hazarded words.

  “Everything okay?”

  “We’ll talk when we get home,” was Max’s alarming answer.

  I wanted to push it, in fact, my palms were itching and words were on the tip of my tongue, I wanted so badly to push it. Something was wrong and I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t even know if I wanted to know what it was. I just knew I had to know. With effort, I kept silent all the way to the house.

  Snow had started gently falling by the time we turned into the road that would turn into the other road that led to his house.

  Max parked and jumped down. I did too.

  He hit the front door far faster than me mainly because he wasn’t wearing high-heeled boots but this could also be attributed to the fact that his legs were a lot longer than mine.

  I followed through the open door Max didn’t close. I closed it and my eyes went to him as I shrugged off my coat. He was in the kitchen heading to the fridge. I hooked my coat on a dining room chair and heard the hiss of a cap coming off a beer. I turned to the kitchen and saw him with his head back, taking a drink.

  I stopped at the edge of the counter and watched as he dropped his beer hand and leaned into his other hand on the counter.

  I pulled up the courage to start. “Max –”

  But Max spoke over me.

  “I know the situation was extreme but is it too fuckin’ much to ask you not to sit in another man’s lap when I’m standin’ in the room? Scratch that. Is it too fuckin’ much to ask it even if I’m in another fuckin’ state?”

  I felt my mouth drop open and my stomach pitch.

  “Sorry?” I whispered.

  “For what?” Max asked.

  Unnerved, I didn’t know what to say, so I stammered, “I… but… but it was Brody.”

  “Don’t give a fuck who it was.”

  “But –”

  “Don’t give a fuck why you did it either, Nina, just don’t do it again. Yeah?”

  “He… Max, he pulled me in his lap,” I reminded him. “Under the circumstances, I could hardly pull away.”

  “No circumstances are the right circumstances for you to have your ass in another man’s lap.”

  I shook my head, those short, quick shakes again.

  “Are we… are we really talking about this?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Positions reversed, Nina, you were in a room and I had a woman in my lap, would you like that?”

  My stomach pitched again at the thought he planted in my head and at the fact he kept calling me Nina.

  “No, of course not,” I told him.

  “Point made,” he replied curtly.

  “Unless it was Mindy or something,” I added.

  “I fed Mindy baby food. You’ve known Brody a coupla days. That’s hardly the same fuckin’ thing.”

  “In a way, it is.”

  “What it is, is, I’ve known you a week and you’re fuckin’ me. You’ve known Brody –”

  I lost my incredulity at our conversation and my mild confusion and the fear that I felt whenever he was angry at me and that red film covered my eyes again.

  “Don’t you finish that!” I warned.

  “Again, point made,” Max shot back.

  I leaned in and snapped, “You’re impossible!”

  “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.”

  I glared at him and he held my glare. Neither of us spoke, neither of us moved. I wanted to throw something at him but nothing was in reach and if I had to reach for something I could swear at that moment my entire body would shatter.

  Regrettably, I was unable to hold his clear, angry gray eyes so I turned my head, looked into the house and realized there was really nowhere to go to escape him. Except one place. So I went there.

  I stomped across the room, my boots loud against the wood floors. Then I stomped up the stairs. Then I stomped to the armchair to see my bag was gone and I stopped, staring at the chair. Then I stomped to the closet, threw open the door and turned on the light inside. I saw my limited amount of clothes hanging next to Max’s, my sweaters tidily folded on the fitted shelves again next to Max’s and my shoes lined up on the tilted rods also next to Max’s. My suitcase was folded up and tucked into a corner. All of my clothes had been laundered and, those that needed it, ironed and so had Max’s.

  Caroline was good at her job.

  I turned out the light, slammed the door and stomped to the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet and saw my toiletries tucked neatly away. Then I opened a drawer in the vanity and saw my makeup. So I stomped back to the door, saw my robe was on a hook at the back and I felt like shouting with glee when I saw it. Then I slammed the door and locked it.

  Then I drew a bath and started the long, complicated procedure of giving myself a facial.

  What I wanted to do was leave Max’s presence, his house and the state in which he currently resided.

  Something else I wanted to do was walk downstairs and scream in his face.

  Since I didn’t have a car and since I was so angry I couldn’t trust my own mouth and since my Mom and Steve worshipped the ground Max walked on and they’d planned a romantic dinner a deux at The Rooster thus I couldn’t call them to come and get me, I was stuck with the facial.

  So I gave myself the longest facial in the history of me giving myself facials.

  The water in the tub was cool but even after the facial, I had not cooled down when I climbed out and toweled off. I lotioned my body like I’d be graded for the endeavor and then I wrapped myself in my robe, grabbed my clothes and boot
s and walked out.

  The house was lit downstairs and up with both lights illuminated on both nightstands but I could see and hear no Max.

  I dumped my clothes and boots in the closet and went in search of my underwear which I found in one of the drawers (yes, by Max’s). I snatched out a pair and put them on, pulled on my last pair of pajama bottoms and a shelf-bra camisole. The bottoms were cotton with tiny, retro daisies in sherbet colors against a raspberry sherbet background with the camisole being lime sherbet. I shrugged my robe back on and confiscated a pair of Max’s socks, the best ones I could find deciding I’d steal them just to tick him off. I yanked them on while hopping around foot to foot.

  Then I went across the room, slid open the doors to the TV, selected the most gruesome horror movie I could find even though I didn’t normally watch horror movies since they were horror and thus scared the dickens out of me, even the silly, bad ones which always made Charlie laugh his behind off when he used to force me to watch them with him and put it in the DVD player. Then I curled up on the bed, shoving most of the pillows behind me, tucking one to my front and I glued my eyes to the television set.

  My stomach reminded me I hadn’t had lunch and I silently told it to shut the hell up.

  The movie had scarcely started before a young woman was being chased through the woods, the blood of her hacked up boyfriend covering her barely clad body when I felt Max’s presence hit the loft.

  Although a part of me I was not listening to was glad he was there (simply because the movie was scaring the dickens out of me), I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the TV even as I felt the bed move when he sat on it and I heard one boot then the other hit the floor. The bed moved again and I stayed completely still and focused on the TV.

  Max slid in behind me, his arm went around my middle and he pulled me into his hard body. With a forceful jerk I pulled myself forward and with an equally forceful jerk he hauled me right back.

  I gave up and held myself completely still.

  “Turn off the movie, Duchess.”

  Oh, so now I was Duchess. Now, after he proved, like most – no all men (except Charlie and Steve) – that he was a world class jerk.

  I didn’t move nor speak.

  “Baby, turn it off.”

  Now I was baby. Nice.

  He sighed then he pressed closer to my back.

  “It’s been a shit day.”

  I stayed silent and watched the young, barely clad damsel come to a bloody end in the woods.

  “Curtis knew someone wanted him dead.”

  My body gave a small twitch at this news but I remained silent.

  “He had death threats.”

  I watched the screen and somehow, shortly after the nubile, young lady met her dastardly end, two other young, good-looking people were having somewhat raunchy sex in a cabin.

  This, I knew from my experiences horror movie watching with Charlie, did not bode well. Sex was usually the last thing anyone did in a horror movie before their life was snuffed out with an axe, hatchet, a glove made out of long, razor-sharp blades or a common kitchen knife.

  “Bitsy’s life has been threatened too.”

  Thoughts of gloves made out of razor-sharp blades flew from my head, my body jerked and my head swiveled around to look at him.

  “Curt didn’t tell anyone, he hired a PI,” Max continued.

  I broke my silence and asked, “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Mick’s set something up.”

  I thought of Bitsy alone in that big house, unable to move around except in a wheelchair.

  “I should go stay with her,” I declared to Max and his brows knit.

  “What?”

  I yanked out of his arm, rolled off the bed and threw down the pillow saying, “You’ll have to take me.”

  “I’m not takin’ you to Bitsy’s.”

  “Then I’ll call Arlene,” I stated as I threw open the door to the closet and turned on the light.

  “Nina, get in here.”

  I ignored him and walked to my chocolate colored cords on a hanger, pulling them off.

  “Nina,” Max called and when I continued to ignore him and examine my sweater selection on the shelves I heard him mutter, “Jesus.”

  I selected a cream colored, cable-knit but I barely pulled it from its position on the shelf before it was yanked out of my hand by Max. Then he tossed it on the shelf (now not folded which was a shame, Caroline was good at folding sweaters). Then, while I was still staring at the untidy sweater, my cords were yanked from my other hand and tossed on the floor.

  Belatedly I turned to look up at Max and exclaimed, “Hey!”

  He grabbed my hand, flipped the switch to the closet light as he pulled me out and then he closed the door.

  I twisted my hand in his and snapped over the dying screams of (undoubtedly) the young lovers on the television, “Let go.”

  “No, we’re gonna talk.”

  “I think you said enough earlier.”

  “Babe, I was pissed and I’ll admit I didn’t handle that very well.”

  I felt my eyes narrow as I repeated, “You didn’t handle that very well?”

  Max ignored that and moved on. “You also didn’t catch my meaning.”

  “Oh, no, you’re wrong. I caught it all right.”

  “No, I don’t think you did.”

  “Trust me, Max, I did.”

  “I’m not Niles.”

  That brought me up short and the only thing I could do was stare.

  Then I hissed, “What?”

  “I give a shit,” Max stated.

  “You give a shit about what?”

  “Everything.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to give me more detail,” I suggested and tried to twist my hand out of his again but he only used it to tug me closer and then his other hand lifted and his fingers curled in a way that could not be mistaken around the side of my neck. It wasn’t painful, not in the slightest, but it was firm and it sent a message.

  I stilled.

  “All right, Duchess, you want detail, here it is. Brody’s my best friend and I know he wouldn’t fuck me over and I’m takin’ a wild guess the amount of times you’ve been fucked over, you wouldn’t either. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t that, it wasn’t even you sittin’ in his lap, though, I’ll repeat, I didn’t like that one fuckin’ bit.”

  “That isn’t detail, Max,” I pointed out. “That’s you repeating yourself.”

  “It was you callin’ him ‘darling’.”

  I blinked and shook my head briskly, once.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You sat in his lap with your hands on him and you called him ‘darling’.”

  My blood started heating and I cried loudly, “He was upset about his sister!”

  “Yeah? Well, so am I.”

  “Yes, and if I remember, I call you darling too.”

  “Yeah, but you’re sleepin’ with me.”

  I pulled against his hand, sputtering, “I… you… I don’t get…”

  “That’s mine,” Max declared and I stilled my struggling and stared at him.

  Then I informed him, “You call other women ‘babe’ and ‘darlin’’ and –”

  “You’re my only Duchess.”

  He had me there.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I told him and his brows drew together dangerously.

  “Duchess doesn’t mean anything to you?”

  “No, me saying ‘darling’.”

  “It means something to me.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that,” I defended.

  “Yeah, so now I’m tellin’ you.”

  “Well, maybe you should tell me before you get angry at me for doing something I didn’t know you didn’t want me to do. And maybe when you get angry you’ll find a way to let me know you are without being a total jerk.”

  “And maybe you’ll cut me some slack when I got a friend with a murdered husband, a dead man writin’ me notes, a siste
r who’s been raped and we found face down in a river, a new girlfriend whose Dad’s a dick and whose fiancé is an asshole and both of ‘em are in town and a future that means the end of my mountain as I know it.”

  “And maybe you’ll cut me some slack when I’ve broken up with my fiancé and I just found out he’s an asshole and he’s in town and so is my dick of a Dad. Not to mention, a girl I’ve come to care about tries to commit suicide like my brother did. And, on top of all that, I’ve decided to up stakes again and move to a different country again and gamble on a man I barely know but who is annoying, impossible and can be a jerk. I’ve got to find a job and buy a big lawyer desk so people will take me seriously and my mother and Steve are so excited about all of this, they’re already planning to park their new RV beside your house and use your bathroom and kitchen!”

  I ended this on a shout, so absorbed in my tirade I didn’t see his expression change. When I noticed his eyes had gone warm and his face had gentled, I saw my mistake immediately but had no time to backtrack. Max dropped my hand but wound his arm around my waist and started shuffling me back toward the bed.

  “Max –”

  “I knew somethin’ changed this morning.”

  “Max –”

  “You’re movin’ here.”

  “Max –”

  “You’re buyin’ a lawyer desk.”

  “Max –” I stopped talking this time because I fell back to the bed and Max fell on me.

  Then his mouth went to my neck.

  “Get off me!” I snapped.

  “Nope,” he said against my neck then his lips trailed up and his teeth nipped my ear.

  I shivered.

  Then I cried, “Off! We’re not done arguing.”

  “We can pick it up after we celebrate,” Max said in my ear and I shivered again.

  Then I pushed at his shoulders and bucked my body, neither to any avail.

  “We’re not going to celebrate. I’m changing my mind. I’m only coming back to look in on Mindy, have a beer with Arlene at The Dog, stop by Bitsy’s and have a latte and do a bit of shopping. Then I’m going right back to England.”

  Max’s mouth came to mine and he said, “Cotton’ll be pissed, you don’t make him a fish pie.”

  “Then I’ll carve some time out for Cotton, now get off.”