The Gamble: A Novel

by Xavier Neal

  The new information cracks my jaw.

  “You're not the only one who knows how to play games, Luca.”

  Maybe this is all a game to her, not to fucking me. Not giving me a chance. Maybe it's its own fucked up bet. The idea she's toying with me while I'm toying with her only makes this entire situation hotter. Warren is right. I am pretty fucked up. Then again, if he were neglected by Andrew Larson he'd probably be similar shades of the same twisted fucked black and blue. Maybe that thought isn't so terrible. Maybe I like it because if Alexxa is fucking with me in a similar fashion, we're even more alike than I thought. Even better teammates.

  She gives me a playful wink. “You lose.”

  “That's the only time you'll ever get to say that.”

  Because Luca Larson doesn't lose. I just find other opportunities to take.

  Alexxa

  “It's so weird to me that you can cuss people out in English and Spanish,” I sigh as I slide my hands into my back jean pockets. “I mean the guy in the BMW who stole our parking space deserved it for being a dick, but it's still weird.”

  Luca chuckles and tosses another ball into the hoop. “Why's that weird?”

  “One, because I'm fairly certain skank is your first language. Not English.” His warm laugh encourages me to continue. “And two, because I rarely hear you speak Spanish. In all the time I've known you I've heard everything from jock trash to drunk past the point of gibberish yet only hear you speak Spanish every...I don't know. Blue moon?”

  Jimmy, a student with over-sized glasses, comes around the corner whining, “Miss Alexxa, Mr. Luca, I haven't won any tickets.”

  Looks identical to the cartoon character Jimmy Neutron, except he has glasses. Yes, weird hair curl included.

  Kindly I say, “Well that happens sometimes, Jimmy. It's not a big deal.”

  “It's a huge deal,” he continues to whimper. “Everyone else won tickets and they're all buying bouncy balls and I want a bouncy ball. They glow in the dark!”

  Before I have a chance to explain calmly how life isn't always fair, Luca sinks the last shot in the hole, leans down, rips off the strand of tickets he won and offers them up. “Get the best one you can.”

  Jimmy gasps and pushes his falling glasses up. “You sure, Mr. Luca?”

  “Yeah, if there's extra get me one too.”

  “Yeah! Yeah! Okay! Yeah!” He says in a rushed voice before running off with the tickets.

  His simple gesture has me smiling wide. Another thing about Luca I like. Most people never peg him for a fan of kids. I mean come on. They're whiny. They're needy. They're clingy. They're basically like one drunk hook up you can't get rid of for at least 18 years and he loves the shit out of them. Not just the after school kids either. I've seen him coo at babies, crawl around with toddlers, race preschoolers, and there's always this pure joy in his eyes while doing it. When it comes to kids he never hesitates putting his own needs aside to make sure they're taken care. Appreciated. Loved.

  “I usually only speak Spanish away from my ma' when I'm really pissed off or really turned on,” Luca resumes our conversation as we stroll towards another set of the kids who are playing Skee Ball. “Most of the time neither of those things happen.”

  Baffled by the sentence I snap, “Luca you have sex more than a congressman who owns a third of the escort company he uses.”

  “So?”

  “So you just said when you’re turned on and I've never heard you speak Spanish to a chick. And I've heard you say some really dirty things.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “Do anything for ya?”

  “Made sure my gag reflexes were working.”

  Luca rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest, eyes scouting for all kids in our care. “I said really turned on. It doesn't happen that often. I can be turned on and not really turned on.”

  “That doesn't make any sense.”

  “Sure it does.”

  “It doesn't.”

  I'm not wrong, right? It doesn't make any sense.

  “It's not like I think about it. It just happens. You know my mother's Mexican, well she's also fluent in Spanish, but growing up my father was hell bent on me learning English as my first language. Ma' taught me Spanish too, but once she realized it was making it harder for me to learn to read, she dialed it back.”

  “You had trouble learning to read?”

  He nods. “Touch of dyslexia and a brain constantly translating from English to Spanish and Spanish to English slowed down the process for me. It's the reason I don't really like to read now.”

  Warren is my book bro. Just assumed Luca didn't like to read because he was a stereotypical jock. It's kinda strange how you spend all the time in the world with someone and still don't know everything about them.

  “Anyway, after a while she mainly encouraged me to stick to English, but like some sort of reflex it would still come out when I was too passionate about something. Typically sports.”

  His love of sports is intertwined with love for children. They go hand in hand, which is why he's trying to start his own after school and weekend based sports camp. He wants it to be like a child care facility but only it emphasizes on sports. Geared towards school aged children and higher. I've seen bits of the proposal. It's a genius plan.

  “And then how often in the bedroom?”

  “Just once,” he informs, attention zoning in on a student.

  “Just once? What was she like triple breasted?”

  Luca tilts his head as he imagines the sight. After a beat he shakes his head. “No. It was just the first time I had ever had it. Slipped out.”

  The conversation ends and he strolls over to defuse a possible fight about to break out. I turn the opposite direction to do a round of checking up on the kids who are playing arcade games. Most are enjoying themselves and getting along, but seeing Clare all alone reminds me our assistance is needed to help create friendships as much as it is to help keep them from fist fighting.

  “Come on Clare,” I call to her a few steps away. “Let's race on that one.”

  Her eyes light up. “Me?”

  “Yeah. Think you can beat me?”

  She starts to respond when Linda, another girl the same age, rushes to my side. “I call winner!”

  Seeing Clare's expression grow brighter, I swing into the next part of plan, and pull out my phone. “Oh. Shoot. I have to go check on the buffet tickets for lunch. Linda you play against Clare this round and I'll catch winner.”

  Linda shrugs “Okay! Come on, Clare. My brother has a version of this game at home and like never lets me play. He's so mean.”

  I turn back the direction I came and scan the rest of the students once more. Strolling away, I decide it's probably a good idea to actually check on the lunch plan and make sure there's enough space for all of our students. After talking to one of the managers and prepping the area, I text Luca to begin the round up process. As they begin to flock in, I take count, and watch the tables fill up.

  “Girls, wash your hands and get food,” I instruct leaning against the edge of the booth Luca and I will share.

  We let them eat lunch together and supervise from a distance. Trust me, it's healthy to let them practice social behaviors without heavy interference all the time, plus breathing room from them is necessary for us too.

  Marcus, one of the older students who has developed an asshole attitude over the last year calls out, “Why do they get to go first?”

  “'Cause it's the gentleman thing to do,” Luca replies flopping down in the seat beside me.

  “Who cares about being a gentleman?”

  “You should.”

  Marcus rolls his head around in bored expression.

  In a dropped voice I say, “He's like a mini you.”

  Luca looks up at me not amused. “He is not.”

  “Exactly like you. Loud mouthed. Sports loving. Girl chasing. He's just younger and shorter.”

  “I'm not loud.”

&nb
sp; My face scrunches.

  Funny how that's the first thing he took from the comparison.

  “Most dudes love sports-”

  “Warren doesn't.”

  “Warren also hasn't seen his testicles this side of the decade,” he sharply continues to snap in a whisper. “And there's nothing wrong with likin' chicks. However, I know when to treat one with respect and when to tell her to drop to her knees and call me daddy.”

  I wanna argue. I wanna yell at him, say he's full of shit, and how that sentence alone proves he's some new age caveman, but I honestly can't. He does have boundaries. He's never crossed the line with me. Sure, when he gets drunk he gets a little looser with his hands and words, but he's never seriously treated me like the other tramps who've managed to become a part of the whore parade that marches around his apartment. He's playful yet protective. I typically appreciate it. Except for when he tries to cock block like he did last week with the hockey player who hit on me. Despite Luca's best efforts we still went out. Total bust though. Refused to sleep with him on the first date, so he's probably not gonna call. Just as well. He had some serious BO and an under appreciation for hot wings.

  Once the girls have returned from the bathroom and started grabbing pizza, I send the boys off to do the same thing.

  Luca offers, “Want me to grab you a plate?”

  “You don't mind?”

  He stands and says, “Of course not. Two slices of pep, one slice with mushrooms, one bread stick and two scoops of mac.”

  “Hearing you list it makes me feel fat.”

  “You love carbs.” He bumps me playfully. “Nothing wrong with loving the things that are bad for you...”

  Luca's comment causes me to cock a grin.

  He's not as bad for me as he thinks he is. Wait. No. That came out wrong.

  A few minutes later just as the two of us are starting to eat, one of our older campers, mopes over clutching his plate with an unhappy look. “Can I sit at this table, Miss Alexxa?”

  I stop the bite I was about to have. “Sure Andy. Can't find anywhere else to sit?”

  He frowns. “Um...yeah. Kinda.”

  Andy prepares to slide in beside me when Luca extends a hand to stop me. He lowers his voice, “Marcus won't let you sit at his table. If I'm right just nod.”

  He nods.

  “You don't wanna sit with the younger kids because he always calls you a baby, right?”

  Andy slowly nods.

  In a shocked whisper, I snap, “He's picking on you?”

  Andy mumbles, “It's not a big deal.”

  “Yeah you can sit with us.” Luca takes a bite of a breadstick. After he swallows, he raises his voice, “I can't believe I have to tell your mom you got caught kissing some girl from another school.”

  His eyes expand wide and the gasps from behind him start.

  “Who goes on a field trip and acts like that?”

  What...the hell...is he doing?

  Luca makes sure his tone is stern. “You know, I don't even think I can trust you to sit anywhere else.”

  “He can sit over here,” Marcus volunteers, his table the one directly across from us.

  Andy tries to refrain from smiling while Luca shrugs. “I guess that's alright. I can still keep an eye on you from here. Go sit over there with Marcus. Try not to kiss any more girls.” His voice whispers though his lips don't move, “When he asks, her lips were soft, sticky, and tasted like bubble gum. I caught you right after that.”

  He nods rapidly and plays along, “Sorry again, Mr. Luca.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Luca shoos him away. “Go eat.”

  Andy turns around and walks away to Marcus's table. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him settle in the table immediately being bombarded with questions. Within a matter of a few bites they're laughing together and welcoming him as if it's where he's always belonged.

  Okay so....that was kinda cool.

  I smile. “That was very sweet of you.”

  He gives me a slight shrug. “No one likes to be left out.”

  “He could've sat with us.”

  “And never lived that down. Marcus is a slick kind of bully. Everyone wants his approval. I built Andy a bridge and he just needed to cross it.” Luca raises the pitch in his voice, “They probably won't end up like braiding each other's hair or sharing showers...”

  And there goes his sweet points.

  He returns it to normal, “because they're dudes, but at least now he'll have some sort of respect to get him through the rest of summer.”

  Impressed by not only his logic but the slick execution I reach for one of the wings off of his plate. “You do know that's not what all girls are like, right?”

  He licks the sauce off his fingers. “Of course. I've met you.”

  Very much so hate having my hair braided and with four sisters there was always someone determined to fucking do it.

  Between bites I casually ask, “Do you remember your first kiss?”

  “Yeah. It was my best friend's sister.”

  Shouldn't even be remotely surprised. Yet. I am.

  “Really Luca?”

  He laughs lightly and snips, “You asked.”

  “I did. But seriously? You're best friend's sister? How old were you? Twelve?”

  “Ten.”

  Baffled, I shake my head. “Ten? How old was she?”

  “Thirteen.”

  I lean back against the booth and wait for the story.

  This has to be like a junior version of a Mrs. Robinson story.

  Luca wipes his mouth and casually explains, “I woke up in the middle of the night to pee. She was on her way out of the bathroom, I was on my way in, and kinda just went for it. She kissed back. It was quick. Little tongue. Wasn't a huge deal.”

  Unable to help myself I snap, “Story of your life, huh? Just going after whatever it is you want.”

  A sly smile slides on his face. “I'm a Larson. We always go after what we want.”

  “What does that even mean? I'm a Larson.”

  “My father...he...taught me from an early age to set goals and reach them. Failure was not an option. You needed to do whatever it took to make your goals come true. Dreams are simply wishes of the lazy. Goals are achieved by those who are diligent. I come from a long line of men who believe in perseverance and never stopping until they get what they want.”

  “Do you always get what you want?”

  “Eventually.”

  With a roll of my eyes and bite of my pizza, I shake my head. “My father's never really shelled out advice. My mom either. I guess with five daughters trying to instill any one belief in all of us probably would've been a lost cause. We were given more general guidelines, like follow your heart wherever it takes you. You know, Disney's brand of bull.”

  “I'd say the most important lesson I've ever learned was taught to me by both my parents.”

  “What was is it?”

  “The only thing standing in the way between what you have and what you want is you.”

  Wise words.

  Luca's attention shifts to his phone he's pulled out. “Speaking of king of dicks...”

  Quickly I deny, “I don't wanna see a dick pic.”

  He laughs. “No. No. It's just my bank alerting me that my father's just sent me part of my allowance.”

  “Impressive you're in your late twenties and still get an allowance. Do you still have to ask permission to go to the dance too?”

  He shoots me a low middle finger. “I like to think of it as penance for all the shitty parenting over the years or better yet, lack thereof.”

  “He wasn't around much?”

  Luca opens his mouth to answer yet something stops him.

  This is actually the longest we've ever talked about his family. Over the course of three years I know more about the guys he plays sports with than where he came from. We're talking bare basics here. His parents are divorced. He's an only child. He's half white and half Mexican. Up until toda
y, I didn't know he grew up learning two languages, damn sure never knew how hard it was for him to read, and most importantly, had no clue he wasn't close to his father. Warren on the other hand? I could draw you a fucking family tree with three less than interesting facts about all of them.

  “What about you?” He changes the subject. “What was your first kiss like?”