Bohemian Law (Traveler Book 1)

by Misty Walker

  An hour and a half later, I walk up to where the seven families in our band are located. We’re set up in an abandoned field that was going to be a housing development, but the owner didn’t raise enough funds, so it just sits here. We’ve been here for a couple weeks, but in Reno for almost a year. It’s the longest we have ever stayed anywhere. The older the parents get, the less they want to relocate and Reno has been good to us.

  Gamblers have given me a jackpot of easy scams and the housing boom has given the men steady day labor work. The winters are a little cold, but all in all, I’ve enjoyed this area. I’ll be sad to go when the time comes.

  I trudge up the steps to our home. Mom welcomes me. “Hey there.” She’s sitting on the couch, folding laundry. I forgot it was laundromat day. I should have been here instead of trying to get Lawrence to forgive me. Honestly, what did it matter anyway? Just because I’m attracted to the guy, it doesn’t change the fact I’m engaged.

  “Hi, Mom, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help with laundry.”

  “It’s okay. I had your sisters.” She grabs a stack of folded pants and puts them into one of the many plastic tubs we own. There isn’t a lot of storage in these RVs and we’ve had to learn to get creative with our space. “Where were you anyway?”

  “Oh, I went to pawn a few things I picked up at the casino.” I hate lying, but there’s no way she’d understand why I did what I did today. My parents don’t like us girls to go out into the world alone. They’re lenient with me, but being alone with a man who is not our husband is strictly forbidden.

  “Did you get some good prices?” she asks.

  “Prices?” I tilt my head at her.

  “For the things you lifted?” She quirks an eyebrow. I need to stop thinking about Law.

  “Oh, my usual pawn shop was getting suspicious, so I scouted new ones today.” Mostly, the men make money the legal way, well, legal for us since they use falsified IDs. I don’t want to take Dad’s or my brother’s money, so I get my money running cons. Most of the women we travel with stick with the traditional rules, bearing and raising children, doing the housework, and cooking. But some of us prefer to take a more active role in our finances and are allowed to do so. We’re lucky because a lot of Romani we have run into along the way don’t even allow the women to leave camp, let alone run cons.

  “You don’t sound like yourself. Anything happen today?” Mom sits down next to me.

  “I’m just tired. Maybe I better lie down for a bit.” Today was a failure of epic proportions, and I just want to sleep it off. I stand up and move to climb the ladder to the loft I share with my sisters when Mom’s voice stops me.

  “Wen said he’s coming around for you tonight. Indiana will chaperone.” I lower my head in disappointment. Going out on dates for women of marrying age or engaged means chaperones. It’s such an archaic tradition. A man can take a roll in the hay with anyone before marriage, but a woman’s virtue is all she has, so it better stay protected. Yet another reason no one can know how I spent my day.

  “Okay, I’ll just lie down for a bit and then I’ll get ready.” I climb up the ladder and thankfully find the large bed empty. Crawling into the corner, I curl up into the fetal position. Ever since the engagement party, my mind has been so mixed up. My whole life I knew I’d have to marry within our culture, but now that it’s happening, I’m getting anxious. Like time is running out for me to be me. Soon I’ll be a wife and then a mother and it will all be over. I’ll never have a chance to just be me again.

  Now I’ve met Law, and despite how uptight he is, I’m attracted to him. An attraction I haven’t had with anyone before. The way he watches me, the lust in his eyes. No one has ever looked at me like that. But it’s more than that. Law challenges me and wants more for me.

  Wen is a good guy, but he’ll never allow me to be me. He wants a meek and oppressed wife. Someone who will make him the center of their world. I want passion and arguments and make-ups, not someone who wants to control me and expects me to be seen, not heard. I want a man who will try to take charge and then after a raucous fight and riotous make-up sex, he can give in and let me have my way. Something tells me Law would be just that man.

  After letting my mind wander down paths it shouldn’t for a while, I give up on a nap and climb down to get ready for my date. I know this date will probably include a walk somewhere and then ice cream, like every date we’ve gone on. I wish we could go back to doing the things we did when we were kids. Finding cows to tip, stealing tractors and cutting obscene images into their crops, loitering in stores and tuning the display TVs to porn before running away. That’s the fun I want Wen and I to have again. Maybe then I could try to turn my feelings into romantic ones. But instead, he brings me flowers and chocolates, takes me for moonlit walks and ice cream. None of the things I want to be doing.

  I go to the bathroom and put my hair in a messy bun on top of my head. It’s hot and there are no electric hookups in this abandoned field, therefore no air conditioning. My skin is dewy with a sheen of sweat, so I don’t bother with makeup, knowing it will just slide off my face.

  I brush my teeth and change into an olive-green tank dress. I leave all my jewelry. The more gold and bling, the better. Stepping outside, I notice Wen and Dad talking. I walk over and their conversation ends, leaving me to believe they were talking about me.

  “Thea, you look nice,” Wen compliments and looks at Dad before briefly brushing a kiss on my cheek. I give them both a tight smile.

  “So, what are you talking about?” I demand, more than question. If you’ve got a reason to talk about someone, you’ve got a reason to say it to their face.

  “Just discussing plans for after you’re married, love,” Dad says.

  “You think the other half of the marriage party should know about her plans?” I know I’m being bitchy, but it’s not the first time people have tried to make plans for me and I hate how it makes me feel like a child who doesn’t know enough about the world to take an active role in their own lives.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Dad grunts out and walks away.

  “Why do you keep talkin’ to my dad about our plans?” I throw my verbal dagger at Wen.

  “I have to talk about it to someone.” Wen storms off toward his family’s trailer, but I’m not having it. I know we haven’t made definitive decisions about after we’re married, but we just barely got engaged. We have time.

  Before he can get to the steps, I get in front of him. “What we do after we get married is up to us, not my dad. Even if I’m not ready to talk about it, you have no right to talk to him before me.”

  “That’s what you aren’t understanding, Thea,” he spits out. “It’s up to me. Not you. You will be my wife and the mother of my kids, not my equal. You want to gallivant all over the city and steal a few things here and there so you can feel you are contributing? I’ll allow it. At least until we have kids. Then it’s up to me to make money for our family.” He steps around me and opens the door, but before going in he says, “You’re my wife, it’s just how it is.” Then he closes the door behind him, leaving me dumbfounded.

  My eyes well with tears and I decide I can’t be here right now. Fuck our date. I walk toward the main road, telling no one where I’m going. If they’re all going to treat me like a child, then I’ll act like one. I jump on the bus to the city, flopping down onto a bench. I need to think and to do that, I need space from all of them.

  I watch out the window while my mind spins. Wen has never been blunt like this before. He’s always included me in plans, or at least tried to before I changed the subject. It always felt like we had tons of time to make decisions. Last year when our parents told us we would marry, I wasn’t shocked. We’re in the same band, near the same age, and get along with each other. Back then, we had a whole year before we were even to be engaged, so every time Wen brought up our future, it seemed too early to talk about.

  I get off on a random stop, not really caring where I go. Ev
ening turned to night, and without conscious thought, I enter The Grand Royals Casino. It really is a nice place. Grand water fountains, real trees, and planter boxes filled with plants and flowers decorate the inside and huge skylights let in sun or like right now, moonlight. It makes you feel you’re still outside. If it weren’t for the sounds of the slot machines and the stale cigarette smoke smell, you might be able to trick yourself to believe you’re in a garden.

  I’m sure Law has already gone home for the day, so I have no reason to go to his office again. Even if he were here, he wouldn’t want to see me, so I keep wandering. I didn’t bring my purse and I only had a couple dollars tucked into my bra, which I used for the bus, so I have no money to sit and eat.

  It’s then I see a very intoxicated man tripping his way down the rows of slot machines. Occasionally he picks one to sit in front of and throws a twenty in. When he loses, he moves on. Every step he takes is unsteady, and he sloshes an amber liquid all down the side of the glass and onto the marble tiles. He would make the perfect target. I might get some dinner money after all.

  The man is tall and thin. He has a large nose, a long forehead, and almost no chin to speak of. He might welcome the attention of a young pretty girl. I follow him around until he picks a Wheel of Fortune slot machine. He sits down and I sit on the stool next to him. He’s having a hard time lining the cash up with the slot, so I reach across him and put my hand on top of his.

  “Here, let me help.” I flash him a flirty smile and put the twenty-dollar bill in.

  “Thanks, loung yady,” he slurs and I fake coy and look away, still smiling.

  “I’m not that young,” I say.

  “Prolly too young fffor me.” His head sways as he presses the max bet button. He wins double his money. I jump off the stool and cheer for him. He eyes my small chest as I bounce and I know at that moment, I have him.

  “Yay! Look! You won!” I cheer, way too enthusiastically.

  “You’re my lood guck charm,” he says, putting his arm around my waist. Being this close, I smell the stench of liquor seeping from his pores.

  “Maybe you need me to stick close for a while.” I throw him a wink.

  “I thhhink you’re right.” He grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap. I fight the cringe and pretend to screech in delight.

  “What’s your name?” I bat my eyes and lean in close.

  “Stanley.” His voice is lust filled and I think this might be my easiest target yet. I slip off his lap and grab his hand, pushing the cash out button on the machine.

  “Let’s play more!” I jump up and down, allowing what little tits I have to bounce again.

  “Yeah, okay,” Stanley slurs.

  For the next half an hour, Stanley loses close to two hundred dollars, which was all his cash. I talk him into going to the cash machine and pulling out five hundred more. The machine spits it out and I grab it, confusing Stanley. But then I tuck it into my bra, watching his eyes follow the money down. I grab his hand and pull him back onto the casino floor. Like a good boy, he follows.

  When he’s settled at a machine, I pull out a hundred and put it in the slot. He presses max bet and starts losing, again. This guy has got to be the unluckiest gambler ever. He looks around for a waitress, but there are none. I realize this is my out. Kissing him on the cheek, I whisper, “I’m gonna go find a waitress. You look thirsty.” I let my lips linger near his mouth a minute before pulling away.

  “Okay, order me a whiskey.” He’s sobering a bit, so the timing is perfect.

  “Sure, sugar. Be right back.” I wave and blow him a kiss. I can feel his eyes following my swaying hips as I walk away. When I’m certain I’m out of his sight, I bolt to the other side of the casino and take a seat at the café. Pulling the cash from my bra, I count the four hundred dollars still left and order myself a strawberry Italian soda. I deserve a little treat after tolerating that man for so long.

  I should be nervous to sit here and people watch for a bit, but I’m not. This casino is at least one hundred thousand square feet and with hundreds of people milling about, Stanley couldn’t find me if he tried.

  I stand and leave a couple bucks for the tip and walk in the exit’s direction. That’s when I hear a commotion behind me. I turn to look and motherfucker! There’s Stanley, surprisingly sober, with two security guards flanking him.

  “That’s her! That’s the girl who took my money!” He’s pointing at me, which makes everyone in the crowd look in my direction. I turn to run, but there is a security guard coming at me from behind too. With nowhere to run, I slump my shoulders and look at the ground, wondering how the hell I will get out of this one.

  I’m scrubbing the kitchen sink with bleach when my phone rings. Rinsing off my hands and then drying them on a paper towel, I pull my phone from my pocket. It’s the casino. Being a finance guy, I don’t receive after hours calls. Ever.

  “This is Lawrence.” I’ve often been told a friendly “hello” is a more polite way to answer the phone, but I think keeping things formal and impersonal is professional.

  “Mr. Packwood, this is Chris Stevens, head of security.” His voice is clipped and my mind spins. Why would security be calling me?

  “Yes, Mr. Stevens. I know who you are. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, we had a bit of a situation this evening. We had a woman steal some money from one of our guests. She has no ID and refuses to give us her name. We would just call the cops and let them deal with her, but she insists she’s a good friend of yours and asked us to call you.” He doesn’t even have to tell me her name. I know who it is and the anger I felt toward her from earlier resurfaces.

  “Let me guess, wavy brown hair, gold eyes, tiny frame?” I need not confirm my suspicions. I’m already pocketing my wallet and keys, heading to the garage.

  “Uh, her hair is in a bun, but it is brown and she has really unusual golden eyes.” The security guy covers the receiver and I can hear his muffled question asking if her hair is wavy.

  “Chris? It’s fine. I know who she is. I’ll be down there in fifteen.” I pull out of my driveway as my Bluetooth connects and I suddenly hear a string of curses, followed by, “get your fucking hands off me!” Then there’s a loud oof sound.

  “Ma’am, ma’am! Calm down, we just have to check you for weapons before we can take the cuffs off.” Chris sounds stressed, a reaction I’m well acquainted with.

  “Chris?” I call out, loud enough he can hear me over the disorder in the background.

  “Leave her in the cuffs.” A smile forms on my face at the image of a spitting mad Theodora, hands chained behind her back.

  “Sir?” Confusion fills Chris’ voice.

  “The cuffs, Chris. Don’t take them off. I’m not sure what she’s capable of.” I lie, because I know she wouldn’t hurt anyone, at least not physically.

  “Uh, okay. We will just let her stew then.” I can hear the smirk in his tone.

  “Be there soon.” I end the call and refocus on the road. I’m confused at how close I am to the casino when it’s only been minutes. My speedometer shows I’m going twenty miles an hour over the limit. I never speed. I know the statistics of high speed crashes and therefore I follow all posted speed limit signs. I slow down and look around me for any sign of flashing lights to give me a ticket. There are none, so my racing heart slows.

  What is it about this girl? She’s done nothing but bring chaos to my life. I should have told Chris to call the cops, but she has no identification. She doesn’t exist. I don’t know what kind of trouble she can get in because of that, but I don’t want her to find out this way. It’s better she finds a way to get documented herself. If she wants that.

  I park in my assigned spot and speed walk into the security entrance. My access card allows me into whatever room I want to be in. It’s a perk of being one of the big bosses.

  “Where is she?” The security guard at the desk is typing away, not even bothering to address me. He points to the hallway quic
kly and goes back to typing. I walk down the short hallway and hear screams. Found her.

  “Get these fucking things off me now! I didn’t even do anything! That bastard gave me the money! I earned it too, keeping him entertained all night.”

  I listen from just outside the door. Theodora is hissing and spitting all the excuses in the world. I briefly wonder how she entertained the man she stole from, but when I feel a touch of jealousy, I shake it off. She’s nothing to me. Entering the room, I see Thea on a metal chair, hands behind her back. Hair has fallen from her bun, framing her face in loose curls. She’s wearing a thin dress that shows every line of her feminine shape. The low-cut neckline shows the swell of those breasts I haven’t been able to forget. I swallow and refocus on why I’m here in the first place.

  “Thank God you’re here.” Chris drags a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “She’s all yours.” He walks out the door to the room, leaving us alone.

  “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Trouble?” It’s an apt nickname and I decide to keep it. I sit down in the chair next to her. She doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t even look at me, so I gently pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to see me.

  When our eyes meet, my stomach drops. She has tears welling in her eyes and if I know anything about this girl, it’s she doesn’t break easily. This whole situation must have been more than she’s equipped to bear. I drop my hand from her chin and stand up. Opening the door, I call out to Chris, “Can I get the keys to the cuffs?”

  Chris rises from the chair he was perched in next to the first security guy and pulls the keys from his pocket, handing them to me.

  “Release her at your own risk,” he mutters under his breath. I want to stand up for her and make him understand why she is the way she is, but it’s not my place. Theodora and I aren’t even friends. I close the door to the room and hold up the key. She stands up and turns around. The second the cuffs click open, her arms wrap tightly around my neck. The cuffs fall to the floor and I just stand there awkwardly, hands by my sides.