Bad Beat

by Carolina Mac

  He lay down on the top of the duvet and held me in his arms until I went back to sleep. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

  “Mmm, coffee,” I said, padding barefoot into the kitchen in my nightshirt.

  “Your nose is working fine,” he said with a grin. “Want some breakfast?”

  I grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Coffee’s all I need, right now. I’ve been giving more thought to the little talk we had yesterday, and I’m anxious to get started. You know I wasn’t kidding, right?”

  “I believed you were serious at the time, but women change their minds sometimes. At least, that’s the rumor.”

  “Not this one. I’ve got a stubborn streak a mile wide.”

  “I’ve heard that mentioned in certain circles.”

  “You have a beautiful smile, Jackson, I’m surprised you haven’t been snagged by some hot looking babe by now.”

  “I’m saving myself for the right woman.”

  “Have you met her?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He winked at me and my heart flip-flopped.

  I was about to ask who the mystery woman was when the doorbell rang. “Oh, my god. That’s Stacey and the cleaning girls, and I’m not even dressed. Angel ran past me into the foyer to greet them and I caught up in time to let them in.

  “Portia, so nice to see you up and around,” Stacey said, giving me a little hug. “Anything special you want done?”

  “No, the usual is fine. The house always smells so fresh when you’re finished. I’m going to run up and get dressed so you can finally do the bedroom.” I dashed upstairs, threw on jeans and a tank top, brushed my teeth and my hair and smeared on a little lip gloss.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Jackson had retreated to the patio with Angel and his ever-present cell phone. I poured a fresh coffee and joined them. The morning was already warm and the weekend promised to be a hot one. No rain in sight. “Think I’ll tackle the market after coffee,” I said. “Then we can spend the afternoon on poker, if you want to.”

  “I do want to,” said Jackson still staring at his cell.

  “Sounds like a but coming.”

  “But first, I have a couple of errands to do and I’d like to get them done while the cleaners are here in the house with you. Would you mind if I drove you to the market later?”

  “Sounds important. Problems at the club?” Jackson’s face was expressionless and he didn’t bother to answer. No point in pushing it, I knew they couldn’t discuss club business outside of the membership and never with a woman. Just another of their stupid rules. Was there an actual rule book or did they make them up as they went along? Were all the bike clubs the same? Was there something like the Harley Magna Carta?

  Jackson texted rapidly and I was betting he wasn’t typing happy words.

  “I can do the shopping myself. I’m not an invalid, although I guess I appeared to be the past two months.”

  “Don’t…” Jackson barked the word, then caught himself and lowered his voice to the tone he reserved for me. “Don’t go until I get back.”

  His tone caught me off guard and I shivered. “Why not?”

  “Umm…you haven’t driven in two months and I want to be with you just in case.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “In case I drive into the side of the grocery store?” I giggled.

  “This isn’t funny.” Jackson wasn’t smiling. “I have to keep you safe and I take my job seriously. I’ll go with you. There’s no other choice.”

  I nodded seeing the distress I was causing him. “Okay.”

  Keep me safe from what or whom? Should I ask?

  He exited through the garage and I heard the rumble when his bike started up. While he was gone attending to god-knows-what dilemma, I opened all the mail and when I finished the top of the desk was visible. My phone rang and I jumped. “Jackson?”

  “I’m on my way. Has Stacey left?”

  “She’s loading her van now.”

  “Lock the door behind her. I’ll be there in five.”

  “Okay.”

  He’s scaring me.

  When Jackson returned Angel and I were playing ball in the yard. He joined me on the patio and lit up a smoke. No mention of what he’d been up to all morning. “I’ve never been to Vegas and I’ve always wanted to go. Now that we’re talking about it, I’m getting pumped and nervous at the same time.” Jackson paced back and forth on the patio with a butt in his hand. “How much of a bankroll do you think I would need in Vegas?”

  He’s saying the words, but his heart isn’t in it. What’s going on?

  “Honestly, I have no clue, but that’s a question we don’t even need to worry about. Money isn’t one of our concerns.”

  “It’s not?” Jackson raised an eyebrow as he ground his butt under his boot. “Always been one of mine. I don’t even have a fuckin’ job.”

  “You do have a job, and you’re excellent at what you do. You just weren’t getting paid for it, but now we’re going to fix that.”

  “The boss wouldn’t want that. Won’t happen.”

  “We’ll work it out. Don’t stress yourself, Jackson.”

  “How long are you planning on staying in Vegas?”

  “Depends on how much we like it, I guess.”

  “I can’t be gone for more than a couple of weeks, but it might be good for you to have a change of scenery for a while.”

  Does he want to leave me in Vegas? Interesting.

  “The club can’t survive without you for more than a couple of weeks?”

  Jackson paused and gave me a cold stare. “Fraid not.”

  I changed the subject. “Want to drive me to the market?”

  “Sure do.” He grinned. When Jackson smiled, he transformed into a different person. The tough gang-leader persona faded into the background and the genuine man appeared. At least that’s what I wanted to believe—the sweet Jackson was the real Jackson—not the other way around.

  The Hummer had been sitting on the driveway in the sun. “It’s like an oven in here,” he said as he turned the air on full blast. By the time we reached the market I was able to breathe. It was a different story inside the store and I secretly wished for a sweater.

  As we walked up and down the aisles filling the cart, I watched Jackson. “What do you like to eat? What’s your favorite food?” The squeaky wheel on the cart grated on my last nerve.

  “I loved it when you made steak and potatoes on the barbecue for all of us. That’s the best food I’ve ever had in my life.”

  “In your life?”

  “Yeah, my Mom died when I was nine and my dad raised me. We mostly ate stuff out of cans, or made sandwiches, he never cooked any food from scratch except maybe eggs. How about you? What’s your favorite?”

  “Hmm, I think maybe cheeseburgers with fried onions,” I said. “And that sparks a thought in my feeble brain. Let’s go to Buck’s for a beer tonight. You must be going stir crazy.”

  “A little. I wouldn’t mind going to Buck’s with you.”

  Jackson loaded the groceries into the back of the Hummer and jumped into the driver’s seat. He looked over at me and heaved a big sigh, “You don’t know how relieved I am that you were able to get out of bed.”

  “You were my lifeline.” I rubbed my hand down his arm. “Let’s stop at the beer store. I feel like celebrating.”

  “I second that,” he said with a grin. He seemed less tense than he had earlier in the day.

  After we unloaded the groceries and the beer, I made some smoked meat sandwiches for lunch and took them out to the patio table with glasses of cold beer. “I found a deck of cards in the kitchen drawer. You can give me a lesson out here.”

  Jackson opened the pack of cards. “See this little card in the front of the pack, it tells you the order of the poker hands, and what beats what. See, a straight beats two pair, and on up the ladder. You might need to look at this while we play to get the hang of it.”

  We munched on our sandwiches while Jackson dealt out
hand after hand and taught me the basics of Texas Hold-em.

  “The dealer gives you two cards face down, then there is a betting round. The best cards to call the blind with are high cards—ten and up or a pair. Next, the dealer lays down three cards in the middle of the table. This is called the Flop. Another betting round follows. The fourth card is called the Turn card and the final card is the River. There are betting rounds after both the Turn and the River. The two players next to the dealer button have to put in blinds. This is like an ante in rotation around the table.

  “This is fun,” I said. “I might get addicted to this.”

  “That’s the trouble. Sometimes it’s all you want to do and all you think about.”

  “Well then, that won’t be a problem for ‘Team Jackson’ will it, because that’s all we’re going to do?”

  “This is like a fuckin’ fairy tale. You woke up, and now we’re going to live happily ever after, and all that shit.” He grinned at me.

  “Except I look a lot rougher than Sleeping Beauty,” I giggled, “and you’re a helluva lot better looking than Prince Charming. Let me clean up these dishes and you can show me how to play on the computer.”

  By the time, I joined Jackson in the study, he had Poker Stars online and had registered me as a player. He coached me for the balance of the afternoon and I learned a lot. I was thankful I was only using play chips because the mistakes I made would have cost a lot of money in the real world. Knowing how much to bet and when was a trick in itself.

  “You’re sharp, Portia. You learned a ton in one day.”

  “You’re a good teacher, and very patient. You’ve played for a long time, haven’t you?”

  “I made a few bucks at the casino outside of town.”

  “How far is it?” I asked.

  “About an hour away.”

  Our lesson over for the day, I stood up and messed up Jackson’s mop of hair. “We should practice at a real casino before we hit the big time.” I headed for the stairs to change my clothes.

  “Good idea.” He followed me into the foyer. “I can’t believe that we’re really going to do this. I’ve never been anywhere.”

  I stood on the bottom step and turned to face him. “Yep, we’re going to do it. Tomorrow we’re going to lay down a timeline.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”

  “We’ll talk about it at Buck’s. It will only take me five minutes to change.”

  He grinned. “You look good the way you are.”

  “I’m thinking I want to look better. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the Regulators,” I said on my way up the stairs.

  “Like that could happen,” he mumbled.

  THE END OF August weather was hot and humid like it always was in Toronto heading into the Labor Day weekend. I changed into white jeans, a flimsy white cotton peasant blouse with a black lace cami underneath and tugged on black high-heeled boots. With a little coaxing my mop of black and blonde hair became a little more submissive. Cover up over my scar, black eyeliner and thick mascara completed my bar look. A generous spray of D & G and it was time to step out in public.

  Jackson was playing poker on the computer when I entered the study. He looked up from the screen and raised his eyebrows. “You look amazing, and you smell gorgeous.”

  “Thanks, it takes more effort than it used to.”

  “Holy hell, I’d better hang on tight to you tonight.”

  When we walked into Buck’s together, all the regulars twisted their necks to stare at us as we passed their tables. Buck’s hadn’t changed much in my absence, still, just a rundown roadhouse-type establishment, with scarred wooden tables, smoke-filled air, loud country music and biker cliental. Buck’s was the main hangout of the Regulators, a few stragglers from other clubs and a lot of wannabees. Jackson walked with his hand on my back to keep me steady as we made our way to the high-backed booths in the rear section of the bar.

  After settling me into a booth near the pool tables, he walked up to the bar to fetch the drinks. Buck gave me a big grin and a friendly wave from behind the taps as he filled pitchers with draft beer and chatted up all the regulars.

  “I ordered cheeseburgers with fried onions,” Jackson said, setting the pitcher and the glasses on the table. “Buck said he’s glad to see you out.”

  “About time.” I sighed. “Is that what everyone is thinking?”

  “Doesn’t matter what they think. You’re the only one that counts.”

  “Thanks, Jackson. And did I tell you how handsome you look tonight?” He was wearing his customary skin tight jeans, a black Harley shirt topped with a black leather vest, and the ever-present motorcycle boots.

  “No, but you can tell me over and over. I’ll lap it up.”

  Buck brought our burgers over when they were ready and set the plates down in front of us. “Good to see you, Portia,” he smiled at me.

  “Thanks, Buck, my first night out of the house,” I smiled back, thinking that Buck’s hair had gone a lot grayer in the past two months.

  After we inhaled our cheeseburgers, Jackson went back to the bar for another pitcher of Coors. “Buck says he’s got a country band starting at nine.”

  “On a Friday? Let’s stay. We’ve got fuck all to do.” We both laughed. Some of the tension I saw in Jackson earlier had eased.

  The band showed up at ten after nine and the patrons booed them for being late. The drummer gave the crowd the finger while they set up, and twenty minutes later they were ready to rock and roll. When they started to play it was worth the wait. They were pros. They played some familiar beer drinking songs and then started in on some hurting, cheating, music that hit me right in the heart. After three pitchers of beer, I was ready. “Can you dance, Jackson?”

  He nodded, as he stood up and offered me his hand. The dance floor was small and packed with folks that had consumed multiple pitchers of beer. Jackson held me close and I inhaled the scent of him—leather, musk, and shampoo. I rested my head on his chest and he kissed my hair. The song ended and the band announced they were taking a short break. Jackson took me by the hand and led me back to our booth.

  “I haven’t danced in a long time,” I said, “You’re good.”

  “Haven’t danced since high school, but the beer helped, and you’re a good partner.”

  “I’m having fun and I’m a little drunk. Do you want to stay for another set?”

  “After the next one, we’ll call it a night. Don’t want you going crazy on your first night out.” He pointed towards the door. “Hey, there’s Rusty.”

  Jackson waved to Rusty and he ambled over to our table. “Hey, Portia, long time. How’s it going?” He put his arm around my shoulder.

  “Not bad. Every day it gets better. I’d be nowhere without Jackson. How are you boys making out?”

  “We struggled for a while without the boss, but things are pretty routine now. Of course, we miss him barking out the orders. He was the best,” Rusty said, and Jackson nodded in agreement. “See you guys later, I’m gonna beat Billy’s ass off at pool.”

  Jackson looked concerned. “Does it bother you when the guys talk about the boss? He ran the club for a long time and he meant a lot to us. Especially me.”

  “It bothers me, but I have to deal with it. George is gone and I have to keep on trucking even if I don’t want to.” Just then, there was a loud guitar twang in the background and the music started back up. “Hey, one more dance?”

  “Who wouldn’t want to dance with the best-looking girl here?” He grinned and took my hand as the band broke into a rowdy rendition of ‘I Love This Bar’. “I love Toby Keith,” Jackson said as we walked onto the floor.

  “I’m cutting in.” A rough looking guy that Jackson didn’t seem to recognize grabbed me by the arm and tugged me to the side.

  “Piss off, asshole.” Jackson pushed the other biker back a step and motioned for me to get behind him. Hidden behind the broad shoulders of my protector, I heard the click a
s the other dude snapped his knife out of his boot. Jackson lunged forward, grabbed the guy’s wrist and twisted his arm. The two of them grappled and struggled until the crack of bone had the biker yelping in pain.

  He clutched at his arm close to his vest. “I’ll get you for this, fucker.”

  Buck and a couple of recruits accosted him and showed him, not too gently, to the door.

  As the band resumed playing, Jackson took me by the hand and led me back to our table. “Time to go?”

  “And thanks,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHEN I WOKE the next morning, I found Jackson laboring in the workout room lifting weights. The previous night had left my head fuzzy. Too much beer and second-hand smoke after a long abstinence. “I need coffee and Advil,” I mumbled as I leaned on the door frame admiring his bare torso. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his tattooed biceps bulged from the weight he was hefting.

  “Coffee’s made. I’ll be finished in a few minutes,” he said breathlessly.

  “Take your time. I’m hung,” I grumbled. I plodded downstairs to the kitchen, filled a mug with black coffee and took it out to the patio. Angel ran to greet me and I gave her a big hug. I had neglected her badly the past two months and I needed to make it up to her. She returned from the back fence with her red ball in her mouth as Jackson came outside smelling like lemons. His thick black hair, damp from his shower curled around his neck and I yearned to touch him.

  “So you’re hung over?” He found amusement in that, laughed and lit up a smoke.

  “Out of practice. No beer for two months and look at me—I’m a mess. But if you want to do something later in the day, I’ll suck it up.”

  “I was thinking because it was a holiday weekend there would be lots of poker players at the casino and I could get in some practice. You could watch and see a real game or two.”

  “Wow. I’ve never been to a casino. That would be fun. Are you sure you want me tagging along? I’m fine here if you would rather go alone.”

  “Leaving you alone is not an option. Not ever.” The stony look returned to his face. “You’ll have to come with me.”