by Teagan Kade
I shake my head. “Fucking pathetic.”
I stand. “I don’t know if you’ve been downstairs yet, but we’re going to need a new ride, too.”
Bobby points with a trembling hand to a table by the door. “Take mine.”
I jerk my head. “Dawn.”
She takes the keys.
“Let’s get out of this shithole.”
I take her by the hand, running with her back down the stairs. The place is deserted now, the last few people heading out front.
I expect resistance outside, but Bobby wasn’t bullshitting. There’s no one out here.
I hit the key fob and head towards the lights.
It’s a fucking Lamborghini.
The scissor doors rise automatically. We both slide in.
I hit ‘Start’ and the engine revs hard. It sounds fucking fantastic, but I don’t have time to enjoy it, stepping hard on the accelerator and getting us the fuck out of here.
Dawn holds onto the Jesus handle as we drive over the busted front gates.
A black SUV pulls up sideways before us, the cavalry attempting to block off the street. Goons spill from it, guns raised, but we’re in a Lamborghini.
I blitz the accelerator and the car easily slides sideways around them, sling-shotting forward down the road.
I keep the speed on and don’t let up until we’re far away.
Free.
For now.
“You’re crazy,” says Dawn. “I mean that in the best possible way, of course.”
I smile at her, weaving through the traffic. “Dealing with these kinds of assholes, you have to be. A sane person wouldn’t last five seconds.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she smiles.
Her hair’s damp, but it’s gorgeous. “Did I say you were sane?”
We arrive at the Slip Inn fifteen minutes later, a dive of a motel on the outskirts of the main city. I kill the lights and drive in, but the exhaust is loud, a clear give-away.
“There,” says Dawn, pointing.
A man coming down the far stairs makes a break for it, running for a bobtail Harley parked down the side.
I smile at Dawn and lift the door up, leaving the car running. “Fancy a jog?” I ask her.
Dawn
Rick’s good at running. I should know. His solution to any problem is to sprint in the opposite direction hoping it won’t catch up with him, but this time it’s going to—we are going to.
“Come here, motherfucker,” calls Max, already closing the gap and directing him away from his bike as I struggle to keep up, the pavement hard on my bare feet.
I can see the fear in Rick’s eyes as he turns. He’s crapping his pants.
There’s a garden between two apartment blocks. Rick clears the gate, scrambling over the top. He leaves half of his salmon-colored shirt behind. And white loafers? Seriously?
You never did have any fashion sense, did you, Rick?
But Max is hot on his heels. Max doesn’t even try to jump the gate. He simply kicks it down, stampeding over the top into the gardens.
“Make it easy on yourself,” shouts Max. “I’ve broken enough bones today.”
Rick shows no signs of stopping.
I almost lose sight of them as I enter the gardens, spotting them both turning the corner past a bed of roses and powering for the far corner.
I’m out of breath, but I keep on, willing my legs to continue.
I hear a yelp and think Max has got him, but when I round the corner I see Rick turn and head down a small alleyway.
Max stops. Why are you stopping? I think, but when I reach his side, I realize why.
The alley is a dead end. I’m talking a literal brick wall far too high to scale. There’s a dumpster down there, and there’s Rick, back to the wall. How fitting.
The tables have turned. A few days ago it was me down the end of an alley like that, my life about to fall apart. Now here I am on the opposite side of the equation, about to put it right.
Rick’s got nowhere to go. Finally, we’ve got him.
Closer now, I can see he hasn’t wasted any time adjusting to the Vegas high life. He wears a chunky gold watch on one wrist, a necklace of similar girth hanging over the front of his shirt. The tips of his hair are bleached white. He could be an extra on Miami Vice, or a boy band member from the nineties. Either would work.
He holds his hand up, bent, trying to catch his breath.
“Look,” he begins. “There’s no need for trouble here.”
Max laughs, slowly working forward. “It’s way too late for that, pal.”
Two hands out now. “Please. Come on, man, bro to bro. Let’s talk this out.”
Max holds up his fist. “You can talk to this if you want, or you can pay up. It looks like you’re good for it. Your choice.”
“I’m under Bobby’s protection,” Rick stammers.
Max places his hands on his hips and looks around. “Really? Because I can’t say you look very ‘protected’ right now.”
“‘Vulnerable’ might be a better word,” I add.
“Indeed.”
Max looks to me to dig him out of this hole. “I’m sorry, Dawn. Come on. You know me. I didn’t want you involved in any of this. If there was any other way…”
I walk forward next to Max, happy to have him by my side, a real man. “There is. You can pay your god-darn debt to that Saul guy and we can all go home.”
Rick attempts a smile. I’m close enough to see a gold tooth that sure as heck wasn’t there before. “Dawn, baby, you know I can’t.”
It gets to me then. Yet again I’m looking at a compulsive liar, a man who destroyed my life, who set this whole insane situation into motion… and I’m not about to take any more.
It just happens. I launch forward and punch him right in his fat, stupid nose.
I knock him right off his damn feet.
It hurts. Like, it really hurts, but I act hard, standing over him while he blubbers, tending to his nose. A jab my finger down at him. “Pay. The. Fuck. Up.”
Rick looks up, eyes watering. “For what?”
“Are you serious?”
Oh, I’m going to murder this guy, but Max takes over smiling. “Maybe you should have been the one in that ring,” he whispers to me as he hauls Rick up by the collar and slams him against the brickwork. “You know full well ‘for what’. You took a loan from Saul Barnes, a big loan, and I’m not about to let Dawn here—a smart, intelligent woman who has no business in any of this—suffer because of something you did.”
Rick nods. “Saul. Right, right. That loan.”
Max lets go of him. He slumps back down onto the ground, getting up onto his knees. I realize I’m getting way too much joy out of seeing him this way.
Max raises his boot above his head. “Enough of this shit.”
Rick glances between me and Max, shielding himself. “Look, look. I have some money, a small nest egg.”
Max reaches down and picks him up again. “How much?”
Rick spits out a figure, but it’s not enough—far short of what Saul requires, even with the twenty-five grand I won betting on the fight… if we can even get ahold of it.
Max shakes his head. “That’s not enough, is it, Dawn?”
I shake my head in unison. “Hell, no.”
Max brings his fist back. “You sure, my friend? Because I’ve had to beat down a lot of people today, and I think I’m starting to enjoy it.”
Rick focusses on Max’s fist, his bruised and broken knuckles. I see his Adam’s apple drop. “That’s all I’ve got, Scout’s honor. Lay into me all you want, but I ain’t going to be able to magically pay out any more. I’m not a slot machine.”
Max scrutinizes him. I’m sure he’s going to get violent, but instead he lets him go again, Rick scuffling on the ground. Max turns around, whispering to me. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
Max raises an eyebrow. “I deal with thes
e kind of guys day in, day out. It’s my job. Trust me, I know.”
“It’s not enough,” I whisper back.
Max silently nods his head. “I know. It’s a problem, a huge problem, but it’s a start.”
I’m starting to lose hope again, I sense it slipping from my grasp. I’ve been through so much in these last few days, and now it seems like it’s all been for naught. Saul’s just going to keep on coming until the debt is paid out in full. I’m savvy enough to know that.
I’m half-expecting Rick to try and make a run for it, but he knows he’s done, panting there against the wall. I wonder what he’s doing that was so valuable to Bobby, but now’s not the time for further questions.
Max takes me by the shoulders, his hands firm and reassuring. I feel so safe whenever he’s touching me, the world forgotten—only us. I’d so much rather be holed up in a hotel with him than out here untangling my past mistakes, and Rick was a mistake. There’s no doubting that now.
But Max? He’s right for me. He might not look it. Heck, convincing Mom he’s not fresh out of a county jail’s going to be tough enough, but I know with all my heart he’s true, and honest, and he cares for me. He’s more than proven that. More than once he’s almost laid down his life for me. Would a guy like Rick do that?
“Have you still got the betting slip?”
I check the pocket in my dress, take out the slip. “Yes.”
Max takes it. “I know someone who can cash this in, because neither of us can show up at the Wild Horse now.”
“Will they accept it?” I query.
“It was an underground fight, wasn’t it?”
“They’ll pay,” replies Max. “Legal or not. They don’t know you placed that bet. It’s all anonymous, even more so with underground betting.”
“Have you got cash?”
I nod.
“Go to a hotel on the strip, check in, but pay cash. Don’t use your real name and try to stay away from the surveillance cameras as much as you can. You know my cell number?”
I nod. That’s one thing I do remember.
Max’s amber eyes are wide and alert. “Wait for me in the room. I’m going to take your ex here to make a withdrawal.”
“But the banks are closed,” I protest.
Max laughs. “His money ain’t in any bank. Trust me.”
“Okay,” I say. “You’ll be careful?”
He jumps back in offense. “Don’t tell me you suddenly care about me now?”
I roll my eyes. “I think we’ve moved past that, don’t you?”
“Way past that.” His hand runs down my side. I burn up inside, desperate for his touch, but it will have to wait. “You’ll be alright to flag down a cab back on the main road?”
I tilt my head. “I think I can handle that much.”
“Go,” he says.
“I’m sorry, baby,” says Rick, trying one last time to appeal to me.
I step around Max, my finger once again going into stabby stabby mode. “Don’t you ever call me that again.”
“Come on. We had some good times, didn’t we?” he continues.
When I think back on it, though, when I really think back on what we did, I realize that no, we didn’t. It was all about him, about his needs. I never factored into it for a second. “Goodbye, Rick.”
I wink at Max as I pass, reaching down to squeeze his hand. “Be careful,” I whisper.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hear him haul Rick up. “Let’s go, asshole. I’ve had just about enough of this damn city.”
I take a cab to the strip and direct the cabbie to the largest hotel I can find. It looks like a giant medieval castle, which is funny in a way. Maybe that’s why I choose it, a place to sit and wait for my knight in shining armor.
I have to laugh at that, picturing Max dressed up, sword in hand. He’d certainly make an interesting knight. I’d much rather picture him wearing nothing at all. There’s a stirring of need between my legs, but I force them together, stepping up to the main desk.
The man behind it smiles in that dental-ad way all hotel employees here seem to have mastered. “Welcome to the Excalibur. How can I help you today?”
I fumble in the pocket for cash. “A room for two, please.”
He taps on his keyboard. “Any room preference?”
It’s only now I realize how tired I am, how sore my feet are. “I’ll take anything.”
Room card in hand, I close the door to the suite and collapse onto the bed. The room’s tiny compared to the penthouse at the Wild Horse. The décor’s tacky, dated, made to look medieval, but it’s a room, with a bed, and that’s all I care about right now.
I take out a prepaid cell I bought outside and text Max the room number, hoping everything is going smoothly. We don’t need any more drama.
I wish none of this existed, that Max and I were simply here on a holiday.
A honeymoon, perhaps?
Once again, I dismiss the thought, but it continues to knock against my subconscious until it seems as sane and sensible as anything else. How many guys would do what he has?
And the sex. That’s a deal-sealer alone. I roll over onto my back, intending to close my eyes for just a second, but sleep takes me fast, the last thought on my mind of Max, a suit, a dress, and a smile that says ‘I love you.’
Max
I’ve seen some sad excuses for human beings, but Ricky boy here would have to be right up there. His apartment — read: motel room — is filthy. There are bottles of everything from Jack to Absolut on the table, get-rich books, DVDs from motivational speakers and success gurus. The takeout boxes, haphazardly piled up in the sink, are telling enough on their own. Cable porn’s showing on the TV.
I push him inside. I knew the money would be here, but I didn’t want Dawn to be. I didn’t want her to see what I’m about to do to this lowlife.
I close the door and pull the blinds closed.
Rick starts to back up. His eyes turn to an empty bottle.
“Don’t,” I tell him.
He takes another step back. “What are you going to do, man?”
“What? You didn’t think I was just going to take the money and go, did you?”
He comes up against the back of the couch. “Let’s be civilized about this, huh? For Dawn’s sake.
I look up to the ceiling shaking my head. “For Dawn’s sake? And what part of taking off and leaving Dawn to deal with your loan situation was for her sake exactly? In fact, it seems everything you do is, well, for you. I don’t think you’d know concern for others if it up and slapped you in the head.”
He puts his hands out again. “Who the hell are you, man?”
“Not your concern.”
“Are you hot for her? Is that it? Because man to man, bro, she’s cute, but she’s boring, a real dud fuck.”
Wrong choice of words, bro.
I rush forward and bury my fist so deep in his gut I’m surprised it doesn’t explode from the back of the couch.
I pull away and he slumps to the floor groaning, hacking up nothing but spit. “Did you ever consider maybe you’re not man enough to get her off? Did you even fucking try, or were you too busy trying to find that bee-sting dick of yours?”
He can’t speak, still trying to find his voice. I get down on a knee and lift his head up so he can see me. “The only reason I exist is because of assholes like you. Call me a cleaner of sorts, and if I ever see you again, mark my words you’ll be nothing but a stain on the floor. Are we good on that, bro?”
He nods, coughing.
I can’t stand this guy a second longer. “The money. Where is it?”
He points, gasping. “Bedroom. Mattress.”
I shake my head. Such a fucking cliché. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down.”
I make my way to the bedroom, flipping the mattress.
I pick up a gym bag off the floor, turning it upside-down, empty its contents, stuffing the cash inside. I’ve been doing th
is a long time. I can look at a pile of cash and tell you immediately how much is there. Rick might be an asshole, a compulsive liar, but he was telling the truth about the money.
I zip up the bag and throw it over my shoulder.
Rick’s managed to get himself up into a sitting position, one hand over his gut, teeth gritted together. “I think you ruptured my spleen or something.”
I pause. “I haven’t, but I’d be happy to if you like. You got a car or just that shitty bobtail?”
“Yeah, I got a ride, but it’s Bobby’s—a loaner.”
“Even better. Keys?”
He nods to the breakfast bar. I take them.
“Goodbye, Rick.” I call, closing the front door and looking for trouble. The Lambo remains, but Bobby’s goons will be by for it soon enough.
I hit the key fob on Rick’s keys. Looks like he’s living large in a Mazda Miata, a poor man’s Ferrari if ever there was one. I swear my balls shrink as soon as I step foot inside it, placing the gym bag on the passenger seat and getting the fuck out of this hole.
I call Sam on the way.
“You still here?” he answers.
“I need a favor,” I tell him. “Can we meet?”
My business with Sam takes a solid half an hour. I say goodbye, the gym bag twenty-five grand heavier, and head for the strip.
I check my cell. Dawn has already texted through the room details.
Good.
A new pain shoots up and down my arm. I feel it right down in the bones of my hand. It’s been a while since I’ve given them such a workout. O’Neil did a number on me as well, but I don’t have time for pain at the minute. It can wait.
I try to think of a solution to get Dawn out of this mess, but it’s useless. It kills me I can’t come up with a way to help her, to free her. Even with all my savings, every dime I have, it wouldn’t be enough to cover the debt.
Think. Fucking think.
But I’m done. I just want to sleep.
I park the car a good distance away from the Excalibur, making sure to leave it in a loading zone.
I knock on the door to the room, double-checking the hall. There’s no answer. I don’t want to call her name, so I take out my wallet and work through my cards until I find something of sufficient size and width.