by Vivian Ward
After several more hands, the middle-aged man and his bimbo leave once he’s lost most of his money.
“Hope you have better luck than I did,” he pats my arm.
Squirming from his touch, I politely say, “Thanks.”
“You’re not doing too bad,” the dealer says to me.
“No, not really.”
“I notice you seem to be playing it safe. Is this your first time here?”
“Eh, I might have been here before. I’m just here to have some fun and maybe win a few bucks.” I try not to give away too much information about myself. The less these people know about me, the better off I am. My mind begins to wander and think about Trent.
Two men walk up and sit beside me, betting large sums on their hands. They’re friendly but quiet, which I’m grateful for after having to listen to Ms. Bimbo laugh and giggle at every stupid thing her boyfriend said to her.
I feel horrible for being here with his brother, but I promised Zack I’d help him out and I need the money. The last thing I want to do is take money from Trent. That’s one of the main reasons why women are so attracted to him, besides his looks. And I don’t want him to get the impression that’s the reason I’m with him.
I think he’d find it awfully convenient that I would never date him prior to all these years but now that I’m broke, I can suddenly date him? No, that’s not the impression that I want him to have.
Sure, we go way back, but people change. I don’t want everyone around St. Louis talking, saying things like, “Joline only got with him after she lost her job and didn’t have any money when she came back from Vegas.” I’ve never been that type of person and never will be.
Chapter 12
We decide to go to his apartment after playing tonight. Our winnings were phenomenal, and he’s talked me into stopping for a nightcap before going home.
He lives in a skyrise luxury apartment building, one of the most sought after places for wealthy singles and well-to-do younger married couples. The building is tall and sleek, but dull in appearance. Its silver tone reflects coldly against the moonlight in the night sky and almost gives off a spooky vibe.
At first, I was uncomfortable with the idea of coming back to his place when he suggested we come here, but I figured it isn't any different than spending time together with him parked in dark, strange alleys behind dimly lit restaurants.
And it’s not like he’s a random person. I’ve known him practically all my life.
“You did amazing tonight,” Zack tells me as we ride the elevator to the 17th floor where his apartment is located.
“Thanks but I feel so dirty. It’s just…well, it’s weird.”
“Dirty? Weird? Those aren’t words that I use.”
He sticks his key in the door of his apartment and swings the door open, bowing.
“Ladies first.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Upon the first inspection of walking inside, his apartment looks empty. Almost vacant. The theme of his apartment closely matches the outside appearance of the building when we first arrived.
Dull and steely.
If it weren’t for the chestnut hardwood flooring, there would be almost no color at all. The place is naked. No photos, posters, or pictures.
Not a single hint to give away the identity of who lives here or what their interests might be. A strange might walk in and assume the apartment is vacant. Just a furnished, empty apartment.
It’s what I’d assume, anyway.
“Do you ever do anything here? Besides sleep?”
“Not really. I figure what’s the point. It’s a place to crash at night; that’s all I need. I don’t do much entertaining.”
Sinking into his overstuffed brown leather couch, I observe him walk over to the kitchen area of his apartment. It’s a modest kitchenette with a small breakfast nook, some cabinets, and the standard appliances.
He reaches into a small glass cabinet area on top of the cabinets and takes down a bottle of liquor, pouring us a couple of drinks.
“About this weird and dirty talk,” he hands me a glass. “I want you to tell me how you feel after this.”
“After what?”
“A hundred thousand,” he hands me a stack of cash that was neatly tucked away in the breast pocket of his jacket.
“A hundred thousand?”
“Tonight was a light night. It’s only Tuesday, and the big players usually come out on the weekends. Friday and Saturday nights, when they don’t have to get up for business meetings and the likes.”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the hundred grand that’s weighing down the palm of my hand. I thought we might be good for around 10-15 thousand a night, not a hundred grand!
“Hey,” he rests his fingers beneath my jaw. Up until this point, I wasn’t aware that my mouth was gaping open. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just can’t believe we made this much.”
“What?” he laughs. “Are you kidding me? This is chump change compared to some of our earnings.” He takes a drink. “If you stick around—and I hope that you will—we’ll make a lot more. You’re magnificent at what you do, and the team likes working with you. I’m telling you, I think you’re into witchcraft or something. It’s like you never lose.”
His phone rings, interrupting our conversation before I have a chance to respond. I’m not sure if I want to keep doing this or not.
On the one hand, this is a lot of money so I could easily buy a car, pay off my credit card bills and help my dad out, but like I said, this is a lot of money. I could potentially buy a huge house and maybe start my own business.
I’ve always dreamed of opening my own business and owning a salon. A full-service salon complete with hairdressers, nail techs, makeup artists, and masseuses. This could be an easy way to the top. Get enough capital that I need to start up, buy all of my inventory, and find the right people to staff it all.
But it’ll take more than a hundred grand. Easily.
I could have some real opportunity here.
“Want some more?” I ask, holding up our glasses.
He nods, handing me his half-empty glass and mouths the word ‘please’ before turning his body away from me, cupping the phone with his hand. While I’m in the kitchen, I overhear part of his conversation.
“No? There’s nobody here, I don’t know what you heard.”
Nobody here? Who is he talking to?
Still listening, he says, “No, Jenny, that’s not happening. Not tonight.” There’s a brief pause before he finally tells Jenny goodnight and hangs up.
Walking back into the living room, I hand him his drink.
“Jenny, huh? I haven’t heard about her yet.”
Part of me is jealous that he’s talking to another woman, though I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s so good looking and has never had a problem getting women, but I can’t help myself. The other part of me knows that I have no right being jealous.
“Yep. Good old Jenny.”
His eyes scan my face.
“We’re not anything official. We just hook up on a casual basis. Nothing serious.”
“Really? Nothing official, huh?”
It sure sounded and looked like it was a little more than nothing while he was on the phone with her.
I don’t believe him for one minute.
“I promise.” He knows I’m not buying it. “Look, Jenny’s cool and knows she’s a beautiful girl.” He fumbles with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Besides, she probably knows that she could do much better than me.”
“Are you out of your mind?” The words fly out of my mouth faster than I ever intended. “I mean, have you seen yourself? I bet if you chose the right girl to settle down with, you’d be much happier.”
“I don’t know.”
He takes the last swig from his glass and eyes the bare bottom of his glass as if he’s pondering life’s most complex topics.
“I’ve never gotten anything I’ve gon
e after. Not like my brother.”
Ouch.
That last part stings a bit. I know exactly what he’s talking about: Me.
“Oh, Zack—,” he cuts me off.
“No, listen,” he puts his thumb over my plump bottom lip, rubbing it. “My brother has always been better than me. Even when we were younger, he was always dad’s favorite.”
I can’t believe he’s telling me this. It’s so unlike him to open up. Never in all my life has he ever opened up like this. I can tell it’s something he needs to do, something he wants to do so I let him.
“Anytime dad ever came back from a long business trip, it was Trent that he always took out for a special father-son day. Not me. I was always left behind.” He shakes his head. “But mom, she always tried to make me feel better about it, you know?”
I shake my head, “What did she do?”
“She always tried to make up for dad’s behavior any way she could. We’d bake cakes or special cookies. Sometimes she would sit down with me, and we’d put together those giant puzzles.”
I remember the giant puzzles, but I never knew that he and his mom put them together. I’d always assumed they were hers.
When you walked into the front parlor of their house, there were large glued puzzles occupying the walls. I thought it was odd that she had an obsession with boats and cars, but now it all makes sense.
She did them with him to make him happy, to bring a little joy to his life.
“I’m sorry your dad was like that. I had no idea, but you still deserve happiness in your life. You’ll find someone who’s right for you.”
“Maybe. Want another drink?” he holds up his empty glass.
I hadn’t realized I’d guzzled my drink down, too.
“Sure. What else do you have in there? To drink?”
“Um, let me see.”
He walks into the kitchen and opens his liquor cabinet.
“Brandy, vodka, and tequila on the shelf and,” he opens the fridge. “White wine or beer in the refrigerator. What would you like?”
“Do you have any mixers to go with any of that stuff?”
“Mixers? Hold on, let me see if I have a pink boa,” he teases. “Wait! I think I have one.”
“Shut up!” I playfully slap him. “You don’t have to be an ass.”
“Seriously, I think the best I can do is a bottle of Mio. I have lemonade flavor that you can mix something with, but aside from that, I don’t. I drink everything straight up.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
I opt for a glass of white wine and plop back down on the couch.
“What are you going to do with your earnings?” he asks.
It’s a fair question. I haven’t told him much about me since we’ve run into each other.
Come to think about it; this is the first chance the two of us have had just to talk, hang out and act like a couple of friends and I’m grateful for the opportunity.
“I have some serious debt that I need to pay off,” I sip my wine. “And then, I want to put some money in the bank.”
“Debts? I can’t imagine you owing anyone money.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” I explain. “I’m not in any trouble, but I have some bills to take care of, and I need to get a car. I think getting a car is top on my list.”
“What will you do once you have a car and have paid off your bills?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I’ve been searching for a job for a while now but haven’t had much luck. It’s like I’m one resume too late or not qualified enough or over-qualified.”
These drinks are hitting me and I’m feeling a little hot. I put my hand on my forehead, moving my hair out of the way to cool myself off.
“Since when did the job market get so complicated? Remember the days when you used to be able to apply for a job, and you got it?”
“You have a job,” he says.
“What? Oh, no. This is not my job.”
“Why not? You’re good at it. You know the game, you’re making money at it—good money, might I add. What’s wrong with taking a little icing off the top of the cake?”
He moves behind me and begins to rub my shoulders.
I tense up at first, unsure if I want him touching me, but it feels so good that I feel myself loosening up, becoming putty in his hands.
“Taking icing off the cake? What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“That you can have your cake and eat it, too. There’s no reason that you can’t make a few good bucks and keep doing it. You said you'd put the rest of the money up once you have your bills caught up and a car. What are you going to save it for?”
“I don’t know. Maybe open my own business? Or maybe I’ll just get a regular job and have some money in the bank for a rainy day. Or maybe I won’t even make it that far. I don’t know if I like doing this.”
“You love doing this because it’s fun, it’s easy to do, and you’re good at it. You’re not quitting on me; I won’t let you.”
“Do you know what your brother would say or do if he found out about all this?” I ask.
“I don’t care. He already has it all. The successful business, daddy’s approval, the girl of my dreams. He has it all, and I have what? This?” he waves his arm around his livingroom. “This apartment?”
“Zack,” I say, putting my hand on his arm.
I want to apologize as I look deep into those emerald eyes of his but I can’t. I can’t say a word.
Instead, I lean in and put my head on his shoulder and sigh.
“Zack, not everything is always as it appears. I mean, your brother and me, we aren’t,” I let my voice trail off.
“What? You and my brother aren't what?” he tries to draw it out of me.
“Nothing, nevermind.”
“No, I want to know,” he sits up, pushing me off of him. “Tell me.”
“We’re not exactly official. I mean, we go out on dates and spend a lot of time together but it’s not like he’s announced to anyone that I’m his girlfriend. I’m not sure where our relationship stands.”
He wraps his arms back around me, enveloping me in his warmth and strength, resting his head on top of mine.
“You two looked pretty serious at the wedding. What was all that about?”
“I’m not sure. I think he has good intentions, but I’m not so sure that he wants me exclusively.”
“Why?” he probes further.
“We have a lot of fun together, but I think it’s odd that he never introduces me as his girlfriend when we go to dinner parties, or I meet a new client of his.”
“How does he introduce you?”
I sigh. I’m not totally sure that I should be telling him all of this, but the liquor is making it easier to talk to someone about our relationship. Since Karli’s wedding, I haven’t bothered her with anything, and she’s the closest friend that I have. It feels good to talk to someone about it finally.
“His date.”
“You mean he doesn’t even give you the courtesy of saying that the two of you are a couple?”
He sounds angry.
“No, I mean, he doesn’t disrespect me in any way. Don’t get me wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t even be talking to you about all of this.”
“You should tell him, Joline. Tell him that you at least deserve a fucking title. You are unbelievable, and he’s lucky to have a woman like you dangling off his arm. He’s such an asshole.”
I had no idea that Zack would get this angry. He runs his hands through his soft hair out of frustration.
“I’m sorry, this was all a mistake,” I say, reaching for my purse. “I’ll call a cab,” I make my way toward the door.
“No, please, don’t go.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me back down on the couch with him. His eyes are pleading with me to stay.
“It’s okay,” I assure him as the sofa swallows me up. “Don’t talk about your brother like that. I don’t want to come between the two o
f you. Maybe he just doesn’t realize how it makes me feel.”
He pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it.
“He’s one lucky asshole if I’ve ever seen one. I promise, no more brother bashing even though I hate him sometimes.”
The whole irony of the situation makes me laugh, and I can’t contain it.
“Oh my god,” I giggle. “We’re not the couple, yet we’re fighting like one as we talk about all of these feelings.”
“How about a toast?” he asks.
“A toast? To what?”
“To us. To our new relationship—business and personal. I think we’re going to make great partners.”
As the two of us clinked our glasses together, I wasn’t sure if he meant partners or partners.
I could feel the heat radiating from my face as I greedily gulped down the last of my wine.
“Well, I had better get going. Thank you so much for inviting me over and listening to me. It was good catching up.”
Scrambling to the front door, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me back into his apartment. Our faces are only inches apart when the energy of my body finally stops from his sudden grasp of me.
“Wait,” he puts his hands on my hips. “Don’t be scared of me.”
“I’m not.”
I lie because what just happened—mainly our conversation since we got into his apartment—has me a bit freaked out.
“M’kay,” he says, kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll call you with the next location as soon as the rest of the crew decides on it.”
“Okay,” I stare, mesmerized by his handsome looks.
“You sure you don’t want me to give you a ride home? With that hundred G’s on you?”
For a moment, I forgot how much money I was even carrying on me, but I’d rather take my chances. The odds of me getting mugged in an area like this are slim to none.
“I’m good. See you later.”
I call a taxi on my way down to the front lobby and wait inside the building for it to arrive. Even though my odds of getting robbed are slim to none, I’d rather go with the option of none.
During the cab ride home, I decide not to tell Trent about my evening if he asks for details. I don’t want to lie to him.