Losing Streak (The Lane)

by Kristine Wyllys

  “Listen.” My voice held a note of strain that Jackson didn’t seem to notice. “Whatever is or isn’t going or has or hasn’t gone on with Joshua is none of your business, okay? In fact, it’s better if you forget that there might even be business that’s not yours.”

  “There you go again. Forgetting you ain’t my mama.”

  “Damn it, Jackson. You’re being stupid and making mountains out of molehills. Just let it go. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Fine.” He paused, then, “You going to see Mama?”

  I think he meant it as a peace offering, the change of subject. Instead, I fought the urge to snort. Some things never changed.

  “Yeah. Told her I’d stop by tonight.”

  “Tell her I’ll be by soon.” He was quiet a moment, staring into his beer with a dark expression on his face before he asked in a far too casual voice, “Seen your girl lately?”

  I’d wondered if we’d arrive here tonight, since it’d been so long since he’d last asked. It was as if he thought bringing up Bri Martin more than every few weeks would indicate that he hadn’t entirely let go of the fact that she had chosen “that dumbfuck boxer” Luke Turner over their friendship. I didn’t point out that it was Jackson who had, in fact, been the one who tried to make her choose in the first place and had he not, maybe things would be different. I also didn’t point out that, as always, he was worried about shit that really didn’t fucking matter. Better for him to be focused on that kinda stuff anyway.

  “Not for a few weeks,” I replied, watching him closely for the hurt and loss to settle onto his features. They didn’t make an appearance tonight, however. If anything, his expression grew colder.

  “But you have seen her,” he pressed, finally making eye contact with me. I wanted to reach out and smooth the harsh, angry lines from his forehead.

  “I have.” I took a long drink of wine instead, too big to be considered ladylike. Try as I might, I had a hard time swallowing the stuff. My goal was always to finish the glass. Not enjoy it. “She’s doing okay. Got a new job. That new sports bar that opened up in Monroe? Sidelines or something like that.”

  “Yeah? Good for her.”

  “She cut her hair.”

  The mask slipped for the barest of seconds and something like longing flitted across his naked face. Then a wall slammed down and he looked away.

  “Of course she did.”

  “It looks good on her,” I continued, mostly because I knew he wanted me to despite his act. “Still as out of control as ever.”

  His jaw clenched tight for a moment before he nodded stiffly. “It’s funny. Would have sworn you’d be more loyal than that, you know, with blood being thicker than water and all that.”

  I set my glass down on the table with a thump.

  “Hold up a damn second. Weren’t you the one that came to me all concerned? First it was, ‘She needs friends, Rose. Hang out with her,’” I mimicked. “Then, ‘Keep an eye on her, Rosie. I’m worried about her.’ I’m doing what you asked me to. Maintaining contact for your sake. Just like I hung out with her before for your sake. Now you want to give me shit for it?”

  He stood suddenly and pulled a couple of crumpled bills from his pocket and threw them on the table. “Drinks are on me tonight.”

  “Really? You’re going to do this?”

  “I’ll call you later.” And even though he was still obviously angry, he dropped a quick kiss on my cheek, then straightened and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, the movement oddly familiar.

  I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to gather him up and hold him close and shove everything away from him. I wanted to protect him from every potentially dangerous thing, emotionally and physically. It was like it always had been with Jackson, basically.

  “See you, sis.” And with that, he sauntered away without so much as a backward glance.

  Jackass.

  I stared at my mostly finished glass of wine for a few minutes, struggling to understand what had just happened and why. It was true that something had been shifting in Jackson for a few months but that exchange was something new, something entirely new.

  Stupid, stupid misguided boy.

  Finally I stood and collected the crumbled bills with a sigh, glancing over at Brandon’s now-empty table without meaning to.

  A napkin sat too close to the edge and I saw the black etches on its surface as I drew nearer. I glanced around quickly, making sure I wasn’t being watched, then snatched it up without breaking stride. I slipped it into my back pocket, and it sat heavy there, despite its weightlessness. It might have been nothing. It might have been just a grocery list he left behind. I was a fool for risking that it wasn’t.

  The bar was clear when I approached it this time and, without a word, Fury pushed a thick wad of cash across the surface at me.

  “Thanks,” I said, shoving it into my purse. “I’ll be by sometime at the end of the week to collect again. I’ll make sure Joshua knows you’re running low too.”

  “Don’t forget. I ain’t trying to be caught on E if one of my big buyers calls me up.”

  “Do I ever? Come on, Fury. This isn’t my first time.”

  “I know, I know. A man’s gotta look after his own skin, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

  “Hold up a second before you go.” He glanced at the room over my shoulder before lowering his voice. “You know you’re playing with fire, don’t ya, Rosie-love?”

  I felt my shoulders tense as I eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah? You gonna ensure that?”

  “Ain’t none of my business. Nicky’s business is in this bar and out on that street. What happens beyond that ain’t mine to be concerned over.”

  “No? What if someone were to promise you some shit to make it your concern?”

  He gave me a look as he pulled more napkins out from underneath the bar and set them down in front of me in a deliberate sort of way.

  “Thing with promises is they ain’t always kept. Man’s gotta be pretty desperate to depend on them.” His eyes, brown as a bottle of Tennessee whiskey, stared deep into mine and he gave me a firm nod. “Tell me, Rosie-love. I look like a desperate man to you?”

  “Some people hide it well.”

  “True enough. But there’s usually signs if you know what you’re looking for. So. What do you think? Think Nicky’s a man desperate enough to make enemies based on promises?”

  “Instinct says no.”

  “But?” he pressed.

  “I’m not stupid enough to bet on instinct.”

  Fury laughed, hard, and tipped his golf cap in my direction. “Well you ain’t stupid, girl. Hell. Might be smarter than most around this drowning town. And you ain’t got to worry about me.” He gave me a knowing look. “But you’d be a fool not to worry at all.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I was running. I was always running. It seemed as if I’d been born doing it, that running was all I’d ever known, all I ever would know.

  The heavy hand in mine started to fall away again and I gripped it tighter, silently refusing to let go. Sweaty fingers squeezed mine once and then they went slack once more, there but not. Still with me, but only just.

  My heel sank into the soft earth, and with a snarl I yanked it free, cursing the soggy path that stretched on and on, no end in sight. And what was at the end, wherever it was? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know if I was running to something or away from it. I only knew what I always did—I had to keep going and I had to make sure the person with me did as well. I didn’t know who it was. I was too scared to look. I was scared of what that face over my shoulder meant to me.

  The path narrowed further still, closing in on both sides, boxing us in. Twisted, resentful trees reached for us with gnarled branches that never moved,
yet always seemed closer. I cringed away, stumbling slightly, and attempted to lift my arm to bat at them but it hung uselessly at my side.

  I cursed out loud when my heel sank again, and that slick hand in mine started to slip away. I wanted to yell out, scream obscenities at a sky I couldn’t see, but breath was too precious to waste. I should ditch them, I thought wildly. My chest burned as if split open. If I ditched them, I could run faster.

  But I didn’t. I never did. I just kept running, afraid to look over my shoulder. Afraid to look too far ahead. Everything in the entire world depended on me being as fast as possible, on not faltering. It was a race and if I lost, it would all break and it’d be my fault. Everything would fall apart. Nothing would remain untouched. I had to win and even winning might have its consequences.

  “What do you mean he’s not ready?” a booming voice demanded from somewhere close by.

  And then I was awake. The path I’d been sprinting down only moments before faded in a blur of greens and browns as my eyes focused on the room around me. White. Everything was white. As if I’d been transported from Middle Earth straight to Narnia, maybe into the White Witch’s personal suite.

  There was only one witch in this castle, however, and I was currently rubbing the sleep from my eyes and scowling.

  “A month. Do you realize that you’ve had a month since I gave you this assignment?” the voice continued from just outside my door, the heat in it rising with each sharp, punctuated word. “You assured me that it wouldn’t be an issue!”

  Ah, yes. The bastard king.

  I sat up and stretched, twisting my neck from one side to the other in order to crack it, something Joshua despised. He said the sound reminded him of brutes and white trash and he absolutely forbade me to do it in front of him.

  He had some deeper-level bullshit issues he desperately needed to work through.

  I could tell by the way his voice carried that he was pacing. He always paced when he was agitated. It drove me nuts, though I never said so out loud. There were many minor things I could get away with. Voicing anything even resembling a criticism wasn’t one of them.

  “You’re compensated well for this, aren’t you?” A pause. Only the barest of ones, more obligatory than him actually being interested in what the other party had to say.

  “Then why is this such an issue?” He exploded suddenly, making me jump. “I need him ready. You were aware that I needed him ready. I thought we had an understanding that this wasn’t a request, but a requirement. I need him ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  In the silence that followed, I scrubbed a hand across my face, cringing when my fingers came away brown with my eye makeup. I was constantly forgetting to wash that stuff off at night. “Dreadful for your pores, Rosemary,” Joshua would always tell me with a disapproving click of his tongue. “You’ll end up with premature wrinkles.”

  I slipped out of bed and padded softly to the door and eased it open, confirming my suspicions. He was having his very loud, very rude conversation directly outside my room. No respect, that man. Not an iota of it.

  I considered ducking back in and prolonging the inevitable business talk, but before I could make up my mind, Joshua glanced up and gave me a frown before beckoning me with the hand not holding his phone.

  “I will take your word for it, this time. But understand this, Mr. Williams, I will not tolerate this kind of blatant negligence again.”

  I fought to keep any kind of expression off my face, anything that would indicate the spike of unease that punched through me at the sound of Brandon’s name and the word negligence paired up together.

  Joshua watched closely, probably to see if there would be any kind of reaction, as he continued. “This isn’t a mere job. It’s a responsibility. There’s much more on the line than simply how it might affect you personally should you fail. You’d do well not to forget that. I need him ready. This is not negotiable.”

  With that, he hung up, fingers tightening around the screen for a minute, and for a split second I was sure it was destined to meet the wall as so many others had before it. At the last minute, Joshua seemed to remember himself and he slid it into his pocket with an unearthly snarl before his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “You slept late,” he said in a voice that only hinted at his disapproval.

  “I did. I didn’t think I had anything to do this morning.”

  “And yet you also didn’t bother to check in with me before making that assumption.”

  “No,” I said slowly, shaking my head. Joshua’s lips flattened into a thin line as my curls bounced with the movement.

  “Do you know why I keep you around, Rosemary?”

  “Because we have an arrangement?” I guessed.

  “It can be broken.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall, struggling to say focused on the conversation at hand, rather than the one I’d overheard. “I have no idea then.”

  “Because you’re dependable. Thorough. You take care of the jobs I assign you without fail. Of course, you have more at stake than the average person, don’t you? Even so. You get the job done efficiently. I cannot say the same for my other employees.”

  Employees. Such a funny way to put it.

  He appeared to be lost in thought for a moment, maybe considering those other employees. Then he visibly jerked himself and clapped his hands once.

  “What do you have for me?”

  I straightened, a soldier preparing to give my commanding officer a field report.

  “I went to Sharkie’s and collected from Lester. No problems. His money and Fu—Nick’s,” I corrected before he could chide me for the use of Fury’s nickname. “Lester’s and Nick’s money is in the safe. Dejah’s monthly checkup is scheduled for next week with Dr. Raynor. She’ll be able to be seen in the office this time, so she said she’d meet me with the paperwork after so I can file it for her guests. Speaking of, Jeff will have his payment on time but says he needs a new girl soon.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Shana isn’t working out.”

  “Shana and I have an arrangement. Mr. Riley will have to make do.”

  “That’s what I told him but he’s insisting. I told him I’d talk to you.”

  “And so you did. Tell him I said no. Shana stays. He deals. I’ll knock fifty off his dues for the next two months for the inconvenience. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

  “Noted.”

  Joshua gave me a disapproving look. “Yet you’re not taking notes. You know how I feel about that.” He turned quickly and strode across the hall to his study, which was my cue to follow him. I hesitated for a moment. The study was the place where Joshua handled his business, both sides of it. It was where he made his phone calls, the ugly, dirty ones filled with threats and sinister vows, and the ones to have some random legal employee he believed to be stealing from him watched closely and taken care of if necessary. The study was where he put in orders to have the people who crossed him disappear. It was where he threatened the lives, both implied and outright, of Jackson and Mama whenever he wanted to ensure that I didn’t put up a fight at any of his demands. Not everything that happened in the study was unpleasant, but every unpleasant thing was handled there.

  I shook my head to clear it and followed. His eyes tracked my every movement as I stepped into the large open room with its massive oak desk and bloodred chairs seated on the other side. I headed for one, knowing that was where he would want me.

  “Now then,” he said once we were settled. “Where were we?”

  I reached forward and pulled the notebook and pen on the desk toward me, crossing my legs as if I was in a nice dress suit and not in a pair of flannel snowman pajama bottoms.

  “Jeff Riley. You want me to tell him to suck it up and you’ll knock off fifty dollars
from his dues.”

  “Right. Yes.” He nodded, shuffling through a stack of papers on his left. Those would be the legal ones, numbers from Duke’s and Bar 9. I watched him like a hawk, in case he mixed them up with anything on the right. “Just don’t say it that way. Tact. We must always remember to have tact. Gets you further.”

  “Absolutely.” I made a show of jotting down a note.

  “Did you stop in to visit with our good friend Chief Daniels?”

  “I did. I let him know we might need him in the near future. He also requested Carmen for next weekend.”

  As if he sensed there was more to that statement, he flicked his hand to say “Go on” as he examined a payroll sheet.

  “Carmen refuses to do business with him,” I continued.

  Now I had his full, undivided attention.

  “Oh? And why, exactly, is that?”

  I didn’t point out that we’d been through this before, right after Carmen had last “spent time with Daniels,” as much as I wanted to. Joshua wasn’t a fan of even an unintentional suggestion that he wasn’t in control of, well, everything. Including his own memory. It was always such a careful dance with him.

  “Chief Daniels tends to get a little rough—”

  “Yes, yes. I’m well aware that his preferences are not exactly conventional. I hardly see the problem. There are many men who enjoy a bit of rough play.”

  It was bad enough knowing what the soggy-waisted Daniels’s particular kink was. Hearing Joshua talk about it in such a casual, understanding tone was more than my gag reflex could bear. And I’d witnessed some fucked-up shit over the years.

  “Well, Carmen isn’t into it. At all. And last time Chief Daniels got a little too rough with her. She said then she didn’t want to go back to him.”

  Joshua was frowning before I finished speaking, the wheels turning in his head almost visible.

  “Carmen. Carmen. What’s her last name again?”

  “Sanchez.”

  “Ah, yes. Carmen Sanchez. Has a son, doesn’t she?”