Snake Eyes

by Melissa Pearl

“Sounds good to me.” She smiled, ripping off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth.

  “What sounds good?” I sat down beside her.

  “Poker with Gramps after dinner.” She winked at me then mouthed, “No cheating; I promise.”

  I chuckled, pecking her lips and reaching for the salad bowl Gramps held out to me.

  The meal passed with easy chatter. Gramps could make a killer spaghetti and meatballs. We sipped our Cokes as we laughed at another of his military training stories and that look on Caity’s face was back...the relaxed, no-cares-in-the-world one that I wanted her to live with permanently.

  Gramps stood from his seat, clearing the plates. Caity jumped up to help him.

  “Let me. You cooked.” She kissed his cheek and took the plates from him.

  Once she was in the kitchen, he leaned over the table and whispered, “That’s a catch right there. Don’t you ever let her go, boy.”

  “Not planning on it.” I grinned.

  He slapped me on the shoulder with a chuckle. “Why don’t you go grab the chips and we’ll get started.”

  I did as I was told and thirty minutes later was sitting at the table with two cards in my hand, clinking my chips together. We were playing Texas Hold ‘Em...a little more complicated than the five-card draw, but Caity wanted to get her head around it.

  “Okay, so you’ve dealt the flop and then the turn, so there’s another round of betting now?” Caity asked Gramps.

  “Yes, you can either fold, raise, check or call to match Eric’s bet.” He nodded.

  Caity nibbled her lip, eyeing the cards in her hand.

  “Remember now, you still have the river to go, so there’s one more chance of bettering your hand and one more round of betting before you have to show us anything. If your cards are really bad, get out now before you lose more money.”

  “But you told me aggressive players do better.”

  “No, I told you to be a better, not a caller, but I also said wait on the good cards and throw the bad ones away.”

  I grinned as I watched my two favorite people talking. Gramps had a Southern lilt to his voice, having been raised on a farm in Kentucky. In spite of the fact he’d spent most of his life living in California, he’d never lost it and I loved that about him. Caity, in contrast, was a California beach bunny through and through and I most definitely loved that about her.

  She nodded, a large curl dropping over her shoulder as she leaned forward and gazed at the four upturned cards in the middle of the table.

  Gramp pointed at her. “Keep that poker face, girl. You don’t want to give anything away now.”

  Her lips tipped up at the corners, her blue gaze brushing mine before dropping back to the tabletop.

  “Okay,” she nodded, looking at me. “I’ll call and raise you two dollars.” She threw four chips onto the table.

  My eyebrows rose and she gave me an innocent blink, her lips still fighting a smile. I narrowed my eyes at her and she started giggling, squeezing her eyes shut.

  I tapped her foot under the table and shook my head. She’d said no cheating, the little deviant.

  “Fold.” I placed my cards on the table, annoyed that I couldn’t get my bluff past her. I should have known; she probably hadn’t even meant to read me, but my mask would have slipped away and she’d probably spotted something before pulling it back into place.

  Gramps frowned between us before calling Caity’s bet.

  He then burned the top card by placing it on the table, face down, before dealing the river card. I gazed at the five upturned cards, glad I’d folded. After three rounds, I was already down on chips, which was why I’d decided to go for the bluff, but I hadn’t taken into account the Caity Factor.

  I glanced at her pile, wanting to be mad at her for cheating, but not quite making it. She was just too damn cute and adorable and I secretly loved that she kicked ass at this game...especially when she beat jerks like her brother, Toby.

  In the end, Gramps won the round with two pair, queen high. Caity had two pair, tens high. With a good-natured groan, she threw her cards down as Gramps scraped the pot toward him.

  “Oh, come now, this is the first hand you’ve lost, little lady.”

  She chuckled. “I’m happy for you, honestly I am.” She winked and then smiled at me.

  “I tell you, you’ve got the gift.” Gramps shook his head with a grin.

  Caity’s face blanched while my back pinged straight in the chair.

  She cleared her throat. “What do you mean, Clayton?”

  He shrugged, his eyes still on the chips he was staking. “Poker comes natural to some. Now, you take Eric’s daddy; he was one mean poker player.” He shook his head, his eyes going distant as if watching a memory. “That boy had the most uncanny luck...or maybe it was just skill, I don’t know, but I hardly ever beat the kid.”

  I pressed my elbows into the table.

  “Yeah, a lot of good it did him,” I mumbled, sharp memories attacking me. One in particular dug in deep, feeling like a saber through the gullet.

  Gramps’s lips formed a tight line the way they always did when his son was insulted. It was the only thing we didn’t see eye-to-eye on, which was why we never really talked about Declan Shore.

  To me, he was the biggest asshole on the planet with a father who wanted to forgive him and a son who wanted to hate him for all eternity.

  “You be careful, son. He wasn’t all bad,” Gramps warned.

  But I wasn’t ready to listen. I couldn’t help a soft gibe at my father. “He was hardly good.”

  Gramps’ nostrils flared, his voice stretching tight with checked anger. “Boy, do not ruin tonight. I know you’ve got your issues, but you don’t bad-mouth my son around me.”

  I made two fists with my hands, fighting the urge to throw back my chair and storm from the room. Gramps had hung a punching bag in the garage for occasions like this. It’d been well used in the past, but I wasn’t going to lower myself to it tonight. Not with Caity staring at me with those beautiful eyes of hers.

  Pressing my lips together, I slumped back in my seat.

  I should have kept my dumb mouth shut. Never engage in battle with a decorated Marine; you’d always lose.

  But I couldn’t help it. He’d just compared my pure, sweet Caity to a guy who had left his eight-year-old son standing out in the rain after school one day for nearly two hours. I knew I could have walked home, but my loyal soul hadn’t wanted to give up on the man I’d adored. It’d been dark by the time he finally arrived with a puffy eye and a cut lip.

  I’d gotten into his car, my anger being overridden by my fear.

  “What happened, Dad?”

  He gazed out the windshield with a sigh before starting up the engine. “Know when to hold ‘em, buddy.”

  That’s all he’d said and I hadn’t figured out what he’d meant until three years later when I heard that Kenny Rogers song, “The Gambler.” Mom had been singing along to it in her car and I’d listened intently until it had finished, flicking off the radio and demanding she tell me what that country guy was singing about.

  It’d broken my heart, figuring out that my dad had left me in the rain in order to gamble his money away on a card game. Thanks to him, I’d scored myself a really bad cold, which turned into bronchitis. I’d been on bed rest for over a week, which for an active eight-year-old felt like an eternity.

  My adoration for him had started to stumble and trip by that stage, but my stupid self had clung tight for a few more years. It wasn’t until he left me hanging outside Dodger Stadium for an entire day that I really gave up on him. He never showed, never called, and I hadn’t heard from him or seen him since. His promise to turn up with the tickets and spend the day together had been the final one he’d broken, and I couldn’t forgive him anymore. He’d used up all his chances and I no longer cared where he was...or even if he were alive.

  Caity rubbed my shin with her foot, giving me a tender smile before quietly s
huffling the pack. She kept glancing at Gramps, and I could tell by her expression that she was seeing something I wasn’t. I was smart enough to realize that Dad’s disappearance probably hurt Gramps as much as it hurt me, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Talking about my father always put me in such a foul mood and I didn’t want to spoil the weekend.

  “Deal up,” I said softly, lifting my chin at Caity.

  She did as I asked, but it was safe to say the mood in the room had been crucified by my snarky comments. Without meaning to, I had ruined the evening.

  23

  Caitlyn

  The best thing to get Eric out of a slump was for him to go surfing. So as soon as we woke up the next morning, I suggested we hit the beach. He knew what I was trying to do and gave me an appreciative kiss for the effort.

  It had meant our Saturday started on a much sweeter note, which it most definitely needed to.

  I rode my wave into shore, bending my knees and flicking the board up one last time before jumping off into the ocean. The salty water was crisp and cool, waking me up thoroughly. The day was going to be a big one. I had decided as I lay beside my gloomy boyfriend that the next day, I would definitely tell him about Kaplan and what I was doing for her.

  He deserved the truth and seeing the agony on his face as he sat across the poker table from me just confirmed it. We didn’t talk about Declan Shore…ever. I’d heard little snippets here and there, and I knew about the Dodger Stadium incident. It’d been told to me in short, sharp sentences and when I’d try to venture into an in-depth conversation about the reasons why his dad might have done it, I was cut off. Eric didn’t want to go there and I had to respect that.

  I stood up, slicking back my hair, and noticed that Clayton Shore was sitting on the beach watching us. His elbows were resting on his knees, his toes buried in the cool, morning sand.

  Collecting my board, I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Hey, Eric! Going in now!” I raised my hand and waved at him.

  He gave me a thumbs-up and turned back to the ocean. I could tell he was in a zone, working through his feelings. Tucking the board under my arm, I walked up the beach, swamped by nerves. How the hell would he react to my revelation this afternoon? I could see a night surf in his immediate future. I cringed. I really didn’t like him surfing in the dark, but he’d probably need it after I revealed my lies.

  “Looking good out there.” Clayton smiled as I dropped the board onto the sand and unfastened the leash around my ankle.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the towel he was holding out to me and rubbed my face dry before flicking it out and unzipping my wetsuit. I wriggled out of it and sat down beside Eric’s grandpa, mirroring his stance.

  “You sleep okay?” The sand felt good against my damp skin as I wiggled my toes, feeling the grains grind between them.

  Clayton shrugged. “As well as I could.” He huffed out a sigh and ran a hand over his bald head. “I shouldn’t have been so snappy. The kid’s got a right to be mad with his father; the guy let him down big-time. I just thought...hoped...by now that he would have forgiven him. He’s been harboring that anger and hurt for too long.”

  “I guess it’s hard to forgive when there’s been no resolution. For all Eric knows, his father could be dead. To just disappear like that is so bizarre.” I stole a sidelong glance at Clayton, wondering if I’d snatch a glimmer of what I caught the night before. The mask began to slip, so I ripped it off and went for it. “I’m surprised you’ve never tried to find him.”

  Bingo.

  There it was.

  A flash of guilt, knowledge, something. He had a secret, something he’d never shared with his grandson, a nugget of truth locked away inside him.

  “You did, didn’t you? What happened?”

  Clayton sighed, a long, heavy one this time. His face washed with pain.

  “It was partly my doing.” His brows bunched together, tears springing into his eyes. I threw his mask back on and noticed his tough facade was dry and void of emotion. I let the mask slip away as he kept talking. “After the last time he let Eric down, that day at Dodger Stadium. Shayna called me in a rage, telling me my son was a loser and what he’d done to Eric. I was livid, humiliated that my own offspring could treat his kid so badly. I called him that night and told him to leave the boy alone. If all he was going to do was break his heart, it was better if he wasn’t even around. I told him he was a loser and to never call me again. I was so mad.” His unmasked tears started to fall as regret and anger grew with force. “I never expected him to actually listen to me, but he did. Went AWOL on us all.”

  His lips wobbled and he sniffed.

  It was heartbreaking to watch and I felt my own tears forming, so I quickly pulled Clayton’s mask back up. It would be easier to hear the stone-faced recount, I was sure of it.

  I gazed at Clayton’s calm expression, finding his mild sadness easier to bear. “So you stepped in, took on the role of dad for Eric?”

  “Not at first.” He shook his head. “I still had my responsibilities with the Marines and at the time, Eric’s mom was with a pretty good guy, but then things changed...”

  “Oh, you mean Shayna scored a new man?” I couldn’t help the dry tone; that woman had been around.

  Clayton didn’t react to my sarcasm. Instead he went still, his lips deepening into a frown, his eyes locked on the horizon. Fear skittered through me.

  “Clayton, what happened?”

  “He made me swear never to tell,” the old man whispered.

  “Who?” I turned my body to face him properly, peeling back the mask again and seeing the anguish, the fear. “Declan? Your son called you?”

  Clayton’s jaw clenched. “About a year after I told him to leave us alone, he left a message on my phone telling me he’d gone too far. The boy sounded scared, real genuine fear. Maybe that’s why I believed him.” Clayton’s voice was down to a low whisper now, like he was retelling a dramatic ghost story. The scary thing about it was, it felt real…because it actually was.

  “What did he do?”

  “He didn’t say. He just told me he had to disappear for good to keep everyone safe. He told me to take care of his boy and that if a guy called Marchant ever came looking for one of us, I had to get Eric out of there as fast as I could.” Clayton sniffed. “He also said he was sorry for letting us both down and begged me to keep an eye on Eric, make sure he didn’t turn out to be like him.” Clayton scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked a couple of times. “I tried to get in touch with Dec after that, but he was gone. Maybe I should have called the police, but something in my gut told me to trust my son and leave it alone. I don’t know who Marchant is, but the way Dec said his name...” Clayton pursed his lips. “The man’s a threat, and thank God he’s never surfaced.” Clayton pointed out at the ocean. “My son asked me to do one thing: look after that kid in the water. Eric was fifteen by that stage and I had to admit, I was scared. I had no idea what Declan had gotten himself into.” He huffed and closed his eyes. “But I promised myself to watch over my only grandson, and that’s why I stepped in when Eric got real bad.”

  “His rage stage,” I mumbled.

  “That’s the one. Had a temper just like his daddy. I’d seen it all play out before. When my beautiful May died, Declan was eighteen and he didn’t cope too well. Hell, neither of us did. I was in so much pain, I threw myself into work and Declan just...” Clayton shook his head. “Got lost.”

  I gently squeezed his shoulder, actually feeling his torture as if it were my own. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, it was,” he croaked. “That’s why I couldn’t fail Eric.”

  “You know, he always says you saved his life. Taking him out of school and into the wilderness like you did. It was just what he needed.”

  “Probably should have done the same with Dec, but it was too late by then.”

  “Why have you never told Eric this?”

  “I’d planned on it, but
when I finally got a hold of that hurting little kid, I couldn’t do it. His rage toward his father was unshakeable. I figured if I told him the truth, he’d just hate Declan more for being a loser and putting us all in danger.”

  I turned back to the ocean in time to see Eric jump up on his board and ride the wave, blissfully unaware of our conversation. “I wonder what your son did.”

  “I have no idea. Probably got himself into debt to this Marchant guy. That boy couldn’t resist the money or the cards. The amount of times I had to bail him out…” Clayton punched out a hard laugh that quickly dissipated. “That call, though, that one was different.” His lips pursed and he shook his head. “You know, for all Eric’s hatred towards the man, I think Declan really loves his son, and I think he’d do anything to save Eric’s life.”

  “You should tell Eric that.”

  “It’s been too long now; the boy’d no doubt turn all his anger back at me for hiding the truth for so long. You know how fragile his trust is. I don’t want to be the one to shatter it.”

  I swallowed; dread bubbling in my stomach. The afternoon was going to suck. Closing my eyes, I drew in a breath.

  One conversation at a time, Caity.

  I turned back to Eric’s grandpa. “He needs closure over this whole thing. Maybe if he knew his father disappeared out of love, he’d be able to move on.”

  Clayton grunted, his right shoulder hitching up as if he agreed with me, but didn’t really want to.

  His expression changed to a sunny smile and I glanced back at the sand to see Eric running up the beach toward us.

  “Mouth shut, honey. I’ll tell him in my own good time.” Clayton rose from the sand before I could argue, wiping the sand off his shorts before waving at Eric and heading back to the house.

  “He still mad with me?” Eric laid his board down next to mine and snatched up his towel.

  “No.” I shook my head. “He’s just going in to get breakfast started.”

  Eric gave me a skeptical frown.

  I raised my hands and forced a light laugh. “Can you seriously imagine that guy holding a grudge against you? His cherished grandson? Come on.”