by Nella Tyler
No one was allowed to stand behind me or within a certain distance of me, but that didn't prevent those were drunk, or pretending to be drunk, occasionally stumbling beyond the boundaries. The moment that happened, the pit boss or security would immediately step in. It was amazing, really, how many different ways there were to cheat. The fact that I hadn't pinpointed Ben's method wasn't surprising. He could be a math whiz for all I knew, able to determine after dealing the first run of cards the chances of a particular card showing up on the next run.
But none of that was my problem, was it? I might have an inkling that someone was cheating, but until I saw definitive signs or proof, I couldn't just very well go accusing them of it, could I?
Unfortunately, Savannah hadn't been able to give me any specific advice about what I should do. Neither one of us had exactly been put into this position before. It was new territory for me, that's for sure. The fact that Ben trying to get in touch with me disturbed me. Was he going to try to convince me to join him again? Was he going to try to shrug it off and say that it was no big deal? Was he going to apologize, and then pretend it never happened?
Even if he did apologize, would it change my feelings about him? I didn't want to think so. He had shown some different colors, and I didn't like those colors one bit. Instead of taking his proposition as a compliment, I had received it as an insult to my character. An insult to the person I was? And if he hadn't been able to see the type of person I was after the times we had gone out or the number of times he had sat in front of me at my Blackjack table, then he was blind. That, or extremely obtuse.
At this point, I didn't really care. I didn't need these problems. I wanted him to go away. I wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, not that they were that great, but at least, I felt comfortable. Now, everything was such an uncertainty. It would be extremely awkward if he came to sit at my table tonight. What would I say? What could I say?
I spent the rest of the day moping around my apartment, lounging, watching TV, and otherwise trying to ignore my thoughts about Ben, what he had done, and what he had said. He tried calling a couple more times that afternoon, but again I refused to answer. He left voice mails each time and I deleted them without listening. It made me feel bad, no doubt about it, but I had to be firm. He had to know that he had stepped way beyond the bounds of friendship in propositioning me the way he had.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I asked the iPhone out loud after I had deleted the last voice mail, my voice heavy with frustration. Of course I got no answer.
*
To my surprise, Ben didn't show up at my Blackjack table last night. To say that I felt relieved was a certainty because I really didn't want to see him right now. At the same time I felt a little disappointed. So that was it? Had he disappeared? Had he left town? Or worse yet, had he found someone else to ply with gifts, charm, and sex to get them to do what he requested?
If I wasn't careful, I would work myself up into quite a dither, so I just tried to focus on work. A couple of regulars showed up at my table during my shift, but so did plenty of new faces. For the first time in several days, I felt relaxed at my job. I didn't feel as if the pit bosses had targets painted on my back.
After my shift, still mentally exhausted and emotionally wrung out, I went home. I didn't even turn on the lights, but locked my front door and headed straight for my bedroom. In the dark, I undressed and then put on my pajamas, or what served as my pajamas anyway: a cut off pair of gym shorts and a tank top. I climbed into bed and immediately fell asleep with no bad dreams.
*
The following morning, I woke feeling refreshed. I made a pot of coffee, thinking that today would be a good day. It was going to be a good day. I demanded it. I was going to move forward from this, and not dwell on it. Unfortunately, my good feelings and the best of my intentions fell by the wayside when I glanced at my phone. Several missed calls and at least five text messages from Ben. I wasn't surprised that I hadn't noticed last night because I had turned the ring tone off on my phone while at work with my phone was tucked inside my purse in my locker. I hadn't even looked at it when I got home.
I stared at the phone for several moments. In a way, I felt good about seeing all these messages. I hoped he felt bad. I hoped he felt guilty. I hoped he was sorry. But then what? I decided to listen to the voice mails and at least look at the text messages. I would see what he had to say and then decide whether I was going to respond or not. I knew I shouldn't. I should cut him off completely, but the thought of doing that didn't appeal to me. Maybe, just maybe, I could encourage Ben to get back on the right track.
Why not? He had everything going for him. He was rich, handsome, and smart. Anyone who could count cards or whatever he did and get away with it was obviously not stupid when it came to the logistics of the game. Just because he was stupid in regard to his relationships at the moment didn't mean that there wasn't room for improvement. But did I want to deal with Ben? Was I naïve to think that I could change him? I had heard and read of so many people claiming it wasn't fair to try to change the people you dated to be more of what you wanted them to be. It was important to accept people the way they were.
So, there was a conundrum. Then again, I don't think that those people were talking about others doing illegal or dangerous things. Who wouldn't want to change such behaviors? The plain truth of the matter was that I still had feelings for Ben. I didn't want to see him hurt. I certainly didn't want to see him lose control and end up being swallowed up by a whirlpool that pulled him down deeper and deeper into deceit and inevitable destruction.
Anybody with as much money as Ben had could certainly do good things with it: invest properly or start new businesses. Why did he feel the need to gamble? Was it just the thrill of the game or was he truly obsessed? Was he an addict? I didn't want to deal with such addictions. I had experienced some of that living at home. My older brother was an alcoholic, and his erratic behaviors, mood swings, and emotional dramas, the ups and the downs, the good days and the bad days had taken their toll on the entire family. Addiction was addiction whether it was an eating disorder, drugs, smoking, or alcohol. Gambling was just the same.
I wasn't a psychologist and I didn't have the tools to totally understand, let alone tackle such behaviors. So here it was: if I resumed communication with Ben, I had one of two choices. Either I could go along with him, accept him the way he was, warts and all, even if he was a gambling addict, or I could try to steer him away from gambling, to live life on the straight and narrow.
I shook my head. That was rather pompous of me, wasn't it? We weren't even officially dating and already I was positioning myself as his sponsor, a guardian angel trying to protect him from all the bad things in life. Well, damn it, Ben was losing control of himself, or I thought he was. If he wanted to gamble his money away, that was no business of mine. But one thing was certain. I wasn't going to be dragged down into the mess with him.
It wasn't like I didn't like to play cards. I did. I enjoyed a casual game of Poker and Blackjack once in a while. I liked winning, no doubt about it, but I wasn't about to stoop to the level of cheating to get there. I didn't have the money to spend on such frivolous activities and while the thought of cheating lured many, and no doubt extra money would certainly come in handy in my life, I had my standards. There were certain lines that I just could not, would not cross.
I shook my head as I finally succumbed and accessed the voicemail messages:
“Maggie it's me. I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to try to get you to help me."
“Will you call me back, Maggie? I need to talk to you. I can't tell you how sorry I am."
“Maggie. I'm sorry I asked you to help me this way. What else do you want me to say? I can't take it back, but I can say that I'm really, really sorry for asking."
So what was all that about? I wondered. Okay, I got the message that he was sorry for asking me to help him. At the same time, I realized that he hadn’t said anythi
ng about being sorry for cheating. All he was sorry about was that he had asked me to help him. That didn't sound good. He appeared totally unapologetic about the cheating itself.
I accessed several of the text messages, realized that they were much the same in tone. With a sigh of disappointment, I deleted the voicemails and the text messages. I didn't call him back, and I didn't text him back, either. I didn't even want to deal with what he was saying. I couldn't bear to hear the sound of his voice.
His attitude surprised me. Ben had always appeared a little flamboyant and arrogant, but not in an obnoxious way. Did he really feel that he had done nothing wrong? Did he really think that it was okay to cheat? Who had raised him this way? What in his life had propelled him into thinking that this kind of behavior was acceptable? And if he didn't get it by now, I certainly wasn't going to beat them over the head with it, never mind helping him get on the right track.
I had an early shift today, so I had to be in to work at about five o'clock. I spent most of the day just sitting on the couch, staring out the window, and thinking about things. I still felt incredibly hurt. Insulted. Shocked that someone would come right out and ask me to do something like that. Wasn't he making enough money? Wasn't he winning enough?
I grew impatient with myself at the thousands of questions running through my head since the moment I met him. It seemed as if all I did anymore was ask myself questions. Was it time to cut him loose? I should. I had a feeling that involvement in Ben's life would involve more drama than I was willing to deal with right now.
I wanted to call Savannah, get her advice, but decided not to. This was my problem, not hers. I was the one that was going to have to make some hard decisions. I was honest with myself, even if Ben couldn't be. Did I want to see him get hurt? Absolutely not. Did I want to see him banished from the casino? Still another no. At the same time, was Ben worth risking my job and my future security over?
I had to be realistic here. I had very little money saved up. If I got fired from the casino, I might be able to pay my bills for a month, but not much more than that. If I lost this apartment, where would I go? I had enough money to pay my regular bills, but I didn't have enough money to pay the first, last, and security deposit on another place. This was already one of the cheaper apartment buildings in town. Sure, I could find something cheaper, but I didn't want to live in a bug-infested dump or in a place that was filled with crack addicts, drunks, and sexual offenders, which was pretty much the next round down from where I lived.
Chapter 3
By the time I got to work that evening, I still hadn't made a decision. I tried to push thoughts of Ben out of my mind completely, wanting only to focus on my work tonight. I was hoping for another calm, peaceful, and emotion-free shift. For the first hour or two, it appeared to be going much as it had the previous evening. Then, I glanced up after a deal and my heart skipped a beat. There he was, walking into the casino with a grin, just like he normally did. My heart accelerated as he headed for my table. I wanted to shout at him. No! Go to someone else's table! Go to a different casino! I don't want to see you!
He sat down at my table and smiled up at me. He didn't say anything, and I certainly didn't say anything to him, either. I tried to ignore him. When I passed him cards, I avoided looking at his eyes. I watched his hands, like I watched the hands of the other players as they gestured they wanted a hit or whether they wanted to stay. Unfortunately, once Ben made a reappearance, I felt eyes on me. One time, I glanced unobtrusively over my shoulder and saw the pit boss watching me. I hadn't felt his eyes on me last night, so what was going on? Had they began to suspect that Ben was cheating in some way?
My shift seemed to last forever. I couldn't wait for it to end. I shifted from one foot to the other as unobtrusively as possible as the hours passed. I didn't say one word to Ben, and he didn't say one word to me. Then, at the end of my shift, with my stomach definitely feeling upset and a headache pounding behind my eyes, I waited for my replacement to take over. Once the process of the changeover was completed, I quickly hurried to the locker room.
On one hand, I was relieved that Ben hadn't made much effort to talk to me, but on the other, I felt particularly annoyed. I left the casino by the side door, quickly glanced around, and didn't see anybody loitering in the parking lot. I quickly made my way around the side of the building and headed toward my car. I was parked near one of the parking lot lamps, which I normally didn't do because I didn't like the moths that floated around, didn't want any of them to get into my car. At any rate, I was walking down the aisle toward my car, my eyes focused on it while pulling my keys out of my purse when I heard the voice behind me.
"Maggie, wait up."
His voice was soft, not urgent or desperate. I paused, stiffened my back, but refused to turn and look at him. Dammit. In a matter of seconds, he was standing next to me. I refused to look at him, so he took an extra step or two and planted himself right in front of me. I looked up into his face, trying to keep my own expression blank. Damn him! In spite of my anger, in spite of my frustration and the insult he had delivered me, I continued to find him one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. A slight shadow darkened his cheeks and he didn't look like he had shaved in a couple of days. His expression did look truly apologetic.
He had one of his hands around his back, and as I glanced at it, he brought it in front of him. He held a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't an outrageous or overly expensive bouquet, just a simple bouquet of daisies and a few red roses. He extended the bouquet toward me.
"I'm sorry, Maggie," he said. "What can I do to make it up to you?"
For some reason, his words angered me, brought up the deep sense of pain and hurt that he had delivered. "The last thing I want from you is gifts, Ben!" I emphasize the point by stamping my foot. "Don't you get it?"
He appeared totally surprised. Could it really be so dense? Why was it that one of the most handsome guys I have ever met had no concept of what I was feeling? Had he been out with so many gold diggers and women who dated him only for his money that he had no idea how to treat someone who wasn't at all interested in his bloody money?
"Help me understand, Maggie, please," he said.
He seemed genuine. I shook my head, not really wanting to have this conversation. I was tired. I wanted to go home and go to bed, to forget that he even existed. Life had been so much simpler before Ben had entered my life! "I want someone who respects me, Ben, and someone to keep my feelings in mind. It's not complicated! Actually, it's quite simple!"
"Look, Maggie, I'm really sorry. I want to be able to make it up to you. I take it back-"
"Ben, once words leave your lips, you can't take them back. You know that. And you can't take this back, either. You can't make it better. Besides, the only thing right now that will make things better is for you to leave me alone."
"Is that what you really want, Maggie?"
He sounded hurt, but I had to harden my heart and block my feelings. I didn't want to be this way, really I didn't. It wasn’t what I really wanted, but I had to do it. I had to put some distance between us. Had to protect my heart, my job… I didn’t want to push him out of my life. But I knew that I couldn't deal with Ben the way he was. It was just too traumatic. Too emotional. I was still going through the healing process following the mess of my first marriage, and here came Ben. He was the opposite of my first husband, but still with more warts than I had the energy or the capacity to deal with at this point in my life.
"It's not about what I want, Ben. It's about what I have the capacity to deal with right now. And right now, I don't need this drama. I don't need to get involved in your life like this. I have to keep my job. If I don't, I'll lose everything that I've worked so hard to achieve." I grew angry and pointed my finger at him. "You might have all the money in the world at your disposal, but I don't! If I lose my job, I'll be out on the street in about a month. And you dared to ask me to-" I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head. "No."
&nbs
p; "But, Maggie, you wouldn’t be out on the street," he said, his voice imploring, but not begging. "I wouldn't let that happen."
I offered a half laugh, a half cry. "Ben, you're not listening to what I'm saying. You're hearing me, but you're not listening. Like I said, the only way that you can make things better is to leave me alone."
"Do you really mean that, Maggie? Really?"
"Yes, dammit!" I nearly shouted. The tears started pooling in my eyes and I would be damned if he saw them. I quickly brushed past him and made my way to my car. He didn't follow. By the time I was shoving the key blindly into the key block, I heard him walking away. I nearly let out a sob when I saw the bouquet of flowers lying on the ground. I hated to hurt him. I wanted to scream and shout at him, to beg him to change, that if he could do that; I'd be willing to give him another chance. But I knew better. Empty promises were not something I was looking for.
I managed to get home without losing it completely, but the minute I entered my apartment and shut the door behind me, the sobs took hold. My shoulders shaking, I leaned against the door for several minutes, allowing the tears pour out of my eyes while heart-wrenching sobs erupted from my chest and throat. Damn him! Damn him to hell!
*
The following morning, Savannah and I went out for brunch before work. We talked about what happened the night before with Ben. Savannah seemed to be much more understanding regarding my feelings and emotions and while Ben was a guy who had no qualms about lavishing the women he dated with expensive gifts, she agreed with me that he had overstepped the bounds of propriety.
Since we had ready beaten that horse into the ground, I wanted to ask her opinion about whether I had responded correctly to Ben’s claims of apology. I told her about the bouquet of flowers, his apology, and the fact that I had not accepted the flowers and had adamantly told him to leave me alone.