Double or Nothing

by Brooke Carter

  By the time I get to the arena, the place is packed. I worry I won’t be able to find Dillon in the crowd. But he stands out in the best way. As the sea of people filters through the gates, I spot him. Tall, dark, dressed in black, leaning with a casual indifference against one of the barriers.

  I have the impulse to turn and run away. I’m so into him, but I wonder if I’m the kind of girl he needs. He’s got his life together. He’s on track. I’m a mess.

  Dillon sees me before I can leave. “Essie!” he calls out, his face breaking into that crooked grin that dissolves any thoughts I had of leaving.

  He strides over. “Hey,” he says, reaching in to give me a hug.

  When his arms wrap around me, I fall into him, until he’s supporting the full weight of me with his own long body. He’s so warm.

  “Hey,” he says again, softer this time. “You really know how to hug.”

  “Warm,” I murmur.

  He laughs.

  We pull away, and I feel shy until he takes my hand.

  “Ready for some hockey?” he asks.

  “Sure.” I let him lead me inside.

  The game is…well, the game. I honestly don’t know what’s going on, other than the fact that our team is winning. Dillon is stoked, and I can’t take my eyes off him as he eats his pretzel. He chews with those lips I love and hoots with excitement whenever one of the players does something good.

  No matter how adorable Dillon is, my mind can’t stop drifting to the cash in my bag. I should get it to the gangsters, pay down as much as possible, beg for more time, get myself straight and just be a boring college student from now on.

  I’ve noticed some guys moving through the crowd with their notebooks, hanging around the bathrooms. Shifty eyes and hard faces. Drug dealers, some of them. And some of them are bookies.

  Just watch the game, Ester. Focus on Dillon. Aggie’s in my head again.

  As if on cue, my phone buzzes. Of course it’s Aggie. Ugh. ALL CAPS again.

  HEY I TALKED TO DAD.

  WHY DID YOU NEED MONEY FROM HIM TOO?

  ARE YOU GOING TO PAY ME BACK?

  WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU?

  ESTER I SWEAR…

  I can’t deal with this right now. If Aggie finds out the truth, I’ll never live down the shame. She’ll make me feel guilty for the rest of my life. I feel anger boiling in my stomach.

  “Hey,” I shout to Dillon over the noise. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”

  “Want me to come?” he shouts back.

  I shake my head, wave him off and head up the aisle.

  It takes me two minutes to find the guy. I’ve never met this bookie, but we know each other all the same. He’s real greasy-looking, and he nods for me to follow him into the accessible washroom.

  “It’s late in the game,” he says.

  “I know.” Am I really doing this?

  “I’ll only stake a long shot.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You gotta bet against home winning, and it’s gotta be by a minimum of two points, or no deal.”

  “But home is winning.”

  “Exactly.”

  I sigh. “What’s the payout?”

  “Three to one,” he says.

  I fish out my cash and hand him everything I’ve got. If I win, I can pay off the gangsters and be up a bit.

  “You sure, kid?” he asks, but he’s already pocketing the money. He hands me a slip of paper. “If you win, this is how you collect.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter and hurry back to my seat. I’m suddenly very interested in the game.

  As I watch the players fighting to win, and the crowd cheering them on, I think about how I will always find myself here. It’s not about the money. It’s not even about winning or losing. It’s about hating myself, punishing myself and then seeking redemption in all the wrong ways. I usually have these moments of clarity after I’ve made a decision I can’t come back from. Once I’ve made it through, I’ll forget all over again.

  Now, instead of enjoying a date with Dillon, I’m focused on the impossible. I’ve bet it all against the home team. Before I can even wrap my mind around it, the buzzer sounds and the game is over. The home team wins. And I lose.

  As the crowd goes wild around me, cheering and screaming and waving colored towels, their jerseys a sea of ecstatic blue and white and green, I feel like I’ve left my body. I have the sensation of floating above the crowd and seeing Dillon grab me. I watch as he presses his lips into mine, and I think, How sad that I can’t be here to feel this.

  But I am here. This is my life. For how much longer, I don’t know.

  Chapter Nine

  The next several days are a waking nightmare. I’m so exhausted from not sleeping that I keep falling asleep everywhere and then jolting awake as if I’ve been shocked. Strange, static bolts zip up the back of my neck, and my fingers and feet tingle. It hurts, and I wonder if a person can die from stress. The few classes I’ve tried to attend have ended in disaster. I can’t concentrate, can’t speak when called upon and spend the whole time trying not to throw up before bolting out of the room.

  Aggie has been stalking me, waiting outside my classes to try to intercept me. I dodge her yet again but decide to finally text her back.

  Sorry. Super busy.

  You can’t avoid me 4ever. You owe me big-time!

  Thanks for not ratting me out to Mom and Dad.

  Need 2 meet up and talk. No Twin Time in weeks!

  I’ll meet u tonight. I’m bringing Dillon. U guys

  can finally meet. But u have to be good!

  Whatever. Fine. Bring yr man.

  Agatha. Promise. Don’t embarrass me.

  Ok I promise. If u stand me up again, all bets are off.

  I think I’ve managed to get her off my back. The only thing I have to worry about now is that everywhere I go, I see John Jr. and Big Steve. Am I cracking up? I see them in reflections on windows. I catch a glimpse of a tracksuited guy in a hallway. Sometimes I think I see that suspicious tan car again too. I wonder if it’s someone who works for them. Are they following me?

  I’ve been staying at Dillon’s a lot, getting lost in him. In his dark eyes and his long body and the things he knows how to do. I could kiss him for a thousand years.

  I like everything about Dillon’s off-campus apartment. He shares it with a couple other guys, and it’s messy, but I’m pleased to see that he has a ton of books. We stay up late watching old movies and making out and more. So much more. I can see how easily Dillon could become an addiction all on his own. He even has a taste I crave.

  It’s at the coffee shop, when I’m waiting for Aggie to get off work and for Dillon to show up, that John Jr. and Big Steve finally come for me.

  I look up from my latte and watch as John Jr. approaches my table in the back corner. Big Steve loiters near the doorway, cracking his knuckles. They stick out in their flashy clothes, amid all the hipsters with beards. For a second I wonder if I should run. I cast a nervous glance over to the coffee bar to see if Aggie is watching, but she’s absorbed in her job.

  John Jr. puts out his hand and motions for me to stay put. “Relax, kid,” he says. “We’re just here to talk.”

  I look past him to Big Steve. Just beyond him, on the street, is that weird tan car. It does belong to them!

  “H-hi, John Jr.,” I manage. “Listen, I’m really sorry—”

  “Save it,” he snaps. “You think this has never happened before?” He leans in so close that I can smell his cologne.

  I swallow hard.

  “Look. I like you, kid. And my idiot brother never should’ve staked you in that game. But you made your choice. You could’ve walked away with a fine pot. Instead you blew it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I have a problem.”

  John Jr. nods. “You’re right you gotta problem. And it’s gonna get a lot worse if I don’t get my money.”

  Big Steve waddles over, turning sideways to get through the c
rowded shop, a smarmy smile on his face. “I can think of a way for her to pay off her debt,” he says. “With that pretty face and young body.”

  My whole body goes cold. No, anything but that.

  John Jr. looks irritated. “Shut up, Stevo.” Then he says to me, “But he is right. Either you come up with the money in one week, all of it, or you gotta come work for us.”

  Work for him? “I…how?”

  “You’re a pretty girl. You can come work after hours, help the patrons get liquored up. Encourage them to gamble more,” he says.

  My mind flashes to the cocktail waitress who served me ginger ale at the poker game. “You mean in a bikini?” I squeak.

  Big Steve laughs.

  “Of course, we have other things on offer besides poker games and booze,” says John Jr. “Things your rich college friends might want.”

  I get it now. They want me to sell drugs.

  “One week. You’ll get all of it. I promise.”

  “One week,” John Jr. repeats as they turn to go. He nods his head toward the coffee bar. “Or we pay a visit to her first. To Agatha.”

  My blood turns to ice at the mention of her name. Not Aggie. I shake my head furiously, but John Jr. just smiles a cold smile as he leaves. They walk out the door just as Dillon arrives.

  He heads over to me, a strange look on his face. I’m dreading his questions.

  “Hey.” He leans in to give me a quick kiss on the forehead.

  I can barely feel it. My whole body has gone numb.

  “What were those guys doing here?” he asks.

  I shrug. “What guys?”

  Dillon sits down and stares at me. “Es, I saw them talking to you.”

  “Oh…that one guy, the short and muscly one, is always asking me out.”

  Dillon considers this. “Okay,” he says at last. “I was worried maybe you were on drugs.” He narrows his eyes. “Because that’s not cool with me.”

  I laugh it off. “Of course not,” I say. “I’m on an academic scholarship. I’m not on drugs.”

  “Right,” he says. “You’re a smarty-pants. That’s why I like you,” he adds, sliding closer to me. He starts to kiss me, but we’re interrupted by Aggie.

  “Ahem,” she says in a dramatic way.

  “Great timing, as usual,” I say as we pull apart.

  “You must be Aggie,” says Dillon, standing up to offer his hand. Ever the gentleman.

  “I am.” Aggie smiles. “And you must be the infamous Dillon.”

  Chapter Ten

  Coffee is…fine. It is a little painful having Aggie and Dillon both together in the same room. Aggie learns all about Dillon’s passion for skateboarding, and Dillon learns all about…me. Aggie will not shut up. She tells so many embarrassing anecdotes from our childhood that it is a relief when the coffee shop starts to close.

  Dillon and I say goodbye to Aggie, but not before she whispers about us needing to talk in private. I promise her I’ll see her the next day, and we leave with hugs all around.

  Dillon walks me back to my dorm building.

  “We could just go back to my apartment,” he says, looking down at me with a half-smile. I swear he knows just how much that look really gets to me.

  “I want to,” I say. “But I have a lot to do.”

  “I understand. I’ve been falling behind on my work too. You’re so distracting.” He leans in for a kiss. I wish I could just lose myself in it. How amazing it would be to focus on him, on his lips and his body, without worrying about my massive gambling debt and the gangsters who threatened my twin.

  Dillon leaves, and I just want to go inside and curl up on my bed. But I see the glint of headlights in the parking lot across the lawn. When they go off, I see that it’s that same tan car.

  How dare they threaten Aggie? My Aggie, the only person in this world I love more than myself. Before I can change my mind, I march across the rain-soaked lawn.

  The driver’s-side window slides down. I expect to see a couple of gangster types. Instead I come face-to-face with a young woman. I’m starting to think I’ve gone insane. I’ve mistaken a poor college student for a stalker.

  Then she speaks. “Hello, Ester,” she says. “I’m Detective Crowley.”

  Oh shit.

  “Get in,” she says.

  I hesitate.

  “Hurry up before my cover is well and truly blown,” she says, irritated.

  “But I don’t understand.”

  “Your name is Ester Tomasi, you’ve got a terrible gambling problem, and you’re in debt to a crime family. Sound about right?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, now get in.” She holds up her badge. “Or we can do this at the station.”

  I walk around to the other side of the car. The lock shifts open, and I get in. It’s warm inside, and even though it looks like a beater car, it still smells new.

  Detective Crowley turns to me. “You okay?”

  “Not really.” I have so many questions.

  “I know,” she says. “How am I old enough to be a cop? I have a young face. I got this detail because I can pass for a college student. We tend to focus on drugs and prostitution here on campus, but we know all about the gambling ring your friends have going.”

  “They’re not my friends,” I say.

  “And they’re into more than gambling. We think they’re supplying a lot of drugs to the region.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Well, you could talk. We’ll protect you.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” I say. “They could hurt my family.”

  “I want you to think about it, Ester. We can get you the help you need.” She hands me a card. It’s blank save for a phone number. “Call anytime.”

  I get out and hurry back to my dorm. I don’t think I can take any more of this. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. I’m going to have to come clean.

  Chapter Eleven

  Back in my room I curl up on my bed, feeling low and paranoid. I’m going to call my parents. I will tell them everything. But I can’t seem to get up the nerve to make the call. My phone rings. In a true gift from the universe, it’s them, Mom and Dad.

  I pick up the phone with trembling fingers. “Hello?”

  “Hi there, favorite twin,” says Dad. I can hear Mom in the background, chattering at him. “Hang on,” he says to me. “What?” I hear him ask her. He comes back. “Sorry, your mom wants to know if it’s lasagna or ziti or both.”

  “Huh? For what?”

  “For dinner. We just spoke with Agatha, and she said she is driving you down tomorrow to spend a couple days of reading break with us.”

  Reading break. Of course! I had forgotten that we have a week off school. Agatha must have planned this, but at least it doesn’t sound like she said anything about my debt. A break could be the best thing. If I leave town now, I could talk to Mom and Dad about the money and have it all sorted out before John Jr.’s deadline. I wouldn’t have to deal with Detective Crowley.

  “Ester?” Dad says. “You there?”

  “Huh? Yeah, I’m here. I’ll come,” I say.

  “But what about the food, Ester? You know if I don’t tell your mother something soon, she’s going to start yelling.”

  I laugh. “Both,” I say. “Tell Mom to make both.”

  I hang up, feeling more alive, and then send Dillon a quick text letting him know I’ll be away. He sends back a few sad face emojis and a note:

  I’ll miss you, smarty-pants. Hurry back.

  Just when I’m down as low as I can go, something comes along to lift me back up. What are the odds?

  Chapter Twelve

  Aggie is happy to have me all to herself for a long car ride. She has gone full Agatha. A preplanned playlist of our favorite songs (some punk on there for me), unhealthy road snacks, including packaged jerky and a huge bag of candy, and an irritating assortment of road games.

  Normally the games would be a deal-breaker for
me, but I’m just so grateful to be alone with her for a while. I’ve missed our Twin Time™ so much.

  There’s something a little weird about how she’s keeping everything so basic and light. It’s not like Aggie to be so nonconfrontational. As she drives, I consider asking her outright. I go for something more subtle.

  “Everything okay, Ag?” I ask.

  “Hmm? Yeah, why?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug. “You’re just so cheery, I guess.”

  She laughs. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “No, not bad at all.”

  We drive, and she switches to her downer Swedish electronic playlist. It’s putting me to sleep.

  “You look tired,” she says. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  “You’re okay to drive the rest of the way?”

  “No worries. We’ll be there soon.”

  I recline my seat and drift off.

  When I wake up, we’re at a rest stop close to home. I sit up and look out the window. Aggie is sitting on a picnic table, looking down at her phone. I get out of the car and stretch, walking over to her stiffly.

  “Ugh,” I groan. “Remind me not to catch up on sleep in a Volkswagen again. Bad idea.” I stop when I see her face. She’s crying.

  “Aggie, what’s wrong?” My heart starts to pound.

  She speaks to me through gritted teeth, and that’s when I understand she’s not sad. And she’s not holding her phone. She’s holding mine. “When were you going to tell me?”