“That’s it, guys.” Zebulund stands, eyes squinted from his massive grin. “Everybody’s having a great time.” He adjusts his junk. “Gotta see a man about a horse.” The deck shakes as he clomps out of the cabin.
I don’t miss the covert look Roe shoots me. Yeah, he feels weirdness too.
“Come on, man, you know we’re just ragging on you because we wuv you,” Craig raises his drink in a slurred salute. “Lighten up.”
Roe, and maybe Zebulund, are the only remotely sober people at the table. This comment only pushes Viktor further into his dark mood.
“Yeah, heaven forbid anybody not have a good time on Zebulund’s dime,” Viktor says.
Roe finds my gaze and we share a quick “what the hell does that mean?” look.
“Maybe time to cash out, friend,” Kyle says quietly to his hand, adjusting the cards.
“Fuck you.” He grumbles something else unintelligible. I sneak behind him to hear his drunken ramblings better. Now we’re getting somewhere with this. When he starts to talk again, I lean in. “I know you’re sick of…”
Viktor’s mumbling into his drink so I can’t hear what he says. I shake my head and look up to see if Roe understands him.
But Roe’s eyes are wide with controlled panic. The deck dips behind me as the smell of cigar and cologne engulfs me. Zebulund has walked back into the room when I wasn’t paying attention and is right behind me. I don’t move. If I step even an inch my naked back will be pressed into him. I’m trapped, naked, in front of the man I loathe with my entire being.
9
Roe
My heart raceswith the effort it takes not to lunge for Maggie. Not only is she absolutely horrified, frozen in place, but we’re seconds from being found out. She’s positioned between Viktor and Zebulund without either of them touching her, but if she shifts an inch she’ll bump one or the other. Zebulund’s so close he must be breathing caustic air down her exposed back.
I could flip the table to cause a distraction. Or I could stand up and yell something. But neither of these ideas strike me as genius.
“What’s going on?” Zebulund asks.
His arms cross and he examines each one of us. I don’t know if he heard Viktor’s cryptic little comment or if he senses the palpable tension. Something has to crack. And now.
Suddenly, Maggie sidesteps from between the two and not a heartbeat too soon. Zebulund moves forward to place his hands heavily on Viktor’s shoulders. I glance at her for a brief second. She’s outside the circle of light but there’s enough to reveal her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide. She’s shaken, but it’s more than that. Something deeper—her gaze is inward and she’s withdrawn. I wish I could go to her and comfort her. Instead, I focus on controlling this situation.
I let out a slow breath I didn’t even know was stuck in my chest. Viktor winces as his body tenses, curling in on itself, as Zebulund’s aggressive rubbing increases. Zebulund kneads the man’s shoulders like dough. The actor’s eyes water even through his altered state.
“Nothing. We’re ragging on Viktor.” Kyle’s tone is light-hearted. His voice a little too forced.
“But we’re all relaxed, having a good time, right?” Zebulund asks.
Immediately the guys chime in with a chorus of, “Yeah, oh yeah, of course.”
“Good, good,” he says as Viktor’s face contorts. “I want everybody to have a good time.” His voice is smooth as his thumbs dig deep into flesh.
I have to act. The table we’re playing at probably cost more than any car I ever had growing up. It’s a beautiful, expensive piece with inset pockets for the cards and chips. Something has to be done. I jerk my hand out and knock over a beer.
“Oh shit. Fuck.” I jump back. I leave and quickly come back with a towel to sop up the beer.
“Spills happen, my friend. It’s only a table.” Zebulund lumbers back to his seat and waves off my worry.
A table worth a fortune, but sure.
“Chill out, Roe,” Craig chimes in. “This isn’t a first date.”
“This is more action than I get on a date, that’s for sure.” I laugh at myself and throw up my hands.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Zebulund chimes in and we all laugh. Too hard.
This breaks the tension and though Viktor remains mostly quiet, we find the rhythm again and are back to playing in no time. An hour ticks by at least. I’m more than ready to go. I think up excuses to leave, because I don’t get the impression that Maggie is getting anything out of this either. She’s been loitering on the edge of the table like a bored poltergeist, going from player to player. I’m straining my eyes trying not to stare at her figure every time she passes me. It’s so hard. The not-staring, I mean.
