“Well? What happened?” The chair creaks as he leans forward to glare at the man.
Craig takes a big drink to swallow down the rest of his mouthful. “Nothing. I slipped.” He sweeps up the crumbs with his hands and avoids eye contact. But despite his nonchalance, he’s pale and keeps glancing over his shoulder.
It’s working. All the players are slowly cracking. Zebulund must sense it because his jokes get louder and more offensive. I’m back at Viktor. Poor kid is close to blacking out. He squints one eye as he studies the table, swaying in his seat. I don’t know why they don’t take him back to his room.
But I’m not here to help. I’m here to see what the deal is with Zebulund and his cronies. I take my finger and run it along the back of Viktor’s neck. It’s gentle and caressing. He shoots up in his seat and looks around frantically. When he swats the air I have enough time to jump out of the way without being slapped. He’s coming off as a crazy person to everyone. Kyle stops mid-drink with the bottle to his lips, staring. His gaze flicks toward Craig, who has dropped the toothpick from his mouth. Viktor notices everyone watching too and stops. He faces Roe.
“Stop.” Viktor glares at Roe.
Roe holds up his hands. Everyone sees he’s too far away to be messing with Viktor, plus both his hands grip the cards.
"You touched my neck." Viktor shouts at him but he says it almost as a question. Like even as he says it, he realizes it couldn't have been Roe.
"Are we still playing or not?" Roe studies his hand closely.
“Isn’t that the question?” Viktor pushes back from the table but stumbles with the effort.
“I’m sure it was the breeze or something.” Roe tries to reel them in.
“Yeah, you keep fucking saying that,” Viktor grumbles.
“Chill out, Viktor.” Kyle’s expression is pointed.
It’s enough to get Viktor to collapse back into his chair. The two men glare at each other, and for a group of supposed best friends these men are short-fused with one another. I’m about to flick Viktor’s ear when Roe meets my eyes and shakes his head subtly. I shrug in question, but he flits his gaze toward Zebulund. That’s when I notice he’s watching Roe closely. Neither man says anything. Okay, maybe this isn’t working. I’m hoping to work up Zebulund, freak him out a little, but as always he’s jovial and unflappable.
I stumble to the safety of the kitchen counter and sit on the floor. The night has exhausted me. On top of working all evening and getting accosted, I’ve spent hours going Under. It hits me hard, and my lips are so chapped that if I smile they’ll crack and bleed. The room keeps blurring and zooming in and out. I want to lie down and rest my eyes for a minute. Or a year.
I shake my head and pinch my cheek a little. Definitely won’t be able to stay Under if I pass out. This night needs to hurry up and I need a freaking drink of water. But I take a few steadying breaths and then go back to finish what I’ve started. When in the room I stumble a little, but it’s Roe’s chair I correct my balance on. He listens intently to a story Zebulund is telling, about some other ridiculous party, and doesn’t even flinch as I fall into him. His hand goes to mine. He plays like he’s rubbing some tension out of his neck when he squeezes my hand. I’m so taken by the action I can’t move. My heart kicks up a notch.
He squeezes one more time and lets go. It causes just enough adrenaline to motivate me. A part of me feels bad for doing this but my gut tells me we are close to getting some reaction from Zebulund. I reach over Viktor, leaning heavily into him, grab his hand of cards, and throw them in the air. Chaos erupts as I rush to the safety of the kitchen.
* * *
Roe
We all standup at once. Maggie barely misses running into Viktor in her quick retreat.
“I didn’t do it!” Viktor yells. “I didn’t fucking do that.” He sways as he rubs his hands through his hair and face like there’re a thousand ants crawling over his skin.
“Calm down,” Kyle says, but he’s up and pacing, not really talking to anybody.
Craig swears and mumbles about some “fucked-up shit going down in the middle of the goddamn ocean.”
To calm them down and give myself some time, I hold up my arms. Maggie stumbles to the floor by the door, I think she’s trying to make it to the kitchen but has lost all strength. She’s curled in a ball and I worry the blurred edges of her profile will become clear to everyone.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I’m saying. I don’t know who I’m talking to either.
“Don’t tell me it’s another breeze,” Zebulund says quietly, but I hear it.
He’s standing with arms crossed. There’s a barely visible sheen of sweat on his brow. A bulbous vein in his forehead throbs fast enough to match my own racing pulse. This is a terrible fucking plan and I know it.
What the hell was Maggie hoping to prove? Zebulund’s the only one who isn’t in a full-blown state of distress. When Viktor stumbles back and misses his chair, he sprawls to the deck.
“I’m taking Viktor back to his room. It’s been a long night. I think I need to go lie down too,” I explain.
“Good plan.” Zebulund studies me through squinted eyes.
“What time is it even?” Craig runs a hand over his face. He closes one eye to read his phone. “Fuck. I’m still drunk. I’m going to go watch the sun come up.” He steps over Viktor without a pause in his step.
