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“I don’t have another ten.” I raise my hands to the ceiling. “I didn’t even really have the five I lost last night. I needed that money. I told you I couldn’t lose it. You said the guys there were flashy. Donkeys. But they fucking ganged up on me. Shoved me out. I lost it all.”
The reality that I may not actually get on that plane Saturday morning hits me hard, and the burning in my eyes only fuels my anger.
“Hey, there are never any guarantees, you know that. The cards don’t go your way sometimes. You’re good. Go to this game on Friday. I’ll get you in.”
“He knows people.” Angela loops her arm around Cruzer’s back, but he immediately takes a side step away from her, his eyes trailing up and down from my head to my feet. “Nice shoes.”
Angela huffs. “So you gonna pay the old bat or what?”
I slam the drawer shut and turn to face her. “With what, Angela? I lost last night! Are you not listening? And I already gave you money for rent. Last month. The month before that. The one before that, for fuck’s sake!”
Angela screws up her face and gives me an irritated sigh. “You have more money. You said you have it saved. So just pay her, then win it back on Friday. Geez.”
“God, this is a nightmare. I am not using any more of my fucking money to bail you out, Angela. The little I have left is for tuition. Tuition I’ll probably now never get.”
Cruzer raises his hands to the ceiling in a loud, dramatic stretch as he walks toward the window. I feel my life being sucked out of me. Even the bliss from last night has evaporated so that the only reminder is the dull pain between my legs.
I sigh and shake my head. “I already lost a bunch of that money. The tuition money.” It suddenly hits me, the reality of it, the bleak future. “What am I going to do?”
Cruzer turns, and I swear I see a twinkle in his dead eyes.
“Easy. Friday, you can win back what you lost, get the rent paid, and everyone will be happy.”
“You know.” I set down the clothes I pulled out on the dresser and gather my hair into a messy knot on top of my head, remembering how it felt when Lincoln’s hands were tangled into it just a few hours ago. “I could lose. I lost last night. It could easily happen again. You both realize that, don’t you? You just don’t care. And the sheriff is coming in a few days to padlock the place. What we don’t take out of here by then we lose if the rent isn’t paid in full. Am I not speaking English?”
I swore I wouldn’t touch another dollar of that money, but I already feel it slipping from my fingers. I’m a fucking idiot. Just taking the five thousand for last night’s game killed me inside, but I was so confident I would win. Confidence I’d somehow let Cruzer stoke up with his attitude. Now, I’m stuck down the rabbit hole, and there’s no ladder in sight.
I may not have a choice. All or nothing. As it stands right now, I’m short on the tuition. The school has already given me an exception by letting me pay it late, but if I’m not there on campus Monday morning with the money in hand, my spot in the program is gone. I’ll have to reapply for next year, and who knows what can happen in a year?
Angela sashays into the kitchen, ignoring me as usual, shaking her head like it’s me who’s being the asshole.
I grab my bottle of Febreze off the dresser and spritz it around the apartment, Cruzer walks to the window, opens it and lights up a cigarette.
“Hey! No smoking in here. It already smells like a fucking drunk tank!” My anger turns. My eyes well up, and I slam the spray bottle down on my dresser. “And no sitting on my bed, you piece of shit!” I shout, just as his big butt is making itself at home on my mattress next to the window.
I can’t let them see me cry. I won’t. I will not.
“Hey, we’re out of coffee.” Angela slams the cabinet door closed in the kitchen, stomping her feet like a toddler. “Holli, would you pick up some from the store? I swear I’ll pay for it next time.”
I’m done. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t even bother to reply. I pick up the clothes and walk toward the hall, heading to the bathroom. I slam the door and take a freezing shower to regroup, letting the tears flow while I think over what I’m going to do to get my life back on track.
After I gather myself, I dress, take a deep breath then head back through the living room.
I don’t even bother to say anything. Cruzer is on my bed, but I don’t care. It’s not my bed anymore. A few days from now, we’re evicted anyway. I grab my key off the counter, stuff my purse and a couple granola bars into my backpack and I’m out the door without another word headed God knows where until I can get my head straight.
The sun blinds me as I pull open the door at the bottom of the steps and run outside. I wave of nausea hits me and I almost throw up, but I manage to hold it, taking a few calming breaths. I stand there, burning eyes squinting, convincing myself it’s just the glare of the sun making me tear up.
My hair is still sopping wet, blowing heavily in a gust of wind that also whips up the ever-present trash in this shithole alley. A plastic grocery bag and an empty Tim Horton’s cup settle around my feet as the gust abates. Looking down, they draw my attention to the worn-out toe on my white Keds. Who was I trying to kid, walking in there last night? I’m no more a high-roller than Cruzer is a Chippendale.
Blinking away tears, I smooth down my skirt before it can expose my bare ass. Laundry day didn’t happen this week, and I was on my last pair of clean panties when I went to Lincoln’s game last night.
And those panties are nothing more than a distant memory. Just thinking about Lincoln right now has the tears streaming down my cheeks, wondering if that was all just some sort of a game. The way he took me to his place. They whole, ‘just until morning’ routine.
A week ago, I had it all planned. I was finally turning the corner in my life. Fulfilling dreams and promises I made to myself a long time ago. Now, it’s all falling apart, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m not even sure where I’m going to sleep tonight. Or tomorrow.
My phone goes off in my backpack as I stand on the street, not sure what I’m doing there or where I should go. I reach in and grab it, seeing a number I don’t recognize. A single tear falls from my nose and plops onto the glass, distorting the message.
248-555-0900: Look up.
I raise my eyes, managing to stop the sob that tightens my chest, sure that it’s going to be yet more disappointment.
Then I see the black Lincoln.
Relief and disbelief wash over me. Lincoln is there, dressed in a white T-shirt, jeans, and a dark suit jacket, staring at me.
As soon as I catch a glimpse of those wild eyes, I’m reminded of just how he looked at me when he entered me for the first time last night. More than just lust. A deep longing that looked almost sad and pulled at my heart. A look that still elicits a moan from me, even across the traffic moving between us.
I watch as he brings his phone up and starts tapping the screen. A few seconds later, my phone dings and I read the message.
248-555-0900: Don’t move.
Me: Why are you here? And how did you know where to find me?
248-555-0900: You are even more beautiful in the daylight.
I look up to see a smile crest those magnificent lips. Lips that did things to me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes last night. Lips I wish were on mine right now.
Me: You are avoiding the questions, dammit!
248-555-0900: I’m not avoiding them. I’m tending to more important matters first. Making sure you know just how stunning you are.
Me: Okay. Well, I’m sort of busy.
I want him to leave almost as much as I want him here. I’m not certain what happened when I walked into that poker room last night, but my world has been upended, and I’m not even sure what’s real anymore.
Maybe he’s a mirage. Maybe I’m dreaming.
