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Aleksandra
Taking a job at a bar owned by one of the most powerful Polish families in Chicago was the first mistake I made. The second was not quitting after the first poker game. Powerful men gambling away thousands of dollars with each hand tip damn good. So, I overlooked the guns. I pretended not to understand their conversations. I did everything I was paid to do: keep my eyes shut, my ears deaf, and my mouth closed.
But then I made my third mistake.
“Hey, watch it, Aleksandra!” Janusz Staszek chastised, shaking off the droplet of whiskey that landed on his hand as I put his glass down in front of him.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Maybe if he kept his hands from flying around while he was talking, he wouldn’t have hit my tray and spilled on himself. But not my place.
I moved around the table, handing out drinks and clearing away empty glasses.
“Bring more pretzels.” Henry Kozar said, pinching my ass when I turned away from him. I gritted my teeth. “Sure.”
“Henry.” Dmitri, one of the Staszek’s men leaning against the wall watching the game, spoke up. “Hands off if you want to keep them.” He spoke in Polish, still under the delusion I didn’t speak the language.
From the corner of my eye, I watched him point a long finger at Henry. Dmitri was the only one who put a stop to the guys who got handsy.
“You don’t allow us any fun, Dmitri. Look at her, at that ass, how can I not touch?” Henry answered in rapid Polish. I handed out the last drink and grabbed the empty bowl for the pretzels from the middle of the table.
“She’s too young for you. What would she want with an old man like you!” Janusz laughed.
Feeling my cheeks start to heat, I hurried from the room. If they could see me blush, they’d know I understood them.
When I returned with a full basket of pretzels, Dmitri stopped me at the door. “Stay clear of Henry. He’s had too much to drink tonight.” He plucked a pretzel from the basket and popped it into his mouth.
“He always has too much to drink when he’s playing cards.” I looked at the table, around Dmitri’s hulking form. “I’ll be all right. But thanks.” I couldn’t quite bring my eyes up to meet his. Whenever I did, my cheeks burned red, and I was tired of the arrogant grin he’d flash when it happened.
I maneuvered around him and brought the pretzels to the table. Walking behind Janusz, I noticed his hand. Full house, ace high. Great hand. Curious, I made my way around the table as they placed bets and jibes at each other. Henry’s hand, a pair of sixes, wasn’t worth meeting the ante, but he threw in a hundred dollars, then more.
“See your hundred, Janusz, and raise a thousand.” He arched his back and grinned.
I snorted. The idiot was trying to bluff these guys.
Janusz’s eyes darted up to my face, then looked back at Henry.
Oh shit! I moved back away from the table, hurrying to the corner table in the room to grab the ice bucket.
“I don’t believe you have anything. I see your thousand. Raise two more.” Janusz upped the bet.
“I’m out.” The other four players fell away, but Henry stubbornly remained.
“You have that Staszek stubborn blood. Don’t know when to quit.” Henry laughed. “Fine. I’ll see you. Raise another three.”
“Henry, that’s all your cash.” Stephan, the man to his right, cautioned him.
Janusz looked up again at me, tapping his cards on the table. My nerves danced beneath his stare. Getting involved in the game would be a stupid thing to do, dangerous and stupid. So fucking stupid. My eyes swept the room. Finding Dmitri, I kept my gaze settled on his chest.
“Stop looking at her. Is she some sort of fortune teller?” Henry laughed, more uncomfortable this time, as he twisted in his seat to find me. I was against the wall, doing my damnedest to ignore the game. All I wanted to do was get out of the room and hide. Henry never took losing well, and that was when he was sober.
Dmitri moved to my side. His arm brushed against mine. A simple touch, but enough to calm the nerves ramping up again as Henry made his disastrous bet.
“Stay here, by me,” he said.
“I have to get ice.” I showed him the empty bucket.
“Stay put.” There was a strong warning in his tone.
“Go on, what do you have?” Henry poked at Janusz.
