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“Trust me, you can get in.” Kate says and tips her head toward the door. “Go on, you’ll see.”
I nod. She seems so sure of herself that I one-hundred percent believe her. “Wait til I go in, then leave. Can I text you later?”
“Sure.” She gives me a quick smile, then her lips drop back into the perpetual frown she seems to wear these days.
I get out and walk to the door. I try the handle and, by golly, it opens. I walk into the short distance of moonlight that ends in darkness. “Hello?” I say quietly.
“Yeah, come in.” A voice comes from the dark. A very tall, dark man emerges from the recesses of the store. My stomach feels uneasy, but when he gets close enough that I can see him in the moon glow from the store-front windows, I recognize him as the guy who let me in at the green door. He gives me a nod, like he’s approving my being here, and says, “You looking for the game?”
“Yeah.” I squawk.
He harrumphs, and turns to lead me to the back of the store, through the cigar lounge, and behind the bar, to what I thought was a back office.
“We don’t want no trouble.” He says to me with his hand on the door handle.
“I’m not—”
“Maribeth!” Big Mike comes through the door before my guide can open it.
“Come on in,” he whispers and takes me under his arm like I’m his favorite niece or something. What a contrast from the big guy. Why did he act like I was gonna cause trouble? Inside the back room, a four-drawer filing cabinet is sitting askew in front of the wall, and a door, obviously hidden behind the filing cabinet, is standing open, the swing of the door toward the stairs. Big Mike gestures for me to go ahead of him down the stairs. We end up in the same underground cellar that I went to last time. Why didn’t they tell me there was another way in other than the green door in the alley? I hand the tall black guard my rake to get into the game. He moves to a large journal-looking book and records my entry while I go sit at a table. The older men give me a nod. I nod back, and the game begins with each of us putting a chip in for an ante.
At three o’clock, I text Kate and she picks me up at the front of the tobacco company store. I have a manila envelope tucked under my blazer with enough money in thousand-dollar bundles to replace my original winnings and pay Frank’s taxes on the house. It was like I won possession of Frank’s house a second time. I crawl into Kate’s back seat and close my eyes.
“Home, James.” I say with a smile.
“Oh hon, you are exhausted. I’m Kate, remember?”
I open one eye. She is turned around with her elbow over the back seat. Her faded blue bangs are red, now and so are her freshly painted fingernails. “I know. I was just— never mind. Please take me home.” I say with a huge sigh.
I need at least four hours sleep before I go to breakfast with Blaze in the morning. My eyes pop open. Why does he want to take me to breakfast anyway??
My alarm goes off with a short mp4 of Kenny Rogers singing the chorus, “You gotta know when to hold ‘em,” at six-thirty. I do not plan to get gussied up for breakfast with Blaze. I’ll just comb my hair and put on something respectable, a t-shirt and jeans, flip flops… and a bra. That’s good enough for Mr. Nosey Nellie Neighbor. Whatever he is fishing for by taking me out for breakfast will remain off his hook, unless I decide he needs to know.
I step out on my side patio with a cup of coffee to see if he’s home yet. A light is on that wasn’t last night, so I assume he is. I gulp down my coffee and start down my stairs, hoping to catch my breath by the time I reach his front door. His garage door rambles open just as I hit my last step. His Gladiator backs into his driveway. I’m still panting. Will I ever get acclimated to these stairs?
“Morning.” He says from his truck window.
Oh, shoot! He’s dressed nice. Is this what he had on last night when he left? I can’t remember. I was bleary eyed and exhausted. I walk around to the passenger side of his truck, just as he comes from the other way and opens the door for me. I hop in and buckle up. “Where we going?”
“Up the hill.” He smiles, trotting back to the driver’s seat.
“What does that mean?” His cologne and fresh, manly soap wraps its arms around me in a decadent, warm embrace and I close my eyes for a moment to just breathe in his scent. He must have taken a shower. I wish I had.
“The Lodge, up on the hill, it has a really good breakfast selection. I thought we could go there.”
“Okay.” I frown. What is he up to? I sit back and watch the scenery as we drive North on 85. He makes the odd turn to our left off the highway just before an intriguing sign on the right that reads, “Tatanka Story of the Bison.” We pull into the hotel/gaming resort on the left and park near the entrance to the hotel.
“Looks like a nice place.” I comment while leaning over to look up through his windshield. “I didn’t realize this was here.”
“Yeah, it is nice.” He jogs around his truck and opens my door. I slide out and walk with him to the front automated doors. A full-size replica of John Wayne mounted on top of a horse greets us, we turn right and walk past some digital slot machines. They sure are luring with their bright, colorful screens which are taller than I am and about two and a half feet wide. Soft, comfortable-looking chairs sit empty in front of each pod of machines while the screen simulates a happy ending to a spin.
“Do you gamble?” He asks.
I nearly swallow my tongue and trip slightly on the smooth, movie-theatre designed carpet. “Uh, why do you ask?”
He pulls out four quarters and slips them into a slot, pushes a red button and watches the three brightly lit digital wheels spin. The machine makes a bong, bong, bong noise that is very loud. It’s a bust, but the noise the one-armed-bandit makes is tempting the player to try again. He shrugs and continues leading me toward the restaurant. We enter a long, wide corridor with a wall of windows to our right and continue down to a broad opening. As we turn, I see two young girls at a long hostess counter. They look at us with expectant smiles. One looks down and mumbles something to the other.
Having worked a time or two in a restaurant, I know she told the gal what section was available for us to sit.
