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I squat to gather my wall hangings and pray the lamp didn’t break. “Go to Blazes!”
He looks horror stricken, as if I cursed him. I rerun my words through my mind. Oh gosh!
“I mean… go to Blaze’s house,” I speak very slowly to be clear. “Not go to, you know, H, E, double hockey sticks.”
Crocodile tears swell in Frank’s eyes. His full, Andrea Ivanova, lower lip protrudes and trembles. “He’s not home!” He sobs.
I hate to see a grown man cry. It rips my heart out. “I know.” I say gently. “He’s…” I know exactly where he is, but Frank doesn’t need to know that. “I think he’s working.”
Frank sniffs, like a twelve-year-old drama queen. “Isn’t he still doing that overnight stake out?”
I cock my head to the side, like a border collie who just heard the treat bag rattle. He has my full attention!
“What do you know about him going on a stake out?” I ask too quickly. “I mean,” I force myself to slow down, act casual. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it. He told me, of course, we’re good friends, now.” I put my new things on the couch.
And wait for Frank to reply.
“Yeah, he said it was a big deal here in Deadwood.”
“Did he? I’m surprised he told you that much. He must really trust you, Frank.” I smile.
“Yeah, there’s no reason not to. I don’t actually live here in Deadwood, why would he be worried about me spilling his beans.”
I tilt my head. “Sure, why would he be worried about you coming back unexpectedly and telling anybody his big secret?” I glare at him with bulging eyes, but he isn’t catching on to my sarcasm.
Frank bobs his head.
I consider my next move carefully. Knight to F3. “I worry he’ll get hurt though. That can be some rough business.”
“Naw,” Frank seems to be relaxing after me jumping down his throat. “He’s just looking for the person in charge, there’s no danger of a shootout or anything like that.”
I swallow hard. “You know, I never quite understood that part. Seems like everybody involved would get arrested.” I think I know, but I’m still not sure. There are all kinds of possibilities that Frank isn’t talking about Blaze hunting down the high stakes poker gaming hosts. I mean, if he was on a stake out to discover some drug dealer and their dealer and the supplier, it would definitely be very dangerous, and everybody involved would be arrested.
“No, the way the law is, see, just the one putting it on is conducting an illegal act.”
That confirms my worst suspicions! “Oh, God. Frank, he IS looking for a high-stakes game, isn’t he?
Frank’s eyes protrude bigger than baseballs. “I, uh, I thought you said Blaze already told you?”
Busted! I hang my head. “I suspected.”
“Okay?” Frank turns suspicious veiled eyes on me. “What does it matter to you?”
“Nothing.” I say too quickly again. “It just sounds so dangerous to me.”
Frank’s glare softens. “Well, Blaze is pretty smart. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Sure, but…” I really need to change the subject.
“Frank!” I revert to our original problem at hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you. Blaze isn’t home. I have nowhere else to go.” He looks panicky again.
I shake my head and wave my arms like an old Italian woman. “Rent a hotel, like everybody else.”
“I don’t have any money.” He waves his hands, too. I notice this is his tell when he feels desperate. I get that. Been there, bought the t-shirt.
“Look, Frank, this is my house now.”
