Being Graves

by Drew Sera

  I frowned because I knew that Colin would have known about the renovations. Though I’m not sure why it mattered much, at the time.

  “Harrah’s is renovating this year. Mass renovations. The towers and casino floor.”

  Colin’s eyes were moving rapidly as he was working through whatever was running wild in his head. His head whipped around, looking at the casino floor.

  “All of this is going to change out, Anth. They’re looking for a complete replacement.”

  He met my eyes and raised his eyebrows.

  “Let’s get this deal, Anth.”

  He slapped my upper arm, and we headed to the bar.

  “Patricia, Edward, and Joseph, this is Anthony Graves. He’s one of my finance guys,” Colin introduced me to the Harrah’s people, and I shook their hands.

  Patricia’s handshake was firm and full of “don’t fuck with me” strength. She didn’t scare or intimidate me, and I noticed her eyes lingered with mine for a few extra moments. Inwardly I smiled.

  We sat around a lounge set of chairs talking for a bit, and it dawned on me that I needed to order a drink as the server came over to us. Panic spread through my body as I suddenly got hot. I avoided alcohol because I watched what it did to my mom and stepfather and I paid the price for their addictions. I didn’t even know how to order a drink or know what I could tolerate. They all ordered special drinks; nothing like a beer. Could I get away with a beer? I was overthinking this, and when it came time for me to order, I asked for the same thing as Colin.

  The four of them began chatting and every now and then I caught Patricia eyeing me. I leaned back in my chair, letting her get a full view of my broad chest. I think Patricia was enjoying my presence and the next time our eyes met, I smiled at her. Her cheeks blushed, and she looked away.

  Thankfully, I dodged taking a sip from that fucking glass, and we all left the bar to take our seat for lunch. On our walk, Patricia fell into step alongside me.

  “So, Mr. Graves, how long have you been working at Everett Gaming?” she asked me.

  “Not very long. Just since the beginning of the year.”

  She nodded and ended up taking a seat beside me in the restaurant. Once we all ordered, the conversation shifted a bit to business.

  “So, Colin, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Harrah’s plans to do some major renovations during this year,” Edward said.

  “Yes, I’m aware. I think it’ll be great for business,” Colin added.

  I casually pulled my gaze away from Patricia and commented on the renovations. I did it to show Harrah’s that Colin and I knew their plans. I hoped it’d be easier for them to give Colin a chance if they knew that he was already on board with their projections.

  “You guys are going with the party and Mardi Gras theme, right?” I asked, despite already knowing the answer since I dug around.

  The three of them looked surprised, and Joseph leaned forward in his chair nodding.

  “I think it’s a great theme. People come from around the world to party here in Vegas. What a clever way to keep them inside your hotel, spending money, instead of guests feeling like they need to venture outside of your property for the party,” I added and then glanced over at Patricia.

  Patricia was staring at me with those “fuck me” eyes. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, and her hand rested comfortably under her chin. I gave her a soft smile before pulling my attention back to the gentlemen.

  “Will you guys be replacing all of your electronic games?” I asked.

  “Yes, eventually. We’ll be doing it in phases,” Edward replied before taking a bite of his food.

  “That makes sense to do it in phases. I mean, you guys have what, like close to four thousand machines?” I asked and leaned on the armrest closest to Patricia.

  “That’s right,” Joseph confirmed the information I read last night.

  “Very impressive, Mr. Graves. Few of the companies we speak with know much about those numbers,” Patricia added.

  “Please, call me Anthony,” I said to Patricia and gave her a smile before leaning forward again.

  “Gaming technology has come a long way since you guys first opened in the late seventies.” I paused and sipped from my water goblet. “It’s great that you have your customers in mind with the renovations and want to give them the latest and greatest available in the electronic gaming world today.”

  I had hoped that Colin would pick up on my lead-in for him to sell them on Everett Gaming. And without me saying anything, gesturing to him or even looking at him, he picked right up.

  “Everett Gaming can work with you on your Mardi Gras theme. We can tailor the machines to your needs. The decks of cards on the electronic poker can say ‘Harrah’s’ and show a jester, or just a Mardi Gras mask. The slot rolls can all have Mardi Gras images. No longer do you have to settle for the blue screens or the fruit on the roll bars,” Colin explained.

  “I like the cherries,” Patricia commented and stared right at me.

  “I do, too,” I agreed and winked at her.

  “Do you, Mr. Graves?” she asked in a seductive tone.

  “Please, it’s Anthony.”

  “We can also custom design the machine plackets for Mardi Gras as well,” Colin continued.

  Colin had them captivated with the number of options at their disposal with Everett Gaming He was so smooth with his delivery and talking about his company. Colin was completely selling it, without it feeling like a sales pitch.

  As we were served dessert, topics changed from business to leisure, and of course, sports were brought up. Joseph and Patricia spoke passionately about the upcoming NCAA basketball promos they had going on.

  “I love college basketball, Patricia,” I said and gave her a slightly more extended stare than I gave Joseph.

  She reached over and clasped her hand down on my forearm that was resting by my plate of chocolate cake.

  “You do?” she asked, and I nodded with a mouth full of cake. Patricia looked over at Edward and Joseph before saying, “I’m going to run upstairs and grab Anthony a basketball promo t-shirt.” As she stood, all of the men stood. “Anthony, what size t-shirt are you?” She gazed at my chest attempting to figure it out, or pretend she was trying to figure it out.

  I ran my hand from my chest to my abdomen as if I were considering, but also so she could see my well-defined chest.

  “Extra large, Patricia. I find that large sized t-shirts are too tight across my chest and arms. Especially after I wash and dry it. Though—” I paused to pat my stomach. “After this cake, I might be an extra, extra large.”

  Patricia playfully slapped my forearm and laughed before pushing her chair in.

  “Colin, would you like one too?” she asked.

  “Yes, please, thank you.”

  “What size are you?” Patricia asked him, but it was in a different tone than how she asked me.

  “Extra-large for me, Patricia. Though, I’m not as thick as Anthony,” Colin replied.

  Patricia’s cheeks grew bright red, and she smiled before leaving the restaurant. The rest of us sat back down to finish our dessert. I devoured the cake while the others chatted about sports. Patricia came back carrying a few t-shirts in different colors. She set them on her chair and picked one up, then motioned for me to stand.

  “Here, let’s make sure this will fit you.” I stood, and she held the t-shirt across my chest and pulled and tugged on it here and there. She also took her time to smooth and flatten the material against my chest. “I want to make sure we give you the right size. We have a bunch of colors, so I brought you one of each.”

  “Thank you, Patricia. These will be great to work out in at the gym,” I said.

  “Which gym do you go to?” She casually asked.

  “Las Vegas Fitness.”

  She gave me a smile, and I had a feeling that I might be seeing her at my gym. She handed Colin a black t-shirt, just the one, before she sat down again and looked at Edwar
d and Joseph.

  “Edward, let’s go ahead and get a contract drawn up to try 2,500 of Everett Gaming’s machines. We’ll see how it goes,” Patricia said and smiled at us.

  “Fantastic! Thank you for the opportunity,” Colin said.

  We hung out with the three Harrah’s people for the afternoon. Patricia and Joseph took Colin and me around the casino floor and told us of their renovation plans in more detail. I found it very interesting as I carried my new t-shirts with me. When we parted ways, Patricia’s handshake this time was much softer and instead of a “don’t fuck with me” feel to it, there was a “please fuck me” feel to it.

  It was well after 3:00 by the time Colin and I got his car from valet. Once we were inside, he began talking.

  “This is so fantastic! Everett Gaming’s foot is in the door at Harrah’s. Woo!” Colin yelled and clapped his hands together. “Damn, I’m glad you were here. If you hadn’t mentioned the renovations before we met with them, I would have looked like an idiot. How did you know about their planned theme?”

  “I dug around and found some of the info yesterday and then studied it last night.”

  I didn’t tell him that I spent a few hours in Harrah’s last night while recovering from a nightmare.

  “You’re amazing. And, Patricia was practically eating out of your crotch. The way she was staring at you, was unmistakable. She absolutely wanted you. This is so great! You cracked the code to Patricia!”

  “Wasn’t a hard code. I am, after all, a Cal Bear, and she was a little USC Trojan. She was no match for me.” Colin burst out laughing. “If you weren’t a pussy, UCLA, t-shirt wearing Bruin, you would have made better progress with her. And thanks for the ‘thick’ comment,” I joked.

  “All the Trojan needed was to be confronted by a Bear.” We laughed about it a bit more and Colin joked that I should have let her put the t-shirt on me. “All kidding aside, Anth, thank you. We now have our foot in their door, thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  Knowing that my good looks and charm helped Colin get a contract opportunity, I was actually feeling pretty good about myself.

  Chapter Six

  February 1997

  I was watching the Cal Bears basketball game when my phone rang. Forty-five seconds left on the clock.

  “Fuck,” I swore out loud and walked to the phone without taking my eyes off the TV.

  “Hello,” I said into the receiver, but only partially paying attention.

  “Anth, can we meet at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow instead of 7:30 a.m. for coffee?” Colin asked.

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “I’m going to announce that Everett Gaming officially inked a contract with Harrah’s. So, I need a little time to prep.”

  I watched the fucking basketball bounce off the damn rim.

  “Fuck!” I said.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, I’ve got the game on. Cal is losing.”

  “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that. UCLA kicked ass again tonight,” Colin jabbed.

  “Wonderful.”

  “Ok, ok. Go watch Cal lose. Don’t forget—”

  “7:00 a.m. I won’t forget.”

  Even though I hurt from head to toe, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I ran until I got to the park and stopped when I hit the fence to the tennis court. I spit on the ground as I braced myself against the fence with my arms stretched out, grasping the metal chain links. Trying to rid my mouth of the foul taste, I spit again.

  I was furious and wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. My face felt as though it was cracking; the tears had dried on my cheeks as I ran.

  I gathered the saliva in my mouth and spit again.

  With my chest heaving, I stood upright and still for a moment to catch my breath. I shoved my hand down the back of my pants and touched the wet spot from Bruce.

  My anger was so hard to control, and I kicked the tennis court fence. I was breathing harder now and wiped more tears from my eyes. As I kicked the fence, the wet spot pressed against my skin even more.

  I HATE THE WAY I FEEL!

  I kicked the fence some more and tasted that stuff again. I had to get it out of my system. I knelt down on the damp grass and stuck my finger deep into my mouth to try and reach my tonsils. It worked, and I quickly threw up everything that was in my stomach onto the grass.

  I still tasted it.

  I repeated the gagging process a few more times and discovered that the taste wasn’t going away. Gripping the tennis court fence, I pulled myself up off the ground and began walking toward a picnic table. As I walked, I felt my stomach shaking. Why does it do this?

  I had to get this underwear off. I trudged to the dimly lit bathroom and went into a stall. I pulled my pants off and then my underwear. I stared at the wet spot and the phrase, “I’m an accident,” written in marker. It had faded some but was still there on the band. I pulled on my pants and noticed how much worse everything hurt without the underwear. I rolled them up and threw them in the trashcan before I headed back out to the park.

  In the distance, the lights were on at the little league baseball diamond, and a game was being played. I made my way over, spitting as I went. I sat down in the grass near left field and watched the kids play. They looked like they might be close to my age.

  As the innings changed, I pulled at the grass and continued to spit on the grass beside me. Suddenly, I heard my name and quickly looked up.

  “Anthony…hi, Anthony.”

  The boy who just took left field waved at me. It was Brock from school! He and I were in the same second grade class last year. I waved, and he turned around to pay attention to the game. I wished I could play baseball. I watched the rest of their game, forgetting everything that happened at home tonight.

  Soon, the bleachers were empty. All the parents and siblings had gone home with their sons and brothers. I watched Brock leave with his parents, and older brother and an older man. Maybe his grandfather.

  I spotted a Gatorade bottle that had been left behind and pushed myself off the ground. I was still spitting and desperate to get rid of the taste. I sat down on the wooden bench in the dugout and picked up the bottle that was half empty. No one was around, so I drank it. I swished it around in my mouth and then spit it out. I did this a few times before I swallowed some of it. It was really good.

  My body was stiff as I made my way home. I hope they’re asleep so I can clean up and sleep. I have a spelling test tomorrow.

  I crept into the dark house and was tip-toeing to my room when the living room light flicked on. Bruce sat in his chair, smoking and holding a beer bottle. On the floor, next to him were several bottles, and dangling over the arm of his recliner, was a belt.

  “Where have you been, Anthony?”

  “Out.”

  “Fucking smart ass.”

  Bruce stumbled out of the chair, grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the wall. My head banged against the wall, and then the spots started to fill my vision.

  I bolted up in bed and quickly turned the light on.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud and tried to catch my breath and glanced at the clock; 1:35 a.m.

  My chest was drenched in sweat, and I climbed out of bed, wide awake. I went to the kitchen and downed a glass of water before pacing the living room. I was trying hard to shake the dream, but couldn’t. I went back to my room and pulled on some shorts, shoes and a t-shirt and went for a jog.

  Just like my nine-year-old self did in my nightmare, I ran. I ran around the neighborhood eight times before I went back home. I stood still in the shower as memories of passing out danced in my head. I stretched my arms out on the shower wall and let the water spill over my body as the memories flooded my mind.

  Passing out always scared the shit out of me when I was young. By the time I hit middle school, it had angered me. And in high school, it filled me with uncontrollable rage. Memories of what happened when I lost time like that, were non-existe
nt. I never knew what happened during that time, and it was frightening. When I was little and in elementary school, I’d cry when I came around. Confused and hurting, sometimes I’d seek out my mom and sometimes Bruce or Connor. After I’d wake up in my teen years, I had learned how to keep to myself and try to think of what happened. I’d concentrate hard, and I focused on hints of what might have happened. But anger and frustration would always win; I rarely knew exactly what happened when I’d pass out from pain. I typically woke up hurting though.

  I snapped out of it and shut the water off. It was 2:45 a.m. as I dried off and pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt. I grabbed my jacket and headed to the Mirage Hotel and Casino.

  For a half an hour, I did nothing but walk around the casino. Realizing what I must look like on surveillance, I sat down and mindlessly put money into some machines. I took a mental note of how their video poker machines lacked the customization that Everett Gaming could give them. I'd mention it to Colin. I walked some more looking at things from a business perspective before ending up in the sports book. I watched highlights and flirted with another server. She had beautiful sun-kissed skin, and I imagined her with rope wrapped around her wrists, tied to a post in Irons. When I noticed a wedding ring though, I stopped flirting back with her. The next time she came by, I tipped her and moved on.

  Looking at my watch, I saw that it was almost 4:30 a.m. I found the café and was happy when I saw they had pancakes. I thought back to the first time I had them when I was seventeen and in the hospital…when my dad came for me.

  Fuck.

  Dad. I missed him.

  The sun was coming up when I got home, and I went to get ready for work. It worked out for the best since I was meeting Colin a half hour earlier.

  I was early and took our usual seat at the coffee shop in the atrium. My ass was dragging. After the sleepless night, early morning jog, and hours spent at the Mirage, I was in need of some coffee. While I was reading the sports page, Colin appeared and set his keys down on the table.