HARDCORE: Storm MC

by Zoey Parker

  “She bluffs like nobody I’ve ever seen.” She giggled.

  I turned my attention to the group around the table. Gigi sat alone on one side, the others on the other sides. She held her cards close to her chest so nobody could see them.

  They were playing with pretzel sticks, and damned if she didn’t have a bigger pile than anybody else. They had to be underestimating her—I could’ve told them she was a genius. I had already considered having her tested for it, and was thinking about broaching the subject with Rae.

  Gigi threw three sticks into the center of the table to ante up. The rest followed suit. It was her turn again. She peeked at her cards, then threw another three sticks into the pot. The rest of the room murmured. I bit back a laugh.

  The man to her left tapped his cards on the table. “I’ll see your three and raise two,” he said. Another murmur.

  Gigi looked unimpressed, only turning to the man across from her. He glanced from Gigi to the second player, and folded immediately to a chorus of laughter. Gigi’s eyes shifted to the man to her right.

  “I’ll see that five,” he said, adding his sticks to the pot. He was the dealer, so he asked how many cards everybody needed.

  Gigi took another peek. “I’m fine,” she said. Another round of murmurs, and some laughter. She was cool as anything, that kid.

  The man to her left took two cards. The dealer took three.

  It was Gigi’s turn again. “I’ll see your five, and raise you five.” My eyes flew open wide. She had guts. I heard Erica giggle.

  The man to Gigi’s left tapped his cards to the table again. “Too rich for my blood,” he decided, folding.

  Gigi looked unimpressed, swinging her eyes around to the only other remaining player. He studied her, eyes narrowed. I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.

  “Okay. I’ll see your ten.”

  “Are you sure about that?” The room went quiet. Gigi glanced at her cards, still tight against her chest. She looked pointedly at the other player’s sticks, which were dwindling rapidly.

  “I’m pretty sure, yeah.” He smiled at her.

  “Okay. I don’t want you to lose all your sticks is all. Then you can’t play anymore.” She was so innocent, so wide-eyed. “It’s fun to play with you.”

  He smiled again. “Your hand is that good, huh?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Hmm. If I fold, I’ll still be able to play. If I don’t, I might lose.”

  “That’s right.”

  He squinted at her, trying to size her up. “I’ve seen you bluffing all night. How do I know you’re not bluffing right now?”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” She shrugged. The room was so quiet, I was sure I could’ve heard a pin drop. I held my breath, as I was pretty sure everybody else was. I watched the other player, and the way he stared at her. Her face was totally blank, except for a tiny little smile.

  He nodded decisively, making up his mind. “I don’t believe you.” He put in ten sticks. “Call.”

  Gigi spread her cards out before her. I craned my neck to see. Three tens, two fives. A full house.

  “Damn it!” The other player laid down two pairs. The room went wild, everybody cheering Gigi, chanting her name. She beamed with delight, pulling the pot of pretzel sticks toward herself.

  I wanted to be annoyed, but I couldn’t. It was too funny, watching her wipe the floor with these seasoned players. I did let her know I was watching, though, catching her eye from across the room. She waved.

  “You wanna play, Jamie?”

  “No, thanks.” Everybody laughed. “Besides, it’s getting late for you, isn’t it? Almost ten o’clock.”

  Gigi frowned but got up from her seat. Everybody wished her a good night, and I took her upstairs to get her ready for bed.

  “Who taught you to play cards?” I murmured as we climbed the stairs.

  “One of mommy’s friends taught me a long time ago,” she said. “And I used to have a poker game, too. Like a battery game.” I remembered her bringing it in for show-and-tell once.

  “But you didn’t tell them you knew?”

  “Nah.” She looked up at me. “Was that wrong?”

  “Not technically, no. That means you’re a card shark.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “We’ll talk about it some other time.” I gave her a hug, laughing to myself over the way she made fools of a bunch of grown men.

  ***

  It was only a few minutes after putting Gigi to bed that Lance came in. I was sitting at the bar, chatting with Erica and Traci. I let them in on Gigi’s secret and the three of us laughed until we cried.

  “Where’s Gigi?” Lance looked nearly frantic.

  I stood, as did the girls. “She’s in bed. Safe and sound.”

  He grimaced, shaking his head. “I didn’t think she wasn’t safe. I need to talk to her, though.”

  “I’m sure it can wait until morning, can’t it?”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, I’m sure it can. Christ.” He grabbed a beer bottle from the bar and stalked off into his office, slamming the door behind him. For some reason, that door slam infuriated me—maybe because I had just finished telling him his daughter was asleep. I followed him into the office, closing the door more softly.

  “I didn’t ask you to come in.”

  “Big deal. I’m here anyway. You need to learn how to be a little quieter when your daughter’s in bed,” I snapped.

  “Oh, would you give it a fucking rest? I don’t need you nagging me to death. You’re not her mother.”

  “And you only fertilized an egg one day. That’s it. You’re not her father.”

  He glared at me. “Don’t tell me who I am. You don’t have the right.”

  “Just like you don’t have the right to hold me hostage here just because I care about your daughter.”

  “Hostage?” He laughed. “You’re not a hostage. You wanna leave? The door’s open, baby. Be my guest.” He sat behind his desk, feet up, drinking his beer. “I’ve got more important things on my mind than you right now.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like none of your business, that’s what.”

  “Do you think it would be possible for you to be a little less mature? Because I don’t think so.”

  He rolled his eyes again and sighed. “Would you let it go, please? Relax for five fucking minutes and I’ll tell you what’s up. Okay? If that gets you to leave me the hell alone.”

  “Do you think it would be possible for you to watch your language? I appreciate you watching it when Gigi’s around, but I don’t feel like hearing it.”

  “Like I said,” he grinned, “you can leave any time you want. I don’t wanna offend your delicate ears.”

  I sat with a huff. “What is it you wanted to say?”

  He took another long swig of his beer, making me wait. My blood pressure boiled steadily the longer he left me sitting there. “I talked to a friend of Rae’s,” he said. “A guy I used to know, too, so he trusted me. Total junkie. He told me Rae was on her way to meet up with a pretty scary dude on Sunday night. He’s called The Scarecrow.”

  I shrugged. He said the name like he expected me to know who he meant, but I had no idea.

  “He’s probably the most dangerous guy in town. I mean really, really bad shit.”

  My face went slack, my shoulders drooped. “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. Drugs, mostly. He’s probably killed a half dozen people personally, but maybe a lot more than that. There are rumors that he’s into human trafficking, too.”

  I gasped, hand over my mouth. “Selling people?”

  “Yeah.” Lance looked disgusted.

  “And this is the sort of person Rae was meeting with?”

  “That’s what Bobby told me.”

  “He’s a junkie, though. That’s what you said. Can he be trusted?”

  Lance pursed his
lips. “Yeah, I don’t know for sure. He seemed like he really meant it. I mean, that’s a pretty notorious name in our world. You don’t go throwing it around unless you mean it.”

  “It just doesn’t make any sense to me. I’ve met Rae lots of times. She always told me she was clean, how important it was to stay clean for Gigi.”

  “That’s another thing.” Lance looked even more troubled than before.

  “I feel like I don’t want to hear this.”

  “I know you don’t wanna.” He looked at me. “Bobby said he went to Rae’s house to do drugs before. While Gigi was in the house—not watching, but in the house.”

  I jumped to my feet. “No.”

  “Yeah. That’s what he told me.” I noticed the knuckles of the hand holding the beer bottle were white.

  “How could she do that?” I sounded like I was whining, but I didn’t care. Poor Gigi. I thought of Rae, so adamant that she was doing her best. Having her friends over to get high while her daughter slept upstairs. My skin crawled and I rubbed my hands over my arms to get rid of the goosebumps.

  Lance shrugged. “She’s a junkie. I told you. Once a junkie…”

  “Yeah. Right.” I thought back to Gigi telling me how she learned to play poker, and I wondered which one of them taught her. Was it this Scarecrow person? Or the junkie Lance talked to? Or one of who knew how many others? It boggled my mind. Poor Gigi.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We?”

  “You, me, we. I don’t know.”

  “You’re here to keep an eye on the kid. Which you’ll do. Right?”

  I nodded. “Right. Of course.”

  “It’s my job to find out what happened to Rae after she met up with The Scarecrow. Where is his normal hideout, did anybody see her around there, that sort of thing. I have to track her down, and I will. It’ll be all right.”

  I sank into the chair again, my knees weak. Rae. What the heck had she been doing all this time? And poor Gigi. How many close calls had she had? Her mother was involved with a guy who sold people. I shuddered to think how close Gigi might have come.

  “You okay?” Lance asked. His voice was gruff, his eyes staring intensely at me.

  “Of course.”

  “You seem a little shaken up. It’s okay to be shaken up.”

  “Is it? Thanks for the permission.” I turned my head away so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to overwhelm me.

  “What is it? Come on. Listen, I was upset, too. Okay? You wanna hear that? I was upset. I was more than upset. I wanted to kill Bobby for doing drugs in that house while my daughter was upstairs. I wanted to fucking kill him for it. I wanted to kill Rae for letting him do it. I wanted to kill her for putting herself in danger when she was raising my fucking kid. She put Gigi in danger, too. And I know that’s why you’re upset, so don’t bother telling me you’re not.”

  I didn’t bother. He was right.

  “But Gigi’s okay. She’s here, with us. And we’re not gonna let anything happen to her.”

  I looked at him, trying to read him. He was so different from one minute to the next. First, he’d been cold, distant. Now he was caring, for all the gruffness he tried to put out. He couldn’t fool me.

  “I believe you,” I admitted.

  “You do? I’m surprised.”

  “I can tell.” I grinned. “I see how everybody likes her, wants to protect her. That’s reassuring. And as ridiculous as it might sound…I feel better about her being here than I did about her being with her mother.”

  He nodded slowly. “That doesn’t sound ridiculous. I guess I understand what you mean, though. The outlaws versus the junkie.”

  “Yeah. The outlaws are the ones I’d rather have her with. I saw the way they treat her. It’s sort of sweet.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird.” He grinned.

  I grinned back. For a brief moment, it was just the two of us. Two people. Not a criminal and a “good person.” Two people who cared about the same person and wanted what was best for her. For a moment, we could put our feelings about each other aside.

  Chapter Eight

  Lance

  Once Gigi was in bed, it was time to relax a little. Everybody had been on their best behavior all day, so the drinks and swearing started flowing fast and heavy when she was upstairs with the door closed.

  “God damn, it’s been a long week.” Flash took a whiskey from Erica and tossed it down his throat.

  “You’re complaining about my little girl?” I asked, only joking.

  “Hey, I’ll be the first one to say she’s a great kid, but it’s a little exhausting being cheerful all the time.”

  “You don’t have to be,” Erica pointed out, pouring me a drink. “Just be your normal self.”

  “No, don’t do that,” I said, shaking my head. “We don’t wanna scar the kid for life.” Flash took a swipe at my head, but I ducked just in time.

  Everybody else loosened up, too, and on one of the side room a bunch of club members got an actual game of poker going. Once they had a beer or two in them, things usually got a little out of hand. They deserved it after everything they’d done for Gigi and me.

  I noticed movement on the stairs and watched as Jamie came down from Gigi’s room. She looked less than thrilled by the way things turned around while she was upstairs.

  “It didn’t take long for the party to start,” she observed.

  “Listen, I’m gonna give you a piece of advice. You’re welcome to take it or leave it.”

  She smirked. “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Take the stick outta your ass long enough to have a good time. You might actually surprise yourself when you do. Hell, you might actually laugh.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I feel so much better now.” She sat at the bar, asking for a club soda with lime. I rolled my eyes—she would deliberately be a pain in the ass just to irritate me. I decided to let her do whatever the hell she wanted, as long as she stayed clear of me.

  I went into the room where the poker game was starting up, telling myself to forget about her. She wasn’t worth the trouble, determined to be a bitch. It didn’t matter how hot a woman was if she had it in her head to be a bitch no matter what.

  “How’s it goin’ with her?” Flash asked.

  “Don’t get me started.”

  “That good, huh?” He snickered.

  “She’s a fucking bitch, okay? There’s your answer.”

  “You’re just pissy she’s not already sucking your cock.”

  “Watch it, buddy. I can still kick your ass. It doesn’t matter if you’re my VP or not.” I glanced out the open door. She was still at the bar, sipping on her club soda. Stuck-up.

  “I’m just sayin’ you’re not used to working for a woman’s attention.”

  “Are you ever gonna finish talking?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Fine, be that way. Be angry because she doesn’t care that you’re the president of the club. Be pissed off because she won’t hang all over you or try to seduce you or whatever. Pretend all you want that it doesn’t bug you. I’ll believe you.” He snorted, taking a swig from his beer. I tapped the bottle, making him miss his mouth and spill it on his shirt.

  “Asshole,” he spat, running his hand down the front of the shirt.

  “Oh, sorry. Did I make you spill your beer?”

  He scowled…then grinned. “Yeah. You should go get me another one.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh yeah. I think Lance should get me another beer because he made me spill mine. All those in favor?” Every hand in the room shot up.

  “Vice president doesn’t get to call votes,” I grumbled, but stood up anyway. They jeered as I left the room.

  There was Jamie, still sitting there. Still in a bitchy mood.

  “Do you think you guys could maybe be a little quieter in there? Gigi’s trying to sleep.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.” I saluted.

  “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
/>
  “Oh, language.” I shook my head in disapproval.

  “Why are you being so nasty?”

  “Why are you being so stuck-up? Why can’t you relax a little bit? You’re not any better than any of us.”