The Gamble: A Novel

by Xavier Neal

  I roll my eyes and turn back around to Warren. “Why do I love him again?”

  Luca chuckles but Warren darts his eyebrows down. “You...you love him? You're in love with Luca?”

  “Sounds fucking weird, right?”

  He nods slowly.

  “You should hear it when he says it,” I joke at the same time my phone starts ringing. After checking my buzzing phone on the counter, I sigh, “Damn it. I have to answer this.”

  Warren nods again and buries his hands in his pockets.

  I swipe the button. “This is Alexxa Ward.”

  “Alexxa,” Ken grumps from the other end. “Where were you this afternoon?”

  Passing by Luca, who gives my ass a playful swat, I rush towards his room and answer, “At the office.”

  “No,” he snaps. “You weren't, because there was a delivery that needed to be signed for and no one there to do it.”

  I crack the door closed. “Betty started feelin' ill-”

  “She always feels ill. She's pregnant.”

  One more reason to not do that shit any time soon. Rest easy. I haven't started day dreaming about little baby Lucas. Honestly? Big baby Luca is enough for now. We can just practice in case that day should ever come up. I like practicing. A lot.

  “I'm sorry. I wasn't aware-”

  “It doesn't matter that you weren't aware it was coming. You were supposed to be in the office until five. You weren't. A mistake was made and you will correct it.”

  “Of course.”

  “You're going to need to go and pick up the package tomorrow right when they open.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And you're going to bring it by my apartment by 10 A.M. or there's a high chance you'll be needing a replacement sooner than expected.”

  Shit...

  “I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again. I'll be by your apartment as soon as I've picked up the package. You have my word. Not a minute after 10.”

  “10:01 and you're looking for a new job,” Ken bites before ending the call.

  Nothing like almost getting fired before you even officially start your new job. Fuck. I need a beer.

  I slide the phone in the sweatshirt pocket and slip out of Luca's room just as Warren snips in a whisper, “....all to win some fucking bet?”

  “What kinda bet?” I ask heading back for the kitchen.

  Immediately the two of them stiffen. Instead of answering my question, Luca says, “Everything okay, baby?”

  “Not exactly,” my mutter is followed by me grabbing a beer from the fridge. “Apparently jumping ship early got me in trouble.”

  “But Betty-”

  “I know.” Shaking my head I sigh, “Believe me I know. What's even worse is I have to be at the post office as soon as they open tomorrow then hand deliver a package to him at his apartment before 10 A.M. or I'll be begging Lori for my job back.”

  Luca smirks. “So you're telling me to keep you up all night and silence the alarm on your phone?”

  I roll my eyes and smile. However seeing the tension on Warren's face redirects the conversation. “Why do you look like that?” I use the edge of the counter to pop the top off. “How bad did you lose this bet?”

  My eyes oscillate between the two of them spotting a familiar look in Luca's eyes.

  What the hell is going on?

  Luca clears his throat. “It's not important.”

  “What was it?”

  “You uh...ready to grill now?”

  “Luca...”

  The way he brushes past my objection doesn't sit well. “We can take 'em to the big grill by the pool. Chill out. Maybe cool off. I think Reggie said they were gonna play some beer pong. What do you think Warren? Down by the pool?”

  He stumbles over his own words, “Yeah that would...you would...that...cool. Yeah.”

  My eyebrows furrow at him. “What. Was. The. Bet?”

  The minute I shoot Luca another glance he looks away.

  That can't be good.

  “Warren,” I sternly start and relocate my attention to him.

  “It's not a big deal,” my boyfriend tries once more. “Just let it go, baby. Let's move on.”

  “If it's not a big fucking deal then why won't you two answer me about it?”

  His silence only scares me further.

  “Warren, what was the bet?”

  Weakly he pleads, “Alexxa please don't-”

  “Warren.”

  He gives his face a hard scrub and mutters incoherently to himself. Afterward, he sighs, “Luca bet me he could nail you by the end of the summer.”

  There's no way to misinterpret that is there? Like paint my nails or wear my nails or....anything? Any way? Nope? Didn't think so.

  “So....basically the two of you turned me into every stereotypical 90's teen movie ever?” I sarcastically snip and slide my beer across the counter. Anger tugs at my nerve endings while I try to refrain from screaming obscenities. “What were the fucking terms?”

  “That's really not important,” Warren denies and looks Luca's direction for help.

  His voice tries to interject, “Alexxa, I can explain.”

  Too livid to even glance his way, I keep my eyes locked on Warren. “Answer me.”

  “Alexxa-”

  “Answer me or I'll use a beer bottle to end your unintended celibacy in an unwanted way.”

  “You still didn't ditch the dusty balls?” Luca questions. “How the fuck did you strike out on a sure thing?”

  He flips Luca off, which is when I take a step forward. “Whoa. Whoa. Okay! Okay! Shit!”

  Luca tries to warn him, “Don't. Keep your mouth fucking shut.”

  Warren sees the malevolent emotions pumping through my eyes and caves, “The terms were simple. If Luca couldn't nail you by the end of the summer he had to pay my half of the rent for the remainder of our lease and because he was so sure it wouldn't take long to get you into bed, he agreed to pay for each month he didn't accomplish it prior to the final date.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I snap, “At least I'm worth thousands of dollars.”

  And at least we skipped the part where you make the ugly girl think she's pretty and some tramp reminds her she's not. That would've made an already fucked up situation just so much worse.

  “And what does he get by winning? Same thing?”

  Warren's expression falls harder than before.

  I hope you have bail money. I'm gonna fucking need it.

  “Warren.”

  Luca growls, “Keep your mouth fucking shut.”

  My step closer rushes the words from his mouth, “I...I...I have to wash his sheets for...a few months.”

  “Sheets?” My clamoring causes him to cringe.

  In a low whisper I hear Luca sigh, “Why couldn't you just keep your fucking mouth closed...”

  “Fucking sheets?” I continue to shriek. “Fucking laundry!?”

  Did this fucking monstrosity sound better in their pig headed brains? In what bizarre universe would washing sheets balance out to thousands of dollars paid out in rent? Unless you're having your sheets washed by the goddamn First Lady it's safe to state, to Luca this wasn't ever intended to be a real fucking challenge. He really does think of me just like everyone else. He just learned to fucking hide it better.

  “Well,” I sharply turn on my heels, “looks like you won, Luca. Like always.”

  His pomegranate face tries to plead, “Alexxa-”

  “You were wrong that day on the ice when you told me that was the only time I ever got to say you lose.” Hiding the imbalanced rush of hatred and devastation trying to rule me, I sniffle and grab my purse off the counter. “Glad you won your fucking bet because you just lost your fucking girl.”

  Promptly he's on his feet and rushing towards me, “Alexxa wait-”

  “Don't fucking bother.”

  Just as I pull open the front door, he tosses a hand on it, shutting it closed again. “We gotta talk about this.”

/>   “We don't.”

  “You gotta let me explain.”

  “I don't.”

  “You have to let me fix this. You have to give me another chance. You have to-”

  “I don't have to do shit, Luca.” My eyes stay planted on the closed door. “Now, I suggest you move your goddamn hand or you're gonna learn self-defense class did more than just give me a nice ass.”

  He lets out a deep sigh, but drops his hand.

  With a hard yank on the knob I free myself from the apartment, from the two people I once called my friends, and the idiotic notion I was ever more than another trophy for Luca Larson's shelf.

  Doubt I'm even in the front row. Probably just tucked away behind all the other virgins he sold a line of bullshit to and licked his lips at. Wow. Even in the world of metaphors I'm not fucking special. Now that's impressive.

  Luca

  My head hits the back of the couch while some sports caster continues to ramble on about predictions of the baseball season.

  Guess I should've predicted Alexxa would find out one way or another. Fuck, I probably should've been able to predict it would be fucking Warren to do it too. He flaps his fucking mouth like a goddamn chick, why wouldn't he cry about the dirty little deed like one too? What? No, this isn't all my fucking fault! He was in on it too! He shares half the blame! Fine. At least a third. Yes a third. Fuck. See why I hate one on one sports? No teammates to help you out when you need them. Ugh. And the one fucking teammate I would call on, I royally fucked over. Not taking home any MVPs this weekend.

  “I think he's going to help turn the season around John,” one of the voices says before chortling.

  My season is over. Fuck. My goddamn life may be over. You know, I've come back from many things. A broken home. A broken bone. A broken future and each time I came back a slightly better player or person, if I'm allowed to be bias. But I've never seen anything like the look I saw on Alexxa's face yesterday. It wasn't sadness or agony, two emotions I know how to go on the defense with. No. It was something much simpler. Hate. How the fuck do you take the defensive on hate? With love I would assume too, but I already fucking love her. She just...she'll just never believe me now.

  Warren flops down on the other couch.

  We haven't spoken to each other since she left. He tried to chase after her while I started to drink my frustration. I'm convinced she just needed some space. A normal chick would be a blubbering mess, which isn't Alexxa, but even she has her limits. I'm gonna try to fix this tonight. I just...I wish I didn't feel like a fresh out of high school rookie with no understanding of the pro league rules and regulations. Betting on your girlfriend has been noted and I understand a fucking penalty is necessary. No sex for six weeks. Chick flick marathons for four months. Dinner with her bitchy roommate twice a week every week for the next year, whatever. As long as at the end of it we're still together, she's still on my team, I'll take whatever's coming for me. And we are still together. Keep your negative comments to yourself. That shit was just a fucking fight. All couples have fights. Or at least that's what I learned last night between beers nine and ten while watching How I Met Your Mother.

  Warren quietly questions, “What times the party?”

  Rolling my head to the side, still staring at the T.V. I answer, “I should get going if I'm gonna pick her up.”

  “You're not gonna pick her up,” he quickly denies.

  “Yeah,” I agree with minimal hesitation. “She probably needs a couple hours to finish cooling off.”

  “Cooling off?” His voice lifts in disbelief. “Are you....are you still drunk?”

  Thought about it. But that'd be like going into a Final Four game after an all night bender. Wouldn't work out well for anyone.

  I turn my attention to him.

  “There's no cooling off, Luca. The shit between you and Alexxa is over.”

  “It's not over.”

  “It's over.”

  “It's not fucking over!” I snap. “Just because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut because you're so fucking miserable a chick like Alexxa wanted me instead of you, doesn't mean it's fucking over!”

  “You think I fucking sabotaged you? You think I'm jealous Alexxa was stupid enough to fucking fall for you?”

  “What the fuck would you call it?”

  He makes a frustrated hand gesture. “You're so fucked up it's unreal sometimes! Well let me tell you something Mr. High and Fucking Suck My Cock, I wasn't miserable because Alexxa wanted you. If I wanted her, I could've had her first and I know that brain between your legs refuses to believe it, but the one up top reserved strictly for sports use knows damn well I'm twice the fucking man you'll ever be.”

  Rage shoves my body to the edge of the couch. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “You fucking heard me,” he grunts and mimics the action. “She was in my bed and my arms long before she even thought about yours.”

  A surge of resentment races through my fist. In one solid swing a punch lands on Warren's jaw and he's up on his feet swinging back. He lands a blow in my ribs, which hurts more than I thought it would.

  Must be beer ribs. Only excuse.

  I retaliate with a right hook. He shoves his knee into my abdomen. The violent pendulum continues until we're both bleeding and aching more than we care to fess up too. Neither one of us says anything as we back up slowly in retreat towards our rooms.

  What the fuck is there to say? He's fucking wrong. Alexxa would never have ended up with him. I would've never let that shit happen. Bet or no goddamn bet. She's not his girl. She's mine. She's always been mine even if it took me too long to fucking admit it.

  Once I'm showered off and cleaned up, I head for the Alexxa's party.

  Wonder how fucking awkward this is going to be. Nothing like proudly introducing your co-workers to your girlfriend while she's not fucking speaking to you.

  Entering The Drunken Hound, which is basically a grown up game land, I immediately spot the roped off section Lori rented for the party.

  No, I didn't fucking let her blow me to convince her this was the right thing to do. I am capable of persuasion with more than my cock.

  “Oh my God, Luca's here!” Lindsey shouts. Frantically waving at me, she says, “Come on! Come on! We're gonna do shots!”

  I slide a hand in my jean pocket and stroll over. “Shots huh?”

  “Buttery nipples!” She squeals. “Alexxa's favorites!”

  My eyes cut away from the group of half dressed women to search for my girlfriend they're about to toast to instead of with. Almost immediately my eyes locate her by the bar. There's a sharp throb in my chest.

  It's just from Warren's knee cap.

  I drink in the short black lace mini dress that's hugging the ass I was pounding just yesterday and the way her gorgeous tits are being held up like a free offering for all the spank banks in need of fresh material. Jealousy presses my lips together. The man beside her steals a quick glance of her ass as she strolls back our direction empty handed.

  If this were a normal night out, I'd fucking lay into him, but as you know I'm already on the line for other irresponsible shit I've done. Last thing I need right now is to add to it.

  “Alexxa!” Gayle, the older divorced toddler teacher who doesn't get out much, shouts. “Look who's here just in time for shots!”

  She stops right beside me and I brace myself for fire and brimstone.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman who's been turned into a game behind her back by her two best friends.

  “Luca.” A wide grin appears on her face. “You finally made it.”

  Confused I try to roll with the warm welcoming, “Yeah. Sorry I'm late. Got in a fight with my roommate.”

  “Oh now,” Lindsey pouts in a baby voice. “That's awful...”

  Dudes really hate that voice in our direction. Every single fucking one of us.

  “Sounds like you need a shot,” Lori encourages from the other side of Lindsay. “We ordered extra
s!”

  “No thanks,” I deny and slide my other hand in my pocket. “Gotta stay sober and drive Alexxa home.”

  “Boooooo,” the women say in unison, including the others who haven't verbally greeted me but eye fucked me already.

  Can you blame them? Latest dick head tactics aside, I do look pretty good in jeans and a collared shirt.