High Stakes

by Lory Wendy

  “She’ll die if she finds out that I…” I don’t finish my thought and simply wave in the general direction of the club. I’d agreed to work for Stretch on her behalf, to pay off the debt for what she stole from him. She’d barely been okay with it. She didn’t need to know how far I’d gone.

  “If it wasn’t so sad, how naïve you are about all of this, it would almost be cute.”

  I flinch at how harsh he sounds. The only other time he talked to me like this was when he “trained” me. But this is worse. It’s almost like he’s pissed. At me.

  “What’s your problem?” I ask.

  “What gives you the impression she doesn’t already know?”

  My mouth goes dry at what he’s implying. “There’s no way.”

  He shrugs, pulling out his phone, bringing to light his bloody knuckles.

  “What happened to your hand?”

  “That’s a long story. I have to go.”

  “Rocky!” I call out after him. “Thank you.” He might be acting like a dick, but he saved me in there. I owe him.

  Glancing over his shoulder as he stops at his car, his posture finally relaxes. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says with a cheeky smile. “I might need another favor soon.”

  “That’s cool.”

  I’m beyond relieved at the new turn of events. Not only will I never have to step foot inside this shithole again, I’ll also never have to see Stretch’s shriveled baby dick. Thank God for small favors.

  My relief tempers down as I make my way home and think about what Rocky said. Not about needing a favor, but about Blaire possibly knowing more. Whether it’s a truth I can handle or not, I decide I’ll have to confront her about it as soon as I get home.

  That is until I walk into my house and I’m greeted by a fucking mess. Not the normal kind of mess created by Blaire’s laziness either.The house has been fucking ransacked.

  It’s also freezing.

  I stomp over to the thermostat. Seventy-five degrees. That makes no sense. Raising my hand to the vent, I feel no air coming out.

  I flick on the lights, but nothing happens. Meanwhile, I immediately know exactly what happened. “Blaire!”

  I yell her name two more times before she comes tripping out of her room, bleary-eyed and a black disheveled wig on her head. I don’t even want to know.

  “What the hell, Selena?”

  “What’s wrong with the lights?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Okay, and what the hell happened?” I turn to wave to the turned over TV, only stopping when I notice something else on the wall. Is that a hole?

  Blaire hesitates, and it’s all I can do not to shake the shit out of her.

  “I thought they weren’t allowed to cut off the lights during winter months?”

  Even if I can wrap my mind around her asinine logic, that’s not the point or the only issue here. “And the hole?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  “Well, I have time,” I say, then find myself perking up. “In fact, I have nothing but time because I don’t have to go back to Imperial anymore!”

  “What?” She leans back, despite us being feet apart. “How?”

  “Rocky.”

  “Rocky got you fired?” she asks through gritted teeth.

  I’m disappointed in her reaction. I thought she’d be happy. Regardless, I shake my head to correct her. Rocky didn’t just get me fired. “Rocky got me free!”

  Chapter Six

  If I was a painter or photographer, the view of my backyard would be a wet dream. Not the low fenced-in area and dead flower beds, but the vision that spans from behind the fence and beyond. Blanketed by old remnants of snow and surrounded by pine trees, the mountain tops look like they’re kissing the sky and licking at the clouds. There’s an etherealness that emanates off them, sucking you into a daze that makes you forget the outside world exists.

  It feels like lifetimes ago that I actually hated this house, this porch, even this state and everything it stands for—everything it reminds me of. I looked at the things I had as an evil consolation prize. Sure, you can be nineteen—or in Blaire’s case twenty-two—own a house, your own car, and have your college tuition paid in full; all you have to do is lose the two most important people in your life first.

  If my parents were still here, I know exactly what they’d be doing right now.

  My mom would be sitting right next to me humming some old song while sketching the view and sipping her Irish coffee. My dad would be trying to coax us all outside, to the top of some hill or down some random mountain, determined to make us “enjoy life and nature at its best.” To this day I’ve never met anyone who appreciated the simplest things in life the way they did. And my resentment at them being gone has yet to switch to acceptance or contentment the way people claimed it would.

  “Hey.”

  Batting away the tears, I turn and break into a smile at the sight of Blaire, who’s pushed her face up against the sliding glass door of our sunroom.

  I chuckle at her outfit. It’s not even the middle of the day. “Well, aren’t we the cutest hooker in town.”

  “Aren’t you cold?” She pokes her head out, scrunching up her nose.

  “No. Because unlike you, I have clothes on.”

  “Good point.” She huffs purposely, using the visibility of her breath as a way to check how cold it really is. “I guess it’s not that bad. Want some company?”

  “Yours? Always.”

  “Let me go change. I’ll be right back.”

  “There’s coffee,” I yell as she retreats. But when she returns empty handed, I frown. “Didn’t want any?”

  “Nah. It’s a little too early for me to be drinking.”

  Laughing, I say, “I am definitely drinking regular coffee.”

  “Oh, well…” she pauses, shrugs, then starts eyeing my cup. “I’m not going back inside, so—”

  “I’ve been out here for at least ten minutes. It’s iced coffee now.”

  For a moment, she squints at my mug, as if she’ll be able to see through it or measure its warmth from a distance. Then she sighs and looks out over the backyard.

  “So what are you doing out here?”

  It takes me a minute to decide how truthful I want to be. Things have been tense with us the past few days. Ever since the not paying the heating and electrical bill fiasco, and her bland response to getting a chance to leave Imperial behind us, it seems like we’d been doing a bang-up job avoiding each other. So I was only half hiding from her out here. To admit that, though, would be to spark another argument. I pass.

  “Just thinking.”

  “What about?”

  Looking away, I sigh. “I was thinking about Mom and Daddy actually.”

  In my periphery, I see her bow her head then pull her cotton-covered legs underneath her. Her sock-covered feet tap at the edge of the chair, for one, two, three… ten beats.

  “What about them?” Her voice is an uncharacteristically timid whisper. It almost breaks me.

  Doing my best to keep my voice steady, I reply, “Basic stuff, like how Daddy would be trying to get us to go camping or something, even if it’s not warm enough for that.”

  “Mom would be out here singing show tunes, probably.”

  “Right!” I swing to look at her with a smile.

  She returns it briefly, squints, and looks away. “Rocky’s been asking about them lately.”

  “What about them?”

  “Like if Daddy would have liked him and if he would have thought he was good enough for me. Things like that.”

  “Blaire.” I perk up, almost sloshing my coffee everywhere. “That’s big!” Asking about parents, whether they’re here or not is a huge step in any relationship. Daddy wouldn’t have liked him, though. He never liked any of Blaire’s boyfriends. But Mom… she would have loved him simply because Blaire did.

  “He asked me to move in with him,” she says, with no indication of whether or not she’s c
ool with the idea. “I told him I’d think about it.”

  “What’s there to think about?” I ask quietly, more so out of curiosity than the urge to push her to do it. This day was bound to come, her moving out, and if not with Rocky then with someone else.

  She looks at me then back toward the mountains.

  “You’re not worried about me, are you?” I ask.

  “Of course I am.”

  “We can’t live together forever.”

  “What will you do if I say yes?”

  Confused, I turn to look at her. “What do you mean?”

  “What will you do with the house?”

  “Uh... stay here.”

  She nods slowly, pursing her lips.

  Normally, I don’t fish. If someone has something they want to tell me, it’s up to them to pony up and spit it out. But my curiosity is piqued. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “I still think you should consider selling it.”

  Fuck my life. “Blaire, not now.” This is another topic that’s made a resurgence in the past few months. Blaire’s blown, borrowed, and damn near stolen more money than I can keep track of. To sell the house would be the answer to all her prayers. At least, that’s how she sees it.

  “Just consider it,” she begs.

  “It’s off the table.”

  “Why are you so against it?”

  “Why are you so for it?” I snap back, then bite my tongue to hold back the reminder that it’s my house.

  “Just forget it.”

  “Yeah, let’s.”

  There’s always something about arguing with my sister that makes my chest tight. We don’t fight often, not anymore, but when we do, we fight dirty. That’s the last thing I need right now, so to lighten the mood, I ask, “So, why were you dressed like you were headed for work on the corner earlier?”

  “Rude.” She smacks my shoulder. “I was trying to figure out what to wear tonight. Are you doing anything? I’m thinking of checking out this new little lounge downtown. You should come. Pierce’s probably going to be there.” She drags out his name, grinning for good measure while I stare at her blankly.

  “Who the hell is Pierce?”

  “He’s a friend of the guys. I’d invited him to your party actually. He’s the ‘guy’ I wanted you to meet.”

  It feels like a lifetime ago since that party, the weeks passing by in a way that defies time. I met quite a few people that night, men and women alike, and regardless of all the drinks I had, my memory isn’t that foggy.

  “He didn’t come,” Blaire says.

  “Oh, well that makes sense.”

  “He’s a really cool guy.”

  “So, there was a guy after all?” I tease her, remembering how vehemently she’d denied it that night.

  “Maybe, kind of. Do you want to meet him?”

  Yes. No. The prospect of a new blind date doesn’t lend me the same kind of validation it had a few months ago. Plus, I don’t know if I want to sit down at a dinner table with Rocky yet. I’m still mortified. “I’ll probably just hang out with Hope tonight.”

  Blaire’s legs unfold from their crouch, stretching out in front of her. “Okay, well let me know if you change your mind.” When she doesn’t say anything else but doesn’t make a move to leave, I know there’s more.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  I’m back to not fishing. There’s no fun in conversations that require pulling teeth.

  “I want to find a way to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Pay me back? Blaire, you can’t be that dumb. If anything, I owe you.”

  After the accident my parents and I were in, life was a blur. My nineteenth birthday was celebrated in a hospital bed with a tube shoved down my throat that had been there for weeks. When I opened my eyes, no one needed to tell me my parents were gone. I just knew. But Blaire was there day and night. She held my hand when the fear of being alone physically paralyzed me, and she fed me when my body didn’t have the strength to sit.

  No matter how much we go back and forth, I would do anything in my power to repay her. When my parents died, Blaire was not in a good place, not in the position to raise a teenager, but that’s what happened. She never once threw it in my face. She was there, as my parent, helping me get through school, helping me apply for my first real job, and sharing my disappointment when I found myself in the clubs because corporate America didn’t want me.

  She’s always had my back, and I’m going to be there for her as long as she needs me.

  “So, now what?”

  Knowing she’s referring to what our next steps are, I shrug and say, “For now, let’s act happy that I took the job at Lotus and praise Jesus neither one of us has to step foot in Imperial again.” Jumping from one club to another is yet another step that was never part of the plan, but I’ll take the vibe, the pay, and the overall treatment of Lotus any day of the week.

  I stare at my sister and will myself to confront her, but I can’t bring myself to do it, unsure what good the truth will do. If she knew about me and Stretch, quite simply, I’m not sure I can ever forgive her. If she had no idea, then I’ve spent the past few days believing that my sister—the only family I had left—would sit by blindly and let me get taken advantage of, and that would hurt her.

  “Have you talked to Rocky?” I ask, trying to buy myself time to decide what else to say.

  Though she doesn’t turn to look at me, I notice from her profile her face contorting.

  “We’re kind of fighting right now.”

  Her answer doesn’t surprise me for some reason. And I don’t even want to know. Still, I ask, “Is it about you moving in? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Your sister’s totally a con artist.” Hope chuckles on the other end of the phone.

  “Oh, come on!” I throw myself on the bed, switching my cell to the other ear.

  “What? I like Blaire, but come on. You mean to tell me she can’t get a job checking groceries at King Soopers or something to at least help you with the electricity bill? How is it that Rocky helped you get a job, but he can’t help his own girlfriend?”

  “How’s your job search going, by the way?”

  “Oh, it sucks,” she answers quickly, and I can imagine her shrug. “But unlike your sister, there’s no one depending on me for help with the bills. If there were, I wouldn’t be giving them a hard time about how they chose to pay them for me.”

  I hate this conversation. It’s simple in Hope’s mind. Her world is black and white, no room for areas of gray. And even though she’s only bagging on Blaire in my defense, I still don’t like it.

  “Anyway, I haven’t seen you since my party. I’m the most important person in your life, so how is that possible?”

  She laughs—the reaction I was going for—and for the moment, she doesn’t call me out on my blatant move to change the subject.

  “I should go,” I eventually say after another subject change launches us down the rabbit hole of wondering why the sun is called the sun instead of “the big star” or something of the like. “Next time, visit the pot shops after we talk.”

  “Yeah, for real. That’s what you get for calling instead of texting me.”

  Laughing, I hang up the phone just as a text beeps through.

  It’s Rocky with an urgent message to meet him at Lotus.

  Chapter Seven

  “Rocky!” I rush to the other side of the bar where he’s talking to one of the bouncers. It’s just them and a couple people milling around.

  As far as I can tell, there’s no catastrophe in sight.

  “Rocky?”

  “Whoa.” He puts both hands up when I run up on him. “Chill out. What’s going on with you?”

  “What’s up? What happened?” I lift my phone, reminding him that he texted me to, which I replied immediately that I was on my way.

  “Oh, that. One of my girls bailed, and
I need you to cover for her from now on.”

  I look around at his comment, wondering if there would be a way for me to physically see if I’ve entered the twilight zone. “Did you really and truly text me about an emergency only because you wanted me to work here tonight?”

  “Well, yeah. Why else would I tell you to meet me at the club?”

  “Why would you tell me it was urgent when it wasn’t?” Finally reacting, I punch his shoulder, ignoring the sting in my knuckles. “Jesus fucking Christ, Rocky, I thought someone died.”

  He chuckles, as does the bouncer who walks away.

  “You thought someone died and that I texted you to tell you to meet me at the club, so I could what? Tell you about it in person? Ask you to investigate?”

  “I hate you.” I stomp off in the other direction, but he quickly catches up to me.

  “Sorry, sorry.” But he’s not sorry if his laugh is any indication. “But no, really, I do need your help tonight.”

  I may still be a little pissed, but I’m no dummy. Who would turn down a night full of tips? “I’ll go freshen up then, but you owe me.”

  “Good. Have a good night.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “There’s someone at the bar for you,” Chantel, our lead bartender and bar manager, tells me as I help set up in the back a little while later.

  A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s too early for that. “We’re not even open yet!”

  “Yeah, well…” She stomps away, only to turn back and regard me with an upturned nose. I have no idea what I did to her, but she’s looked at me with the side-eye since the day I walked in here. I thought she was pretty at first—tall, dark, thick and curvy in all the right places. Too bad her attitude is so damn ugly.

  “Need something?” I grit through my teeth.

  She sniffs. “Never mind.”

  Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  There’s only one guy sitting at the bar when I make my way to the front, and I have no idea who he is. I haven’t been here that long, but I can already recognize a few regulars. This guy isn’t one of them. Sitting with his back straight, he looks uncomfortable in his tailored suit; all the while, his eyes dart around with an air of expectation surrounding him. I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I can’t put my finger on where. He reminds me a lot of Rocky, too—at least in profile with his short blond hair and the broad set of his shoulders.