Pull

by Claire Wallis

  My hands drop, and I look back and forth between them.

  “This conversation is over,” I say, walking to the door. When my hand hits the knob, I turn to face them. “Now why don’t you two filthy asshats go find Nikki.”

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  “Is everything okay?” Emma asks when I slink back into her apartment.

  “Yeah.” I sit back down on her sofa and run my hand up and down the top of her thigh. “They’re just freaked out about something that happened regarding the game.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I got time.” Her buttery grin tells me she’s not going to settle for the short answer.

  “Do you remember a couple of weeks ago, when I mentioned that we’re thinking about moving the game to new digs?” She nods her head. “Well, Carl’s got his knickers in a bunch over the fact that we don’t wanna run the game out of his Carson Street building anymore. Someone found a new place for us, and quite simply, the new place is way better. It’s more private, less risky. And it comes with more opportunities.”

  “Opportunities for what?”

  I pause for a long time, not knowing how to answer.

  “Expansion.” It’s the only thing I can think to say that isn’t a lie.

  “Oh.” She stands and walks into the kitchen. “So, you guys want to let more people toss their chips in?”

  This is not going in a good direction. “Not really. No.”

  “Then what kind of expansion are you talking about?” she says from the other side of the kitchen wall. I want to make up a bullshit answer or change the subject, but she’ll call me out on it. I know it.

  “We are considering expanding our offerings.” I scrunch my eyes up in preparation for the discussion that’s about to happen. My shoulders are raised, and I’m wincing. Good thing she can’t see through walls. I hear the fridge door open, and then the pop of a Snapple seal. Twice.

  Emma comes out of the kitchen holding a pair of glass tea bottles. I relax my shoulders and put my stone face back on.

  “Sounds interesting.” She sits back down and swings her legs up onto the couch, handing me one of the bottles and taking a long drink from the other. Her lower lip curves beneath the bottle’s opening, and I watch her throat flex up and down with each swallow. I set my bottle on the coffee table, lift my hand, and put the tip of my index finger into the cleft at the base of her neck. I brush that small pocket of skin with one square centimeter of my own, and even with such a miniscule skin-to-skin connection, I feel my heart inching toward a dull roar. But Emma doesn’t even flinch. She just keeps on drinking until half the bottle is gone. When she pulls the glass from her mouth, I watch her tongue lurch out from between her lips just long enough to lap up a small drop of wet. I want to put my mouth on hers and taste her tea-sweetened tongue. I want to squelch her questions, to make her stop digging. Because I promised her I wouldn’t lie to her ever again.

  “So, do you care to tell me what your expanded offerings will be?” Her voice is wearing an inflection straight out of an ’80s sex flick. I lift my index finger from the dip at the base of her neck and sweep my hand around to the back of her head, holding her face to mine. She smiles one of her simple, effortless smiles, and I know immediately that her digging isn’t purposeful. It’s playful. I’m relieved.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss these things with someone outside of the game circle,” I say, trying like mad to be nothing more than playful myself. I don’t want to sound patronizing. Or secretive. Or asshole-y. Because that will just make her ask more questions. “It’s for your own protection.”

  “Is that so?” She leans sideways to put her half-empty bottle down on the coffee table next to mine. She’s moved on to being downright flirty. Now I know for sure that the digging has stopped.

  “Yep. You’ll just have to wait until the next time you’re invited.” Now she is smiling a full-on shit-eating grin.

  “And when will that be?”

  “Depends.” I take my hand off the back of her head and drop it onto the top of her knee.

  “On what?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss these things with someone outside of the game circle,” I say again, this time in a monotonous, robotic drone. She puts her hands up on my shoulders and pulls me down so we are eye to eye.

  “Fuck. You. Robo-Man,” she says, trying like hell to keep herself from laughing. And then a smile is there again. The big kind. The kind that makes me believe the grown-up me is still alive and kicking, and that he is working his damnedest to keep things in line.

  I can’t help but stare at Emma’s smile. It’s wide as sin. And I’m at peace.

  At least until the guys come back with Nikki.

  Chapter 19

  Matt—Present Day

  It smells like a cocktail of smoke and vomit. Devon is next to me, and as soon as we open the door, his hand flies up to cover his face. He’s walking down the hallway now, trying to keep the foul smell from seeping through his fingers and into his nose and mouth. He doesn’t want to taste it. But it doesn’t bother me that much. It smells like my college fraternity house on a Sunday morning. Only more metallic. The undertones at the fraternity were always woody; this is more like sheet metal slathered in puke and cigars. It’s never smelled like this in here before. It’s always smelled…I don’t know…sexier. I wonder what’s changed.

  When we get to the big metal doors at the end of the hallway, Nate knocks on them hard. A second later, Brad peeks out at us. His face is pulpy and red. Like he got smacked around or something. His eyes move from Nate to Devon and then settle on me.

  “You’re here,” he says. “It’s about fucking time.”

  “Yea, well, some of us had to work today,” I say with a flip of my middle finger. “A real job. We don’t get Tuesdays off just so we can get ready to play hostess to a bunch of losers sitting around a poker table.” Shit. I think I just referred to myself as a loser.

  “Screw you,” Brad says as he opens the door and the three of us walk in. “David wants to talk to you. He’s over with Carl.” Brad lifts his arm and points. Carl’s fat ass is parked in a seat at a green-felted table across the room. David’s standing next to him. His back is toward me, but I see him lift a cigarette up to his mouth. His shoulders expand with a deep breath. It’s then that I notice the fingers of his free hand rapidly tapping against the side of his leg. David is nervous. Why?

  The only other time I’ve seen him nervous was in the parking lot under the 9th Street Bridge.

  Something is going on.

  I scan the room, looking for anything askew. Hannah and the girls are here, as usual, delivering drinks in their up-the-booty short shorts. Cameron is busy swapping chips for cash. And nearly every table is filled with players. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Except for the smell in the hallway. And the fingers bouncing off of David’s jeans.

  As I watch them move in a slow rhythm, Emma pops into my head. I know for a fact there’s nothing up with her because I just spent the entire day working with her, and she was as happy as a sugar-jazzed kid on Christmas morning, prancing around the office like she owns the world. After work, while I sat in my car and waited at the stoplight, I saw her climb onto the 61C and head for home. That was only a few hours ago. She’s fine.

  After all, if there were a problem with Emma, David wouldn’t be here, would he?

  He must see me coming because as I get closer, David turns toward me and steps over to greet me with a handshake. He offers me the hand with the fingers that, seconds ago, were pattering against his leg. I look down at his extended arm and see the birds coiled around it. It’s like they’re a bunch of colorful little pieces of David all put together to form a whole him.

  “Hey,” he says, lifting his cigarette up to suck in another drag as we shake hands. “How’s it going, man?”

  “Good. Good.” I nod my head a few quick ti
mes. He looks at me only briefly before returning his gaze to the rest of the room.

  “You guys have a good day at the office?” He’s never asked me about work before. And, really, he isn’t asking me about it now, either. He’s asking me if Emma had a good day today, but he doesn’t want to come off sounding like a jerk. I know his question has nothing to do with me, and that’s okay.

  “Yeah. It was a pretty good day. Emma was on cloud nine or something. Seriously. You guys must have had a good weekend,” I say, trying to set his clearly distracted mind at ease. “She was still bouncing when she got on the bus after work. I saw her from my car.” That should do it.

  He looks visibly relieved.

  “Good to hear. Thanks for watching out for my girl at work, man. Means a lot. And, um, thanks for playing it cool with her about what happened last week.”

  “No problem. Seems like she’s doing okay with the whole thing.” I wonder if he knows about Emma’s Saturday-morning phone call.

  “Yeah.” His arm lifts, and he runs his hand down the back of his head. I hear him sigh as he continues to look around the room.

  “What’s going on, David?” I ask. Mostly because I can’t help it.

  “Poker. Why?”

  “I know it’s not just poker. Something’s up,” I counter. “You’re nervous about something. And the hallway smells like a fucking lion puked up its kill.”

  “That’s ’cause one did,” he says with a lift of his eyebrows. And just like that, his back is to me and he’s walking away. Clearly he has no interest in telling me what’s going on. So I shut up, walk back to Devon and Nate, and find a table.

  I watch David all night. He pours drinks and cashes out chips. And his eyes shoot to the door every time it opens. I watch him talk to Brad then to Carl then to Cameron, all in between more casual conversations with an occasional player or waitress. All the while, his fingers are tapping against his thigh every chance they get.

  And then, something happens. Brad opens the door and some guy and his friends walk in. Let me correct myself: Some cocky-as-hell, badass guy and his fucking entourage strut in, and the attitude in the room completely pops. As soon as the dude’s in the door, David’s face lightens, and he slowly starts making his way across the room toward his new guests.

  I look around the room, and it appears I’m the not the only one who noticed. Cameron and the rest of the guys working here tonight are watching this guy, too. And they’re all smirking, just like David. None of the other players seem to notice, though. Except for Carl. He’s staring at the badass man with a scowl the size of Kansas, but he makes no move to stand up, nor does he stop playing the game. I, on the other hand, drop my cards onto the table and announce that I’m out. I want an eye on whatever’s happening.

  David shakes the man’s hand, and from my seat, I focus carefully on their words.

  Badass: “She told me she lied, David. And right now, she’s paying for your trouble.”

  David: “I hope you’re making sure she doesn’t forget. I’d hate for her to try something like that again.”

  Badass: “Trust me, she ain’t gonna try any shit like that ever again. Between what you did and what I’m doin’, she isn’t gonna tell another lie ever again.”

  David: “I already made sure of that.”

  Badass: “I heard. But I want you to know I made double sure. When she stumbled into my office, I about thought she had a run-in with a goddamn honey badger. Her hair was a fucking mess, full of dirt and puke and blood, and caked to her head like goddamned glue. What the hell did you have her so fucked up on?”

  David: “She was already high when we found her.”

  Badass: “I’m gonna have to find out what it was ’cause the shit I got don’t do nobody like that. Unless she overindulged. Which sometimes she does. Hell, we all do from time to time. Isn’t that right, my friend?”

  David: “I guess so, Ray. I guess so.”

  The badass named Ray pats David on the shoulder and smiles. He’s got a pair of gold teeth in the front, probably to mask the meth-rot. I cringe at the thought of the pigeonhole the poor man has shoved himself into. Once you have gold teeth, a career change isn’t an option. Badass Ray is either a drug kingpin, a rap star, a pimp, a slum lord, or all of the above.

  The pair of them walk together between the tables. They disappear down the back hallway, and Badass Ray’s entourage spreads out across the room, taking empty seats wherever they can find them.

  What the hell has David gotten himself into?

  Chapter 20

  David—Present day

  I can’t believe it worked. It’s a motherfucking miracle that Nikki went back to Ray and owned up to her lie. The two of us really are even now, I guess, which has to count for something. I know she was only trying to exact some kind of revenge for what happened with Ricky, and to tell the truth, I feel a little bad about the whole thing.

  Ray sits down on one of the black leather swivel chairs and motions for me to join him. I need to give him my full attention, so I close the door behind me and have a seat.

  “This is quite an operation you boys got goin’ on in here,” he says with his gold-garnished mouth.

  “Yeah, we do pretty well.” I cross my ankle up on top of the opposite knee and lean back in the chair. “But we’d like to do better.”

  “I’ll bet you would.” He lights a cigarette and draws a deep breath through the filter. “New place will be ready in a few days. Think Carl’s gonna shut his mouth about it anytime soon?”

  “He’s done bitching. I told you before, he’s only a customer. He’s not a partner. The only reason he thinks he has a fucking say in this whole thing is because we’ve been using his building. He’s got no control over anything now, and it’s driving him mad. But it doesn’t matter because the choice isn’t his to make. It’s mine.”

  “You and your boys are gonna like the new place,” he says with a grin. And it’s true. We are going to like it. It’s twice the size of this place; there’s a stage and a sound system, two bars, and six private rooms in the back. Rooms we can use for anything we want. Plus, the location is more private. “When you wanna talk about the extras?” he adds before I can tell him how right he is.

  “Now.” I put both my hands behind my head and weave my fingers together. He picks up on my signal-flare confidence and narrows his eyes. I actually think he’s a little nervous. Good. He should be.

  “We gonna have to negotiate all this. It ain’t as easy as all that.” He’s trying to fuck with my confidence.

  “Yes it is.” I lean forward in my seat and put my hands on my knees. I stick my face toward him and drop the tone and cadence of my words. “There’s no negotiating here. It’s pretty damn straightforward. You provide the extras and get seventy-five. We bring the customers and keep twenty-five. Plain and simple.”

  “What if I decide I want ninety?” He’s trying to intimidate me. It won’t work.

  “Then we’ll take our business elsewhere,” I say calmly. “Come on. You know that. But you don’t really want ninety, do you? You know how easy this is going to be. You know the seventy-five isn’t going to require any more than an hour of your time every week. You’d be a fool to push me on this.”

  He looks at me and stands up from his seat.

  “And I know you don’t want to be a fool,” I add dryly.

  “Oh I’m no fool. But I’m telling you right now, you’re gonna wanna consider upping my share to ninety.” He bends over me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Hell, maybe you even gonna wanna consider handin’ over your whole damn game.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Now don’t go and say shit like that before hearing me out. There’s no need to be hasty. You see, our friend Nikki mentioned some pretty little redheaded piece of sunshine you’ve got hanging on your arm these days. She said you seem to be very interested in keepin’ that young lady happy. I’m guessing you wouldn’t wanna see nothin’ happen to her now,
would you?” He straightens himself and lifts his hands from my shoulders.

  I stand and step up to his face. Our chests are perfectly aligned, and his cocky-ass smile makes me want to send those motherfucking gold teeth straight through the back of his skull. But I don’t lift a single finger because I don’t need to. Instead, I do what I always do. I calculate and control.

  “Like I said, you don’t want to be a fool,” I say.

  “All I’m askin’ is for you to reconsider your offer. That’s all. I’m just givin’ you something to think about.” He steps back away from me and walks toward the door. “We’ll see you and your boys on movin’ day. Enjoy your game tonight, and promise me you’ll think about things.”

  “I’ll be doing plenty of thinking. Don’t worry about that.” He walks out into the hallway, my brain already filling with thoughts and ideas. It appears, after all, that Ray is indeed a fool. He has no idea what powerful seeds he’s just planted. No idea at all.

  I follow ten paces behind him and stop at the end of the hallway. He looks at his associates sitting at the tables, and as soon as they see him, they drop their cards, leave their chips on the table, and follow him out like a bunch of pussy-whipped gangster ducklings.

  When the door closes behind them, Brad tips his chin to me in question. I nod my head, turn my back to the room, and start to walk back to the office. I need to think. On my way down the hallway I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone. I want to check in with my pretty little redheaded sunshine.

  Hi.

  It’s after midnight. She’s probably already asleep.

  Hi back.

  Were you sleeping?

  No. Watching CSI. How’s the game?

  The usual.

  That’s ’cause I’m not there.

  True.

  Aren’t u usually too busy to bother me on Tuesday nights?

  Wanted to make sure u were alright.

  I’m fine. Just missing u.

  Yeah?

  Terribly.

  Good.

  Lying low this evening?