by Nella Tyler
What had Savannah hoped to gain by literally tattling on Ben? A reward? A promotion? To what? She had no proof of what he was doing, either. I'd even begun to question her claim that she had done it to help me get rid of Ben so that he wouldn't bother me anymore. The more I thought about that, the more ridiculous it sounded. Savannah had never gotten involved in my personal relationships, not to that degree. She knew I didn't need any help encouraging or discouraging Ben. So why?
I sighed, wiped my eyes, and then started my car. As I drove home, refusing to cry anymore – while I was driving at least – I realized the only reason that I could come up with was that Savannah was jealous. Not necessarily of me per se, but maybe because Ben had chosen me and not her. Savannah was a beautiful woman, but we were different. We had different looks, different personalities, different everything.
It wasn't my fault that Ben had singled me out. Whether I wanted to stay with Ben or not, or regardless of the ups and downs we'd had in our relationship, it wasn't up to Savannah to referee for me. The only reason I had opened up to her in the first place was because I thought she was my friend. Whether she gave me advice or merely shrugged, the fact that she listened was all I had wanted from her. She didn't have to agree with me or offer me any tips on how to deal with Ben – or any situation, for that matter.
Friends were supposed to just listen, support each other. Advice could be given, but that didn't mean it had to be followed. I had been on the listening end with Savannah many times, as well. Sometimes she took my advice and sometimes not. I didn't think anything of it. Savannah's life was her own. If she made mistakes, it was on her. The same applied to me.
Now when it came to Ben, I felt a little more confused. My attraction to him vied with my disapproval of the whole cheating scenario. I didn’t care whether he was doing it so that he could make money or because, as he said, it was just a lark to see if he could get away with it. To me, that was just plain stupid. The next time I saw him, I was going to tell him that. In fact, all of this had happened because of Ben. I began second-guessing myself.
Should I have said something of my suspicions about Ben earlier? I hadn't had any proof. It was just a gut feeling. And until he had come right out and said something about it, my gut feeling could have been way off base. I didn't mess with people's lives like that, especially in the casino industry.
Being blackballed or banned from a casino could have serious ramifications on anyone. Word and warnings traveled fast. I wouldn't be surprised if all the casinos in Atlantic City had now been alerted about Ben. More than likely, still shots of his face from the cameras in the ceiling were probably well known to security personnel in every casino throughout the city. While that didn't make me feel good, it wasn't my fault. Ben had made his decisions for his own reasons.
While no one, as of yet, had officially come out and caught him cheating, just the idea of it caused casino owners to raise their hackles and get rid of potential trouble before it insinuated itself in their places of business. In the old days, the mob had a violent way of taking care of cheaters, but this was the twenty-first century. Things weren't done that way anymore, or at least they weren't as far as I knew.
A horn honked and I jerked myself back to attention. I had stopped at a red light and now it was green. I slowly pulled through the intersection and made my way back to my apartment. My apartment for now, anyway. I parked in my spot, my heart once again thudding with dread. How in the hell was I going to move if I couldn't come up with my rent money? How long would it take me to find another job? It was near the end of the pay period, so I knew I would have a paycheck coming next week, but if and when I started a new job, there would be a two-week delay before I received that first check, maybe even longer.
I parked in my parking spot, turned off the engine, and just sat. While my apartment was certainly not luxurious, it wasn't too bad, and I was comfortable here. I felt safe here. This had been my home since I got divorced. Moving here had made me feel as uncertain and insecure as I had when I moved out of the house that I had shared with my husband. I didn't take to change well. In fact, I hated change.
With tears burning behind my eyelids once again, I heaved a heavy, heartbroken sigh and slowly climbed out of my car. I made my way up to my apartment, fingering my keys as I went upstairs. I inserted my key into the door and pushed it open. I was surrounded by familiarity. Comfort. Security.
I shut the door softly behind me and leaned against it as the tears once again began to flow. I felt as if the proverbial rug had been pulled out from under my feet. Someone could knock me over with a feather. I tried to think of all the stupid clichés I could to emphasize my stunned emotions. I put my keys and purse down on the kitchen counter and then moved into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. What was I going to do?
I had never been fired before. That certainly wouldn't look good on an application at any of the other casinos, especially if I was asked the reason for my firing. On top of that, potential casino employers always called around to get information on prior employees. All they had to find out was that I was a "troublemaker" or that I had been involved – in any way – in a cheating scandal and that would pretty much to nix my ability to get a job at any of the other casinos in Atlantic City.
The tears came, and I spent the next couple of hours roaming around my apartment, flopping down on my bed, crying my eyes out, and generally feeling sorry for myself. I waffled between self-pity and fury, not only at myself, but also at Savannah and Ben. Mostly Ben. This was his doing, even if he hadn’t meant this to happen. My life had been cruising along just fine before he had come into my life. No, I wasn't rich, but it had been enough. I knew I could afford rent, bills, and groceries. Now what?
A couple of hours after I got back home, I checked my phone. No phone calls, but I had gotten a text message from Ben asking how things had gone. I tossed the phone back on the sofa, not even wanting to respond. I didn't want to talk to anybody. I decided to take a long, hot shower, hoping that would purge some of the distraught emotions raging through me.
I stayed under the water until it turned lukewarm. Wasteful, but I didn't care. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my naked body, and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen from crying, my nose red, and my features pale. I looked like a mess. I felt like a mess.
I wandered into my bedroom and I eyed the bed. Maybe I would just close the drapes, climb into bed, and try to go to sleep, to escape for just a little while. I think I still had a Xanax or two from what Savannah had given me a while back, but I wasn’t sure. I wanted to be oblivious. I didn't want to think about my dire predicament or the changes that would come.
I didn't want to think about how quickly I had to find another job or try and figure out when my next paycheck would come. Wrapped in my towel, I padded out to the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. It wasn't full, but it wasn't empty, either. I could make do and stretch what I had for a least a week. I would take the bus if I went anywhere, especially for any job hunting endeavors. That would save money on gas.
The problem was that I couldn't concentrate. I needed to spend the rest of today just allowing my emotions to overflow. After I cried myself out, after I worked through those emotions and found some clarity, then I would pick myself up and start thinking and planning. I didn't want to be impulsive because when I was impulsive, I made poor decisions.
I was making my way back to my bedroom, thinking to put on some shorts and a T-shirt and then just climb into bed to wallow in self-pity when I heard the ding of my phone. Another text message. I picked up the phone from the sofa, flipped it over and realized it wasn't Ben. Savannah. With a sigh, I opened the text message.
"Bitch!"
I was stunned. Why would Savannah call me the bitch when she was the one that had betrayed me in the first place? She was the one that had gone up to the boss and – another text message:
"I hope you're happy now. Now we’re both out
of a job. Then again, maybe you don't have to worry because you're fucking a billionaire. Bitch."
Once again, I felt tears flood my eyes. Savannah had always been a good friend. I couldn't understand this change in her or what had prompted it. My heart was heavy enough without having to deal with her vitriol, so arguing with myself and finally convincing myself that I didn't need to respond to her text messages, I simply turned the phone off. I'm sure that when I turned it back on again there would be more messages, but I resolved that I would delete them without even looking.
Savannah had precipitated her own downfall. She had dragged me down with her. I felt bad for her because I knew she wasn't in much better financial shape than I was. Still.
Closing my bedroom drapes, I climbed in between the sheets without taking the Xanax. The last thing I needed at this point was to start relying on antidepressants or anti-anxiety medication to get me through this. I would get through it. I felt emotionally exhausted and with my heart still pounding and my stomach churning in dread and uncertainty, I turned over and buried my head under the pillow, trying to push everything that it happened up until this point out of my mind. For just a little while, I needed to forget. Perhaps it was the mental and emotional exhaustion, but I quickly found myself slipping into slumber.
*
I woke up a few times to find the room dark, but I laid in bed until slumber once again overtook me. I woke up confused a couple of times, not sure why I was in bed and not at work, and then everything just came crashing down on top of me again. I cried myself to sleep a couple more times that night, and when I woke up the following morning my eyes felt tight, my throat was sore, my nose clogged.
When I looked at the clock it was around eight o'clock in the morning. I slowly got up, realizing that I couldn't hide in my bed for another day. Time to face the music. Time to move forward. I padded into the bathroom, took one look at myself in the mirror, and shook my head. Pathetic. I took a quick shower and then brushed out my hair, completing in my typical morning routine. Maybe that's what I needed to do. Go through the motions.
This morning I would walk down to the corner store and grab a couple of newspapers to see who was hiring. I could've done that on my laptop, but I was considering canceling my services. They weren't very much, but right now, every penny counted.
By the time I ventured back into the living room I spied my phone lying on the couch. I picked it up and turned it on. I saw that I had two more text messages from Ben and a voicemail. Three text messages from Savannah. I automatically deleted those without reading them. I thought she was being incredibly unfair to me, because as far as I was concerned, what happened was her fault. It wasn't my fault she had been fired. I still couldn't understand what had prompted her to go upstairs with the claim anyway, but it certainly hadn't turned out as she had expected, I'm sure.
Two of the text messages from Ben pretty much reiterated the first one:
You working an extra shift? What happened upstairs? Update?
Maggie, where are you? What’s happening? You okay?
After I read the text messages I listened to the voice mail. It had been left at around midnight.
"Maggie, I haven't heard from you all day. What happened this morning? Do you have news for me?" A pause. "I guess you're working an extra shift. Call me in the morning."
I glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. I decided I'd better call Ben to tell him what happened. I felt a little calmer this morning, a little more in control, but still, that sickening fear and uncertainty that lay heavy in my stomach wanted to surge upward and take over my thoughts. I was hungry, but I didn't want eat anything. I didn't even want any coffee. I was depressed, no two ways about that. Still, I couldn't wallow too long. I had too much to do, and time was of the essence.
I sat down on the couch and dialed Ben’s number. He answered on the second ring.
"Maggie, where have you been? I left a couple of text messages and a voicemail last night."
His voice sounded concerned. "I'm sorry I didn't respond last night," I began. "I turned my phone off after I got home yesterday." I suppose he heard something in my voice, which prompted his next comment.
"Something happened, didn't it?"
I felt a surge of emotion and once again hot tears blurred my vision. I opened my mouth, and then cleared my throat. "Yes, Ben, something happened. I was fired." Silence. I could imagine that his dismay was as strong as mine when I had first heard those words in the boss’s office.
"You were fired?" He asked, stressing the last word. "Why?"
My voice shook. "Apparently, Ben, they were watching you all along. You could say that I got into trouble for not voicing my own suspicions, even though I wasn't even sure if they were suspicions at the time, and I certainly had no proof that you were cheating on anything. Then when Savannah went up and told them, they went back and watched the videos…"
"Maggie, I'm so sorry--"
"Needless to, Savannah and I have both been terminated."
"But why?" Ben asked, disbelieving. "You didn't do anything wrong!"
"The boss doesn't like dealing with drama, or bickering as he called it. I told them that I believed that Savannah had made the accusation against you because she was jealous." I paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Regardless, he said he had more important things to worry about and that dealers and servers were a dime a dozen, so he told me I was fired." Again I paused. "So much for job security huh?"
I was trying to sound like it didn't bother me. On the other end of the line, Ben probably had no concept or idea of how hard it was for me to keep my emotions in check. In fact, I wanted to shout at him, tell him that if he hadn't urged me to go up to the offices, I might, just might, still have my job. Still, by the way if it sounded in the boss’s office yesterday, my time at the casino was doomed. They didn't need any dealers working there that were even by association linked to the potential of cheating.
"Maggie, I--"
"I don't want to talk anymore about it right now, Ben," I said. I realized I was crying again, and I didn't want to lose control.
"Maggie, I'll be right over--"
"No, Ben, this is not your problem. I really don't want to see anyone--"
"You don't really have a choice, Maggie, because I'm coming over. This is all my fault. I'm going to make this up to you, somehow, someway--"
"There's nothing you can do," I said, taking a deep breath. "I just want to be alone today. I have things I need to do… planning, budgeting, and I need to look for a new job." My voice cracked on those last few words. A new job.
"I'm on my way, Maggie. Sit tight. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
After the call disconnected I quickly headed into the bathroom to take a look at myself in the mirror. I still looked awful after a full day and night of crying. I did what I could with makeup, but even though I still had some dark circles under my eyes, the makeup did help to reduce the appearance of my swollen eyes. I still looked pretty awful, at least as far as I was concerned.
I didn't really want to see Ben because I didn't think there was anything he could do about the situation anyway. Way too late for that. While I appreciated his support, it was his doing that had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I didn't get the impression that Ben had understood that his actions could have such serious and long-lasting ramifications. At the same time, he should have been smart enough to know that this could have happened. He couldn't that naïve.
Ben was an experienced gambler and he knew how things worked in the casino. Either his money gave him the impression that nothing would ever touch him, or he had lost touch with reality, at least in regard to people like me; people who worked hard for a living; who relied on their minimum-wage jobs to make ends meet. Ben would never have to worry about making a rent payment, not when he had enough money to live in huge mansions. He would never have to worry about having enough food to eat, clothes to wear, or putting a roof for his head.
Had he lost tou
ch with reality… my reality? Had he lived a privileged life for so many years that he had no concept of how important it was to keep a job, no matter how low paying it was? To Ben, losing my job was probably no big deal, while to me, it was going to turn my world upside down.
I didn't have that feeling of security anymore. Literally, I felt as if I was falling and I had no idea where I was going to land. I wanted to stay in this apartment, but that was another reason why I wanted to get the papers. I would have to downsize, even if it meant venturing into a less safe neighborhood. Did I want to live next to a bunch of crackheads and gang bangers? Heavens no, but unfortunately, my rent was barely enough to keep me out of such neighborhoods.
*
When Ben texted me to let me know that he had arrived at the parking lot downstairs, I thought I had pretty much pulled myself together. I still looked horrid – there was nothing I could do about my red, puffy eyes, although I had managed to brush my hair and put on a little makeup so that I didn't look like a wild woman. Still, I wasn't sure if I even wanted any company. I had a lot of things that I needed to do today, mainly focusing on finding a new job.
Not to mention the fact that in the back of my mind, I believed that all of this was mostly Ben’s fault. I know he hadn't intended any of it to happen, but it had. In a way, deep in the recesses of my mind, I resented him for the fact that he had so much money that he didn't have to worry about the "what ifs." I, on the other hand, always had to be so careful about every decision I made.
