Tricks. Part 38

I've tried to keep the bets reasonable, but the problem with winning is, once you've got a bigger bankroll, you want to make bigger bets. Got a whopper riding this week. Enough to let me skip a couple of "dates,"

if my luck holds. I have been smart enough to pay my car insurance for six months, help Mom with the power and phone. She thinks I'm working at a temp service too.

Since they place you in jobs temporarily, according to different businesses' need, it provides the perfect excuse for sometimes having money, sometimes not.

For being away from home odd hours. And, since those jobs tend to be manual labor, Mom doesn't ask why I so often plunge straight into the shower after coming through the door.

On a Positive Note I've managed to make small credit card payments. Not enough to pay down the princ.i.p.al, but enough to cover the interest, anyway. Only one problem. As had to happen, I couldn't keep intercepting the bills.

Mom called me into the kitchen. Cody, what are all these charges to Int-Gam, Inc.? She stood there, hands on hips, waiting for my confession. How could I tell her "Int-Gam, Inc."

was Internet Gaming Incorporated, and that I had been using the cards for months, losing money hand over fist? "I'm not sure, Mom," I lied, looking her straight in the eye.

"But just so you know, I found those credit cards in Cory's things."

I can't believe what a liar I've become, and lying about Cory was a way low blow. But she bought it. Why not?

Her youngest son is a criminal.

Not much of a stretch to think that he might also be a thief.

Credit Cards No longer being an option, sports bets will have to be laid down through local bookies. Vince knows one or two. And there's always poker.

Hey, I've got a stake-a few hun saved up. Anyway, I've got spending cash, thanks to Lydia. Mostly it's from men. Thank G.o.d, I haven't had too many experiences similar to the one with crew-cut Dan. I can't seem to excise that night completely from my head.

I've questioned a lot of things about myself before. The gambling. Booze.

Drugs. Lying. But, despite sleeping with men for money, I've never questioned my s.e.xuality. That's the core of any man, any person.

How can I be unsure of that, especially considering the pain and humiliation?

Maybe Lydia was right, and we all swing both ways to some degree. It's all according to necessity, she said.

Does that mean if every woman disappeared, I'd actively crave men?

Not Craving Any Of the guys at Vince's tonight.

I glance from face to face, chest to chest. Nope. Not a single twitch.

Maybe there's hope for me after all.

Now if Lady Luck will just decide to climb into my lap, hang out.

Hey, says Vince. Anyone bring smoke? He looks straight at me, not expecting me to say yes. It's been weeks since I had enough cash to score. My connection had almost given up on me too.

I surprised him, and I surprise Vince now. "Actually, yeah, I do."

I hand over a couple of big blunts, light another, pa.s.s it on. Only way to convince Vince to introduce me to his bookie friends is with generosity.

Meanwhile, it's poker. The key to winning this game is properly a.s.sessing the compet.i.tion. I know most of the guys at the table-Vince, best player here, a regular bluff master, not afraid to lay down a major bet.

Justin is an elementary school janitor.

Can't afford to bet big. Never ups the ante.

Sitting down is Shaun, UNR freshman, innocent-looking, but knows how to bet.

Finally, there's Misty's boyfriend, Chris. He's a total jerk, and wasted.

A fair bit of c.o.ke has been pa.s.sed around, but I'm guessing he's been smoking ice. Maybe even crashing, despite the cola. His mood is mean.

f.u.c.king deal already, would you? Haven't got all night.

Vince stares him down, trying to decide, no doubt, if he's going to have to deal with Chris some way other than nicely. He starts with nice. Take it easy, man.

Where you have to be, anyway?

Chris grabs the cards, now in a pile in front of him. He sorts them one way, then another, shoots eyeball arrows around the table as if we're all just waiting to give our hands away. Got a date with Misty.

Fact Is I've got a date with Misty. Well, not with her, exactly. We both have a date with some s.e.xually confused out-of-towner. Three-ways aren't quite so bad. Misty isn't the brightest girl. But she's got a killer bod to focus on. It's okay to be turned on by that.

The evening's little snort party will help me out too. In fact, we might even have fun. But, far as I know, Chris isn't coming along. "You sure you're hooking up with Misty tonight?"

The table falls silent. Not even a minimal buzz as Chris gives me an odd look. That's what I said.

Why? You know something I don't? He throws three cards on the table. Waits for more.

And also for my answer. "Uh.

It's just I thought she had to work tonight. You know. For Lydia."

I draw two cards. Dig way down for composure. Lady Luck is definitely rock 'n' rolling with me. Full house.

Chris doesn't respond. For some reason, that bothers me a lot. I look over at him and he's staring at me, head tipped as if listening to some- thing no one else can hear. Little voices in his head? Schizo, too?

It's all lost on Vince, who draws last. One card .... C'mon, Lady, don't trade partners now! His face gives nothing away. But when he bets, we all gulp in breaths.

He tosses some chips. A hundred.

Justin folds. Shaun considers quite a while, finally calls. Chris swears softly, breaks out in a sweat, trying to figure out if Vince is bluffing, decides he must be. He calls. I call.

We show our cards. My full house wins the pot! Six-fifty! Oh, yeah.

Lady and I are doing a full-on mosh now. One thing I've managed to learn, "Thanks so much, gentlemen, but it's time for me to go." It is time, in fact. My date is in twenty minutes.

Hot d.a.m.n I am feeling good. I stop at the bank, make two deposits. Into my account.

Into Mom's account. Not much, but enough to help out a little. I'd cancel my three-way, but I promised I'd do it. Lydia is expecting me to. And so is Misty. Who I really want to see right now is Ronnie. First time in a long time I'm feeling the need for a long, healthy roll in the hay.

I give her a call, half expecting her to be out with somebody else.

But she answers immediately.

h.e.l.lo? Oh G.o.d! The sound of her husky voice lifts me even higher. Uh, h.e.l.lo? Is somebody there? When I let her know it's me, she is standoffish at first.

"You can be mad at me. I deserve it. But Ronnie, I swear, I'm so sorry for pushing you away lately. Things have been .... uh, bad. We can talk about that later. I get off in an hour and a half. I know that's pretty late...."

Zero hesitation. No! Come over.

I'll stay up, however long it takes you to get here. She pauses, and I can imagine her voice growing thick in her throat. G.o.dd.a.m.n you, Cody, she sputters. What took so long?

I haven't cried in a long while, not since I mostly got over Jack.

I pretty much thought my tear machine was broken for good.

But no. I can barely choke out, "I don't know. But I do know I love you. See you in a little while."

I can't get her off my mind as I drive to the address Lydia gave me. I feel awful. Feel wonderful. And for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. A few more dates, a couple of big wins, I'll get out of this business for good. I'll find a real job. Put money away. Help Mom somehow. Stay in school, work my a.s.s off and get into college. Oh, there's the motel. First things first.

I'm a Little Late Usually Misty waits for me and we go in together. Guess she didn't want the guy to think we weren't coming.

I check the room number. Twice.

One time I knocked on the wrong door. Was that guy ever surprised!

This time when I knock, Misty calls, Come on in, baby. I do, find her already mostly naked. The guy, who's a totally forgettable middle-aged nothing, is completely naked.

Jeez, man. I'm only five minutes late.

The dude, who isn't much down there either, despite it being at full mast, turns his attention away from from Misty, focuses on me. What are you waiting for? Time is money, you know. Like it's going to take him much time at all. But whatever. It is his money. And less time is better.

Misty distracts him with her yummy b.o.o.bs and I start to pull my T-shirt over my head. Suddenly the door explodes behind me. What the .... ?

Something-bear or bulldozer- knocks me face forward to the floor, forcing my breath into the carpet.

Misty screams and Nothing Man yells, What the f.u.c.k, as my right kidney takes two ma.s.sive punches.

My shirt is still over my head and I can't see a d.a.m.n thing as I fight for air. But I hear crack-crack-crack.

And the room goes silent, except for strained breathing, right above me. And then I hear .... sobbing.

You f.u.c.king wh.o.r.e. It is Chris's voice.

You promised .... no more .... you said .... and you .... he means me.

His boot takes out two ribs. Oh my G.o.d. Is he going to kill me?

Jack! Didn't mean it. Don't want ....

Snap!Lightning? White-hot. Electric.

Shattering. My back. Pieces. Bone.

Dark. Darker. Cut through the black, blinding light. What? Buzzing. What?

Suck air. Where? Can't .... No, please.

Ronnie? Sorry. So sorry. Ron ....

Light Floats Just beyond my eyelids. I want to open them, see the light, but the darkness is comforting. Not much here. Beyond the nothing (nothing? Nothing. Nothing Man?), something. A hum. A whisper.

Wake up. Can you wake up for me?

Motion. All around me, movement.

Pressure. Wrapping me. Pressure.

Air. Saccharine air, pumping into my lungs, through .... plastic.

Plastic? My eyelids stutter. Light!

Sunlight. I am outside. Can't move.

Tied? Strapped. Strapped to a gurney.

Parking lot. Red and blue lights.

Oh my G.o.d. I remember. I roll my head, see another gurney. "Misty?" A cloth covers her face. "No." It is a whisper.

Best I can do. A second gurney carries another still figure. Nothing Man. Gone. Both of them gone.

But I am still here. "Thank you, Jack."

A paramedic asks what I said. "Phone,"

I tell him. "Call Mom. And Ronnie."

A Poem by Eden Streit Still Here At least I think so, what's left of who I used to be a shadow on the sidewalk.

I look up, try to find a rainbow, but the only thing there is a lone cloud, stretching thin and thinner, clear to almost not there, across an upside-down sea.

I lower my gaze into a puddle, close my eyes at what I see.

Don't want to believe that ghost is me.

Eden