Losing Streak (The Lane) (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Things were different after that. Not a lot, but different. Enough that I could almost breathe properly, and I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. Hell, I forgot that I’d even known what that felt like. It was as if I hadn’t noticed the lack of oxygen until there was a normal amount of it.

Brandon helped out as much as I would let him, which wasn’t as much as he wanted to but as much as I felt comfortable with. How could I let him shoulder any substantial amount of our problems when I couldn’t bring myself to introduce him to the very people he was helping? I still hadn’t even told Mama or Jackson about him. I still couldn’t do it. Brandon never pushed either. Not for that. Never for that. Only to help more. No catch. It seemed like he was the first person who’d ever said that and actually meant it.

Just having someone willing to share the burden was a relief, even if it did feel weird.

Mama ended up spending four days in the hospital. The bill was staggering and made me want to burn things. Brandon paid nearly half of it with his win from one fight and promised to pay the rest with the money from the next one. The transmission on the Lumina gave out and Brandon bought a new one, leaving only the labor for me to cover. I stopped protesting. I stopped fighting. Mama was still sick, and Jackson was still oblivious to everything but his own life like Mama wanted, but for once I wasn’t sinking. Not the way I had been.

But I was still angry. I think that was just me. Maybe it’d always been me. Maybe Jackson had been born smiling and I’d been born pissed off at everything. Maybe that would never change.

Because even with Brandon’s help—so much more than I’d ever had before, more than I probably deserved—the unfairness of everything got to me. Mama was still sick. The apartment with Jackson and Bri was cramped and dark and loud, the noise from the neighbors so overwhelming that it was as if they were our roommates too. Mama’s tinier place always smelled like vomit. The refrigerators that were my job to fill were still mostly empty. My gas tank was never above half full.

And Duke’s. God, I hated Duke’s the most. The overpriced drinks and the demanding, ungrateful bastards who ordered them with impatient sighs and half-assed tips.

I’d say later it was the way some asshole tried to look down my shirt, but it was the sad dollar tip that set me off one Thursday night. Jackson would back me up on that to the others, but I’d caught him giving me the side-eye when he didn’t think anyone was looking. The fact was, one minute I was serving someone and the next I’d dragged him halfway across the bar. For the first time that I could ever recall, it was Mike who had to pull me away and pin my arms to my sides to keep me from trying to reach back out for him. Even through the haze, I could see the guy’s startled expression, feel Mike’s bewilderment, and they should have been enough to calm me down, but they did nothing but somehow make me angrier.

“Rosemary, could you step into my office? Immediately?”

The entire bar around me went quiet, even the patrons. Mike’s hands on my arms went slack for a moment, before hurriedly retightening their grip, as if he was afraid I’d still lash out. But that voice, that request, was enough to quiet the beast in me, even if for only a minute. Jackson took a step in my direction and opened his mouth, as if to speak up, maybe to protest. I shook Mike off and swung in Jackson’s direction, cutting a look at him and freezing him in his tracks before turning back toward Joshua.

“Right.” I nodded, my voice strained. “Absolutely.”

“Rose—” Jackson started just as Joshua turned back to his office, clearly intending for me to follow him. Possibly with an escort.

“No.” I pointed my finger sternly at him, trying my best to ignore the fact that we had the entire bar’s attention. I wanted to snarl at the onlookers, even as my heart thudded painfully. “You stay right where you are, Jackson Young. You don’t utter so much as a word in my defense, you understand me?”

“But—”

“Do you understand me?”

He nodded, an almost petulant look on his face, and I gave him a grim smile.

Eyes were still on me, watching intently. So many eyes. Almost everyone was watching, riveted to the show before them. I wasn’t stupid. I knew some of them were hoping this was it for me. That I’d finally abused my last patron. Some didn’t care either way, but they were drawn to the potential drama just the same. People liked a show and that was what this was to them. Nothing more than a real-life drama played out in front of them where they had prime seats.

As I made my way toward the office, Mike trailing behind me, I was careful to make eye contact with as many of them as I could, for no other reason than to watch them squirm.

Joshua was waiting for me just inside the door. Without a word, he held out a hand, indicating the seat opposite his desk. I cringed and moved around him, dropping down into it with a sigh and crossing my legs as he took the chair across from me. Seconds ticked by as we stared at each other.

At first glance, Joshua King wasn’t an entirely bad-looking man. Because when you first glanced at Joshua, you saw his designer suits, perfectly tailored for his frame, his impeccably shined shoes and the occasional flash of his cuff links. You didn’t see
him.
You saw his things. You saw the money he so obviously had.

It was on closer inspection that you were able to see past the flawless outer packaging. The too-thin hair, the skin a little too pale to be considered porcelain. His lips were too small and his jaw was weak and his nose was nearly too big for his face. He had broad shoulders and thick, powerful arms, but a soft waist. Combined, it gave him an unbalanced look, as if he’d been given spare parts rather than custom ones when he was designed.

He broke the heavy silence first with a slight shake of his head. “I’m not entirely sure what to do with you sometimes, Rosemary.”

He was the only one to ever call me that. I kinda liked it, my Christian name. Maybe because I so rarely heard it. It put me in mind of designer purses and expensive heels, rather than the secondhand life I’d always known.

“You’re not the first to say that. It’s a pretty popular sentiment actually.”

“I imagine so. Tell me, what are we going to do about that temper of yours?”

Ignore it
, I wanted to say.
Pretend like you don’t see it at all and let me continue to do as I please without consequence.

“I’m working on it,” I replied instead. “It’s much better these days, in fact. Yoga, mostly. A lot of yoga.”

A smile, slight but genuinely amused, teased at his lips.

“I doubt that but I’m willing to let this incident slide.”

A relieved breath escaped my lungs in a whoosh.

“On one condition,” he continued and my heart stuttered.

Conditions. Of course. Always conditions and catches. No way would I ever be lucky enough for anything else.

“What’s that?”

“Try to at least play nice with the customers.” He winked at me, his nearly translucent eyelashes putting me in mind of a Venus flytrap. “I know, I know. They can be absolutely infuriating, can’t they? People want so much but expect to pay so little to receive it. They’re an ungrateful, miserable lot and can be an absolute nightmare to work with. I understand sometimes it seems that a strong hand is needed when dealing with them. I understand the temptation there. But you must try to fight it.” He smiled and nodded toward the door, telling me I could go.

I stood slowly.

“That’s it? Really? Just, try to do better? I mean, you’re not going to, I don’t know, change your mind or something later?”

“That’s it. I am a lot of things. Indecisive isn’t one of them.” He tilted his head, studying me for a minute. “I believe we have a lot in common, Rosemary. I had my—issues with anger as well at one time, you know. Stuff that stemmed from my parents and the situation we were in when I was much younger. I learned to harness it, though. Use it as a motivator. It worked out quite well for me. Perhaps you should try to do the same. Use it as a tool, not as a sword.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” I nodded as though what he’d said had made a bit of sense. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try that.”

“Good, good. You know. I see myself in you sometimes. I can see it so very clearly.” He continued to stare at me, almost as if I were some kind of puzzle he was trying to work out and something about that calculating look made the skin on the back of my neck prickle with unease. Finally, he clapped his hands together once. “Right, then. Off you go.”

I got out of there quickly, still not entirely convinced he wouldn’t do an about-face. Unspoken agreements or not, breaks such as the one he had just given me were for other people. They didn’t happen for me or mine. More likely, a noose was already looped around my neck and he was doling out the rope a little at a time for me to hang myself. To what end, I wasn’t sure, but if I knew anything, it was that there was always a catch.

Sometimes it just took a while to see it.

Chapter Eight

Mama used to tell me that nothing in life was built to last. There was a season for everything, she’d say. A time to live and a time to die. A time to laugh and a time to cry. It was supposed to be uplifting, I think. A way to remind me that the bad times weren’t forever. They hadn’t been built to last.

The whole concept left me with a tight-chested kind of anxiety instead. Because while they were few and far between, there were good times. Okay, there were all right times. Times when Mama didn’t need to hide how tired she was. When she got more hours at work and our cupboards weren’t almost bare. Those stretches were almost okay, or as okay as we were permitted to know. But I couldn’t enjoy them when they did occur. I was never able to get entirely comfortable. I’d look over my shoulder, waiting for the moment everything fell apart again because it always did. That was the worst part. Never, for one moment, feeling safe enough to breathe.

But in those few weeks with Brandon helping me shoulder the burden of simply living, I managed to forget what a lifetime of existing had taught me. In the midst of everything, I somehow forgot there were seasons and that life was built on sand. I forgot that I’d been born under faulty, crooked stars and I wasn’t a master of anything, let alone my fate. I took deep breaths and forgot that the tide always returned. I forgot that if I wasn’t careful, if I wasn’t on guard, it would catch me with my mouth open.

I had a couple hours to kill before work, and because Brandon had been invited to an early fight, I decided to go to Mama’s so I’d be free after my shift was over. I stood in her cramped kitchen, clutching the grimy, stained countertop, and tried to ignore her raspy, labored breathing coming from the next room. A cold, Dr. Shallaby had said. We’d keep a close eye on it. But it wasn’t the cold that put the look of concern on his face when he told me. It was her kidneys and the fact they were working at only seventeen percent. They’d been on a slow decline for months now, enough that he’d been keeping a close eye on them but nothing that required immediate attention. Apparently they had decided to give up all at once. She was going to need outpatient dialysis until further notice, her first appointment being in two days. If that percentage went any lower, she’d need to be admitted.

I jumped when my phone rang out, shrill in the almost silence, and snatched it up before it could wake Mama. She needed to sleep. The bags under her eyes were worse than mine.

Brandon was talking before I managed to get out a greeting.

“Babe? Fuck, babe. Fuck.” There was a frantic edge to his voice, and still I didn’t remember. I didn’t stop and have that chest-tightening moment of, “Oh God. This is it. Everything has fallen apart yet again.”

“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. Damn it all, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—fuck. I shouldn’t have called. Damn it. Why did I call you? Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.”

I crossed the scratched tile and peeked around the corner at Mama. She was still asleep, but it was light. Uneasy. Her mouth was pulled down into a frown.

“Tell me,” I whispered, backing away. “Just tell me.”

“He lost! Ah, shit. Damn it. Turner never loses, he’s never once lost, but damn it, he did tonight and I’m fucked, babe. I am so incredibly fucked right now.”

I wanted, desperately, to be ignorant enough to be able to ask, “Who?” I wanted a moment of the bliss that came with ignorance, instead of the sudden and instantaneous sinking, the shoulder-slumping dread that filled me.

“Shit.” I drew the word out in a low voice and Brandon laughed humorlessly in my ear.

“Yeah. That.”

“How much?” I was already adding in my head, calculating on that mental spreadsheet I hadn’t quite packed away.

“God. God, you don’t want to know. You do not want to know.”

“Shit,” I repeated.

“Isn’t even the half of it.”

“What do we do?”

“We don’t do anything. I—look, babe. This is all me, okay? This is me. You are not going to take this on. I’ll—I’m gonna have to talk to someone. The bookie. Maybe—fuck. Fuck. I don’t know.”

“Do they do payment arrangements? Can you do that?” Then I winced, thinking about the remaining balance of Mama’s last hospital bill and the potential one hanging over my shoulder, and my heart gave a funny lurch. Payment arrangements. There’d be a lot of those for us now.

“I don’t—No. I don’t know. I’ve never lost. Not once. I always bet on Turner and he never lost, which meant I never lost. Fuck.” He took a ragged breath. “Listen, I’ll call you later, okay? Don’t worry about this. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay. Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

“No. Hell, no. Stay there. I’m gonna go to N—to the bookie. I’m gonna go there now and I don’t want you near that shit, okay? I’ve heard—it can get ugly. I don’t think it will. Could just be talk. But stay there or go home. Just stay somewhere safe for now until I know how this is gonna play out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded as though he could see me. “Let me know, okay? Just...” I trailed off, a lump lodging in my throat that was hard to speak around. “Don’t leave me wondering. Let me know something.”

“I will. It will be okay, babe, all right? Just—look, don’t go to work until I say so, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I go to work?”

“It might be nothing. I—fuck. I don’t know, okay? Could be I’m being paranoid. But I’d feel better if you were safe.”

“Brandon, I can’t—”

“Just listen to me, okay?” he said sharply before his voice softened a fraction of an inch, yet still held a rough edge to it. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I promise. It’s gonna be fine.”

I gave him a look he couldn’t see. He might have believed that, but I didn’t. Not for a second. I felt the water already filling my lungs.

An hour later, my phone beeped from my lap, and I snatched it up with shaky hands.

All
good
.
Stay
where
u
r
.
Don’t
go
2
work
.

I normally would have gritted my teeth at the text-speak, but I was too relieved for some kind of answer from him to care.

Even if he was replacing numbers for letters.

I couldn’t stay here. There were bills solely on me again and I could already feel their weight. Missed hours were money lost and that wasn’t an option. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. I wasn’t going to add anything else on him when he was already clearly dealing with enough. He’d said it himself, anyway. He was probably being paranoid. Besides, there was a very real possibility that he’d need my help now too.

Call
me
later
?

Yeah
.

But he hadn’t by the time I had to clock in, though he did send another text telling me again to call off sick that I ignored.

The night slipped past without incident. I even served more than my fair share of drinks, if only to help battle the growing alarm that built up with every minute that passed without hearing from him.

Toward the end of the night, Bri sidled up to me with a grimace marring her face.

“Heads up.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Big J is here.”

“Yeah? What are you telling me for?”

“He’s asking about you. I heard him and Jared talking when I went to grab more napkins from the back.” She shot me a grin. “Probably making sure you didn’t try to kill anyone tonight.”

Leave it to Bri to make that sound admirable.

I didn’t have to wonder at it for long, though. No sooner had the last patron filed out the door than Joshua emerged from his office. He didn’t even pretend to be interested in anything else. His eyes immediately latched on to mine from across the room and he beckoned me with a quick jerk of a nod.

Son of a bitch.

Without glancing at anyone else—and I knew Jackson, at least, was watching—I slung the rag I’d been using on the bar and stepped out from behind it, head high. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not tonight. I had no reason to fear what waited me back there.

He was waiting for me just inside the door. This time he didn’t offer me a seat, but I took one anyway. My mind was racing, a million excuses dancing around on the tip of my tongue, but I held them there with the brute force of my pride. If he’d changed his mind after all, I wouldn’t beg until absolutely necessary. I couldn’t lose this job, not now. I couldn’t afford the time it would take to find another one. But I wouldn’t beg or make any kind of promises until I knew exactly what was at stake.

Even the desperate had to play smart. Hell. The desperate had to play smarter than anyone else.

A thick wall of silence stretched out between us as Joshua closed the door with a soft click and made his way over to his desk. He settled himself in his chair and fixed his pale gaze on mine.

“We have a situation,” he said gravely, causing my heart to plummet to my feet only to crawl frantically into my throat.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to arch an eyebrow.

“Do we?”

“Unfortunately.” He crossed his hands on the desk in front of him. They looked softer neater than my own. As if, perhaps, he received regular manicures.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to elaborate.”

He gave me an approving grin, as if he had a script in his mind and I had followed it. The thought left me with the desire to somehow snatch the words back and cradle them close to my chest.

“It would seem that your friend, Mr. Williams, has found himself in a bit of a predicament.”

My mouth went instantly dry.

“I don’t know—”

“Come now, Rosemary, surely you won’t play dumb with me. I understand keeping mum around your loved ones. Absolutely. Your mother especially has high hopes for you, am I correct?”

“Well, yes—”

“Of course she does.” He cut me off with a firm nod. “Wants better for her children. And who can blame her? She’s had a rough go of things from the way I understand it. Fell too soon, too young, and with the wrong type of man, didn’t she? Love is blind, after all, but debt collectors unfortunately are not. But with me, there’s no need for such games.”

“How did you even know?” I felt the corners of my eyes crinkle with suspicion. “We don’t advertise it.”

“You mean you hide it.”

I lifted a shoulder in a one-armed shrug. “That too.”

He chucked low in his throat. “I know a lot of things. You could almost say it’s my business to know things that others don’t.”

I frowned and sat back in my chair, partly to hide the adrenaline-induced trembling that was working its way into my limbs.

“Kinda vague, maybe a little ominous, but okay. I’m still not sure why you needed to talk to me.”

He watched me carefully, as if waiting for something. As if there was some kind of sign I was supposed to give him, a cue. Finally he sighed as though he was disappointed.

“As I was saying, Mr. Williams is in a bit of a fix, financially. And most unfortunate for all involved, he lacks the means necessary to pay it.”

I shook my head. “Still not following.”

“Brandon Williams has acquired a rather large debt. Fortunately for him, I have agreed to let him work it off.”

I sat forward quickly, startled.

“Wait. You—”

“Yes, Rosemary. Me. Mr. Williams owes that money to me. Seventy-five thousand dollars to be exact.”

“But he never—I didn’t...” I stammered before trailing off uselessly, my stomach twisting around the words
seventy-five thousand.
I jerked my eyes away from Joshua’s and glanced around the nearly bare office, as though there would be something hiding somewhere that would help me make sense of what I was hearing.

“He didn’t tell you,” he supplied for me after a minute and I nodded, a little jerkily, mind still racing. Suddenly Brandon’s insistence about me not going to work made sense.

“I’d wondered,” Joshua continued. “Most people who find out I run—extra activities tend to act differently around me. I found it refreshing that you had not. I’d wondered, perhaps, if you were more enlightened than most. Lacked that nagging misguided conscience most others are cursed with that causes them to see the world in such rigid shades of black and white.”

“I don’t,” I said automatically. “I mean, the world’s a weird place. Life is weird. There’s a lot of gray.”

He hummed in approval. The sound, inexplicably, set me on edge.

“I’m glad to hear it. I take it, then, you approve of Mr. Williams’s gambling habits?”

“I don’t disapprove of them. That’s his thing. Which is why I’m confused as to why you’re telling me all of this. I’m not involved in that part of his life. He won’t let me be.”

“No? Interesting. I was under the impression that you two are quite close.”

“We are. But there’s certain things—” I bit my lip to keep from explaining. “I have my life and he has his. That’s part of his.”

“Perhaps not for long,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry?”

He sat back, eyes never wavering from my face and I felt my skin grow tighter, more uncomfortable, under the weight of them. “As I said, Mr. Williams will be working off his debt with me. I do that occasionally. I’m not an unreasonable man. The problem is Mr. Williams has nothing of value to offer as collateral. Reasonable or not, collateral is something I insist on. I’m afraid I’m quite unyielding on that.”

Things were starting to click into place.

“I have nothing.”

Joshua gave me a sardonic smile. “Ah, you and Mr. Williams. You both think so similarly. Collateral doesn’t need to be a material possession. It merely has to be something of value. Something to ensure that Mr. Williams doesn’t run before his debt is paid off.” His grin grew and I was reminded of a wolf sizing up a sacrificial lamb. “It can even be a person.”

Immediately I was on my feet.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You won’t even hear what I’m offering then?”

I jabbed a finger in his direction.

“I have no problems helping Brandon pay off what he owes you. I’ll work extra hours here at Duke’s for free if that’s what you want. But I am not a thing. I’m not a possession. I’m not being relegated as one.” I shook my head, my curls bouncing with the force of it, and turned to go.