The Gamble: A Novel (29 page)

Luca

I hit the backspace button like a mindless drone.

Everything I do feels mindless. The constant buzz probably helps.

Warren's bedroom opens and he strolls out. To my surprise he flops down on the opposite couch. “Hey.”

I toss my head back at him. “Hey.”

Believe it or not those are the most words we've said since we lost Alexxa. Yeah I say we because she was his best friend too. Maybe that's why he's handling this better than me. Because he
only
lost a friend. Not the only person he'll probably love.

Awkward silence fills the apartment and I return back to the keyboard I was banging on.

“You look like shit.”

Instinctively my hand rubs the scruff on my face. “At least I'm showering now.”

Trust me. Step up from going into work smelling like ass and Shiner.

“Why aren't you at work?”

“Took a few days off to put the final touches on my proposal. I've got a meeting with some investors on Tuesday.”

After giving me advice about Alexxa, my father took the rest of the day off, and we actually spent time together like he had been begging me to do. He told me all about how him and mom originally fell in love the summer before college started, the beginning of their marriage, the horrors I didn't see because she went out of her way to make sure I didn't, which was why the split to me seemed abrupt. We talked about Alexxa until I couldn't fucking stomach it and then about the business he's never bothered truly taking interest in before then. By the end of the conversation, he told me he could arrange a luncheon to give me a chance to pitch to a few potential investors. A couple days later I got a call with a time and date. Been working around the clock to add the finishing touches ever since. It's nice to have something to take the focus off of how much it fucking sucks to feel like I'm completely alone. To feel like I'm the only player left in an empty stadium. Ma says be patient. Give Alexxa a little more time. Problem is I think any more time and she'll start dating again, moving on to some other asshole, and I'll be stuck jerking off to the memory of our first time together. Fuck....yes I still jerk off to it.

“Oh shit,” Warren says with a little excitement in his voice. “That's finally happening?”

“Yeah. My uh...my father arranged it.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Your father?”

“Yeah.”

“As in the man who donated his sperm to create you.”

“That'd be the one.”

Warren makes a hand gesture for an explanation.

I merely shrug. “My relationship with Alexxa isn't the only fucked one I'm trying to cope with.”

We're at least speaking. I don't think she bothers reading the texts or voice mails I leave. Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop leaving them. At least not yet. It is beginning to slide into creepy stalker territory according to this show I binged watched a couple nights ago after finishing a marathon of Drunk History. What's with the smirk? You like that show too?

“And the son finally looks home for answers,” he says in an amused tone.

“Could you not psycho babble at me right now?”

Warren chuckles a little but backs off.

There's another brief pause before I clear my throat to start. “About that day...the um...the one where I punched you-”

“Don't worry about it.” I glance his direction and he shrugs. “Shit happens.”

Silence starts to simmer again.

Firmly he declares, “You know she misses you too. I mean, like you. Not just your dick.”

My face tries to twitch a smile. “I wanna believe that.”

All of a sudden he lets out a deep sigh, “I've seen her. I'd know.”

Fury forces me to scoot to the edge of the couch. “What do you mean you've fucking seen her?”

“What I said.”

“What?” I try to steady my voice. “How? Why? Why the fuck is she willing to see you and not me?”

Warren snips, “Maybe because I'm not the asshole who pretended he was in love with her to fuck her. But that's really just a wild guess.”

“I wasn't fucking pretending,” I bite back. “Nothing about it was fucking pretend!”

“Are you sure?”

“Fucking positive.”

“I don't know, Luca. You're a pretty shady asshole, so that's hard to believe.”

My eyes narrow.

“I mean you turned fucking your best friend,
our
best friend, into a pissing contest because you thought you could get away with it. Because you didn't like that there was some chick out there who didn't fall directly under the Luca Larson spell.”

“That's not it....”

His face scrunches in disbelief.

“Fuck, fine. Maybe at first...Maybe in the beginning it was all about winning.”

“Or maybe that was the excuse you used.”

He's about to go into my head and pull some more Freud shit out, isn't he?

“I don't actually think this was ever about winning something, bro. I think this whole thing revolves around fear. I think part of it was about not wanting to
lose
her. You knew your relationship with Alexxa would have to change because she was leaving you. Walking away and you
feared
if she didn't have a reason to look back she wouldn't. You tried to convince yourself if she had a taste of the one thing that kept every other slut knockin' at our front door for, you would be good. Everything would be
safe
. You didn't wanna risk having another person you care about walk so casually out of your life the way you feel your father did.”

The way my teammates did.

Rather than agreeing, I lean back against the couch.

“So instead telling her how you felt, instead of risking looking
weak
or
needy
which for the record are both human traits we all fucking deal with, you tried to turn it into something you could control. Something you could manipulate. Problem with treating people that way, Luca, is there's no fucking guarantee what they're going to do.” All of a sudden excitement dances through his eyes and he sits up. “That's the beauty of humanity. We have these patterns and boundaries and psychological bullshit that pushes us into routines, yet we're so unpredictable they have to be
theories
instead of
laws
. My point is-”

“Oh there is a point.”

He glares and grunts, “
My point is
Alexxa isn't a sport with precise rules and regulations. There is not an exact way to constantly win or lose. She's a human being and the minute you can make her see you understand that, well...that's the moment you get another chance with her.”

So my parents are right. There's still hope. It might be beer pong ball sized, but that's fucking better than nothing.

Feeling a weight shift on my shoulders, I ask, “How is she?”

“Not
openly
as miserable as you, but...it comes in waves.”

I nod my sympathy.

“Don't bother asking me to put in a good word for you. I swore when she started talking to me, I wouldn't do that.”

Well there goes that idea.

Immediately sensing my apprehension coming back he adds, “But she does miss the hell out of you, bro. The shade of red on her toes tells the world so.”

My favorite. Manchester United red. If you're not a Manc you're a wank.

I attempt another smile as the information gets my mind whirling with ideas. “Can't put in a good word for me but can you make a delivery?”

Warren shoots me a curious look. “What do you have in mind?”

“A momentary replacement.”

His confusion just makes it all the better. “I gotta shower and go grab it.”

“Do you mean whack it?”

I lightly laugh. “Not this time. I'm starting to get callouses on my fucking hands. How the hell do you live like this?”

“Lotion,” he answers on a short chuckle. “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again...”

“Who's hosing you?”

Warren lets out a defeated sigh, “I meant it like if I don't use lotion, shower water works too. You know, in reference to what the quote is discussing. Keeping everything moist one way or another...”

I shake my head. “I'm locking my door tonight.”

“You should lock your door every night. No one wants to see that shit....”

The two of us laugh again and I hustle towards my bedroom with a perfect play beginning to come together in my head.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I know she's not a sport and I can't treat her like one, but it doesn't mean I can't come up with creative ways to show her how much I fucking love her. It might be tricky from a distance, but you know me. I'm always up for a challenge. I'm not a quitter.

Alexxa

“Her mother let her go out for the part and she nailed it!” Ken exclaims from the other end of speaker phone. “Called and offered her the role at the end of the day.”

“That's amazing,” I reply continuing to type.

“You are making this whole thing run so much smoother than Betty ever could.”

The compliment makes me smile proudly.

Turns out I'm even better at this than I thought I would be. It's not rocket science, but there is a certain method you have to develop. Pushy parents accept the best parts for their children but tend to have more prudish tendencies believe it or not. It becomes about finding the right phrasing to either convince them to loosen the reigns on that or enjoy the shadows of the limelight with local commercials. I simply plant the seeds of doubt and they water them all on their own. As far as their kids typically go, little subtle reminders of confidence is all they really need.

“Bonus,” he declares loudly. “I'm a man of my word. And a celebratory dinner! Bring a friend or your boyfriend or a sister, hell bring whoever you want! On me. But not tonight. I've got a date with a very kinky flight attendant and a bottle of wine. You make reservations for wherever you want next week and we'll go.”

I click send. “Sounds like a great idea. I'll get on that as soon as I'm finished answering these emails. Anything else?”

“You booked us for lunch with the Robinsons right?”

“Monday morning. 11 a.m.”

“My own personal superstar,” Ken chuckles. “Alright. Have to go.”

Without an actual goodbye he ends the call leaving me to finish the few items left on my list before I'm officially off for the day.

I'd rather not spend my Friday night working if I can avoid it. It's bad enough I have to re-read a script for the millionth time on Sunday, I would at least like a couple days of peace if possible. And before you bother asking if it's
that
bad, it is. It's like Big Daddy with a heavy female cast and the child swearing profusely. I think it would be hilarious. However trying to convince mothers to let their eight- year- old say fuck ten times won't exactly be easy.

The knock on the door catches me off guard. Hopping up from the seat at the dining room table, which is in a nook right around the corner from the door, I quickly answer it.

Warren tries to smile but struggles due to the small yellow lab licking his face.

“Aww,” I coo and reach for the pup. “Look at you!” The tiny dog happily switches to my arms and begins to repeat the process. “What a sweet puppy!”

“You say that until she pisses in your car,” he grumbles. Warren swoops up a bag of supplies and a small crate. “Where do you want this?”

Now baffled, but still slightly distracted by the precious creature resting its head on my shoulder, I fumble to question, “Want what? Am I dog sitting? Why did you get a dog?
When
did you get a dog? Is this some weird part of your paper?”

Dragging the objects inside he sighs, “I didn't.
You
did.”

“What?” I shut the door just as he drops the items in the living room. “What the hell do you mean
I
did?”

“I mean,” he lets out another huff at the same time the bag hits the ground. “That adorable little thing is yours. There's a starter crate here, training pads, some toys, water bowl, food bowl, a starter bag of food....” His ramblings continue while he digs around in the over sized luggage, “Few treats. Proof of shots up to date. Name of vet-”

“Hold. The. Fuck. Up.” After adjusting the puppy in my arms who was starting to sleep, I snap, “I didn't order a dog.”

He stands up with a smile. “Luca did.”

“Then take him-”

“Her.”

“
Her
back to
him
.”

The cocky smirk, which at this very moment resembles his best friend's, expands. “No.”

“No?”

“No. You don't want the dog? Fine. All you have to do is call him and he'll come pick her up.”

Call him. All I have to do is call him....or text him...reach out and communicate with him. Clever fucking bastard.

“I could always just drop the dog at the shelter.”

“You won't.”

Damn it, he's right. And Luca knew that when he devised this plan I'm sure. He knows how much I hate seeing dogs there let alone leaving one there. Not to mention I've wanted a dog for years and now not only
can
I have one, I actually do have one. I hate him.

“I get it. In order to get rid of her, I give him what he wants, to talk to me-”

“To hear your voice.”

Don't awe right now!

“I could just send a text.”

“Not sure he thought about that one.”

“Either way. I get it, but if I keep her, I don't have to talk to him. You just told me all her information is left in the bag.”

He slides a hand in his board shorts pocket. “Right.”

“Then how does he win that way?”

“You'll have something to remind you of him.”

Bastard. Hate him even more.

“To remind you he did fucking care at some point. To remind you he
still
cares. To remind you that even if you never see him again, he doesn't want you to be alone and miserable. He wants you to have some sort of happiness.”

I let out a small awe. The pup licks my face in retaliation.

What the hell? Did he convince her to love him first?

“He also wants you to be protected. She's a lab and German Shepard mix, so she'll be smart and fierce. There's also a training class schedule in her folder.”

Another wave of disbelief causes me to shake my head. “You were in on this weren't you?”

“I...I...merely picked out the fancy fetch toy.”

“Fetch toy?”

“Yeah! It's this cool thing you can fling a really far distance. Figured it might be fun when we take her to the beach or maybe even the lake.”

I lift an eyebrow. “We?”

He tries to hide his excitement.

“And by we, you mean all three of us, don't you?”

“I'm hoping for four.” He shows crossed fingers. “There's this chick where I'm doing my internship who's really hot.”

Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, I rub the yellow puppy's tummy. “What am I gonna call you?”

“She has a name,” he says. “Check her collar.”

I run my finger along the red material to inspect the dangling tag. “Dandelion 'Dandy'  Larson.”

My eyes steal another glance of a beaming Warren before giving the dog a kiss on the nose.

He didn't have to give it
his
last name. Geez. Okay so maybe, Warren isn't the only one who wants it to be the four of us playing with the pup by the water. Maybe I do miss him more and more every day as opposed to less. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad to talk to him. To finally yell and scream and knee him in the nuts to properly express how shitty everything felt from my end. What?! You don't think a kick to the gnads is the right way to go? But he would completely associate pain of hurting me with pain of me hurting him. See...No? Well pitch me some ideas. We've got a little time before I see him again.