Chapter 16 Ace
Ace
Fun Fact: Pay phones are almost non-existent nowadays. However, Dottie is a gem and hasn’t renovated her diner in almost forty years, which means I’m still in luck.
Rushing into my home away from home, I slide my hand into my pocket in search of change before putting the quarters into the phone and dialing Kingston’s number.
“Ace! I’m over here!” Gigi calls, waving her hands up in the air.
I lift my forefinger to motion for her to give me a second.
With pinched brows, a confused Gigi slides back into her seat, waiting for me to finish whatever I’m up to. I’m sure she’ll interrogate me in a minute, but I’ll deal with that later.
The ringing stops echoing through the earpiece, and I wait to see if he’s answered. “Yeah?” a voice barks on the other end.
“Um, hey.” The diner is practically empty at this time of night, but it doesn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder while remembering my rules. I can’t believe I’m actually calling him.
There’s a soft rustling on the other end of the line before Kingston murmurs, “Ace?”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“You okay?” His tone is softer now––or maybe I’m imagining things––but the sound of his voice doesn’t stop my heart from racing.
“Yeah,” I whisper before twisting my finger around the phone’s cord and scanning the empty diner for the thousandth time. “I just wanted to tell you—”
“Shh,” he interrupts. “I’ll meet you tonight.”
Meet? Again?
There’s a heady pause as an angel and a demon on my shoulders give their arguments for whether or not this is a good idea. Maybe some distance would be a good thing. When I’m around Kingston, he tugs the control from my grasp whether I want him to or not.
Blowing out a slow breath, I mutter, “I don’t think that’s––”
“It wasn’t a question, Ace.”
“Hmph.” I look around before tugging on the cord and gritting my teeth. “Fine. Where do you want to meet?”
“At your place. You can leave the bat under your bed though, Babe Ruth.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it brings a grudging one to my own.
With a snort, I murmur, “Whatever. See you then.”
After the call is disconnected, I head to the corner booth when Dottie stops me. “Usual order, doll?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Dottie.”
“No problem, darlin’. I’ll bring it over in a few.”
I take a seat across from Gigi and prepare for the inquisition in three…two…one….
“So, who’d ya call?”
My teeth dig into my lower lip in hopes of containing my smile at the predictability of the conversation.
“No one. French toast today, huh? Are they all out of pancake batter? Ya know, with how much shit you give me for ordering the same thing, I’ve never seen you eat anything that isn’t drenched in butter and syrup. Just sayin’.”
“Well, maybe I need a little something sweet in my life. Ever think of that?”
Raising my hands in surrender, I nod my thanks to Dottie as she places a hot plate in front of me. “Thanks, Dottie. That was fast.”
“I put in the order when ya walked in, doll.” With a wink, Dottie moves along to her next task for the evening, leaving Gigi and me alone in our booth.
“Ha! Now that’s what I call perfect timing,” Gigi teases. “So how’d tonight go? You’re here earlier than usual. Was it bad?”
My face nearly splits in two from my grin as I remember why my night was cut short.
“I take that as a no,” she quips.
“It’s a definite no,” I reply, feeling giddy. “The tournament is official. They must’ve announced it in the last few days, but I just saw the billboard tonight.”
The realization that my plan is finally coming to fruition is enough to make me dizzy with anticipation. It’s so close that I can almost taste it. The revenge I’ve been plotting for years is in reach. I just need to finish strong and grab onto it with both hands.
As I take a giant bite of eggs and hashbrowns, G starts probing, “So, are you going to make the buy-in? I know you were worried about the deadline…” her voice trails off.
After swallowing my bite, I lean forward and keep my voice low. “Yeah. I’ll have enough. I can’t believe it’s only a week away, though. I thought I’d have more time to mentally prep.”
“I thought you’ve had years to mentally prep to face him again.”
“Yeah, but this is different. Initially, I was simply counting to get by. It’s the only thing I knew how to do, and it was fun sticking it to the man.
But then I saw Burlone and pieced together he owned the place during the last poker tournament a few years ago, so I started saving up.
” The memory surfaces as if it were yesterday, making my stomach churn with anxiety.
I know I’m not the little girl he abused all those years ago, but it doesn’t stop the fight or flight response from flaring up every time I think about him.
Shaking the feelings off, I continue. “I never felt like I’d actually have a chance to take him down, ya know? ”
“Yeah, I get that. Do you think you’re ready?”
Now that’s the question. I don’t know what else I could’ve done to prepare for this tournament. I’ve practiced. I’ve watched. I’ve learned. I’ve put in enough hours to last me a lifetime. Now, I just need to pray it’s enough to make him hurt.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I shrug, taking another bite of eggs.
As Gigi watches me devour my breakfast, I can see the wheels turning in her head before she works up the courage to ask me something. “Do you think he’ll recognize you? I mean, you’ve said you’re the mirror image of your mom.”
The eggs nearly get stuck in my throat as I contemplate the answer. “I’ve been dying my hair for years, and my arms are track-mark free. Other than that? I don’t know what else I can do to keep it from him.”
“To be fair,” Gigi offers, “he probably doesn’t even remember her.
The guy’s a slimeball and has been doing shady shit for a long time.
I mean, we’ve all heard rumors of what he does even if no one’s able to prove it.
I doubt he recalls everyone he’s screwed over in the past. And like you’ve said, you usually hid out in your room when he was there, anyway.
Maybe he doesn’t remember that your mom had a daughter in the first place. ”
I stare into the distance as visions of his fist connecting with my face as a kid––and the night my mom wasn’t home––scream their rebuttal, but I choose not to voice it.
After a few heavy seconds, I murmur, “Maybe.”
The eggs and hashbrowns I’d eaten a few minutes ago roll in my gut, so I push my plate away.
“Do you want me to come to the tournament? To show some support?” Gigi’s smile is hesitant, and I think she knows it isn’t a great idea, either. We both have our reasons for only ever meeting at Dottie’s even if neither of us has voiced them out loud.
“No, it’s okay. Meet me here, though. We’ll celebrate with a kickass waffle smothered in butter and syrup.” I grin, and she returns it with one of her own.
“Deal.”