Chapter 18
The Red Hotel and Casino Has Shut Down Temporarily.
One of Las Vegas most exclusive resorts has been temporarily closed after a series of explosions on the fourth and fifth floors forced the evacuation of its guests and staff. Patrick Bardin, Vice President of Red Trust, confirmed via e-mail that the explosions were caused by two malfunctioning generators located on those floors. Although damage was minimal, inspectors are still waiting for police to complete all investigations before clearing the building for business.
Iput down Lola’s tablet. After she overheard, I’m sure purposely, me asking Andie for a way to check on things and was once again denied, the kid concocted a plan. She’d allow me to use ten minutes of her online time if I agreed to eat the Brussels sprouts being made for dinner.
It was a no brainer. Though I fucking hate those bitter mini cabbages too, I’d eat rotten eggs for access to the outside world.
When her mother wasn’t looking, Lola placed the device under the mattress. I made the excuse of a headache and snuck away while the women were busy cooking.
I’m not sure how much to believe of what’s being reported in the news. With five minutes left on the timer, I decide to log in to my secure server and check for any messages. There are two e-mails that standout from all the usual business bullshit I receive every day.
The first, is a message from Luca. It reads, Are you alive?
The second, is one from Gustavo. Do not trust
I stare at the three words as a chill crawls up my spine. It’s not like him to send me such a half ass message, one without punctuation, left open to interpretation that way. Do not trust? Is it a who? A what? Don’t trust electronic communications?
Fuck. Something is wrong. Very wrong.
My finger hovers over the reply button, but instead, I log out, shut off the tablet and shove it back under the mattress.
“Dinner’s ready.” Lola peeks into the room. “Remember your promise.”
I say, “I know. But if you’re mom catches us, you’re going down with me.”
She takes a step closer and in a hushed, but serious tone, say, “If you want more of my minutes, don’t let her.”
I wipe my hand over my mouth to cover the smile that could completely ruin this alliance of ours. I’d hate for her to think I find her amusing, though in all honesty, I do. Not amusing in a funny way. Simply, admirable. Likable. And I’ve never liked a kid before, so that says a lot.
Lola is going places, I can tell.
I follow her out to the living area, where Miri is almost done preparing the meal, and her little boy Josh, is coloring on the couch.
I’m about to ask where everyone will sit, when Miri points to a closet. “Make yourself useful and grab the foldout table and chairs from in there.” She’s not exactly rude, but not kind either. “Then put them up behind us here.”
“Sure.” I grab a long black table and set it between the kitchen and couch, then place four chairs around it.
From somewhere in the house, Lola produces a portable bench. “I’ll sit in this one.”
“Get these on the table.” Miri serves spaghetti with a side of the dreaded Brussels sprouts on plates, handing them to me as she does.
I set one down on each place Lola is setting. When I put hers down, she wrinkles her nose and pokes at one of the vegetables.
Gross, she mouths.
“Don’t make faces, Lola. They’re good for you,” Andie says as she comes to the table. Our eyes automatically lock, a habit we’ve somehow formed. Then my eyes drop to the waistband of her jeans, where she pats an obvious bulge. The Glock.
Where the hell did she get a gun anyway? And, does she really know how to use it? Something tells me she does. If she didn’t learn when she was being taught how to steal money and hijack cars, she did after. As protective as she is of Lola, I don’t believe she’d have it in the house otherwise.
But do I believe she’d use it against me?
I flick my gaze back up to hers and return the grin she’s giving me. Guess it’s better not to find out.
Miri calls us all to the table. I take a spot between Andie and Lola. As I begin to eat, I realize that what I thought was spaghetti with marinara, is actually something different. While they are spaghetti noodles, the sauce is brown with tiny bits of peppers and tomatoes and some kind of ground meat. I peer at the food on my fork, curiously.
“Sloppy Joe noodles with turkey. I know, it’s weird,” Andie says apologetically. “But it’s Lola’s favorite.”
Lola watches me expectantly. “You shouldn’t make faces until you taste it.”
Instantly, I relax my features. “I wasn’t.”
“He’s probably never tasted poor people food, Lola,” Miri tells her, but is looking at me with obvious contempt. “Probably been eating caviar his entire life.”
“Miri!” Andie elbows her. “Be nice.”
“Seriously? After everything he’s… Ouch!” Miri cries out when Andie pinches her.
I take a bite.
“Well?” Lola urges me for a review.
“It’s not bad,” I say and Miri huffs. “Actually, I’d go as far as saying it’s delicious, though I wouldn’t want it as a meal every day. Not because I’ve eaten caviar my entire life, that’s not remotely close to the truth. In fact, what I grew up eating was probably nowhere near as gourmet as this, considering I procured most of my food from the dumpsters behind restaurants.” Though I say it for Miri’s benefit, it’s Andie’s reaction I’m taking in.
She pauses, with her fork halfway to her mouth as she processes what I’ve said. Then her eyes lift to mine, hers so full of question and shock.
“You lived on the streets?” Miri asks after a moment, her voice slightly less hostile.
“Believe it or not.” I take another bite. “It’s good.”
The table remains quiet for a bit, only the sound of silverware clanking against the plates.
When someone finally breaks the silence, it’s Lola. “Did your mom die? Is that why you were homeless?” There is so much worry in that question, as if she’s been considering what I told them about me, comparing her situation to mine. Her brows are pinched tightly together as she waits for my reply, as if I’m about to confirm something she’s been afraid of.
“Oh baby, I don’t think we should talk about that,” Andie tells her. “Why don’t you tell us about school today instead? Did you see Mr. Pines for chess?”
It doesn’t take long for the conversation to ease out of that tense territory I took us into, mostly because of Andie’s and Miri’s efforts to shift. For the most part, I try to keep my mouth shut, since it’s obvious I’m not the best at appropriate conversations around the family table. How could I be? Even as an adult, I mostly eat alone.
However, after a while, I begin to enjoy the noise of their chatter, Josh’s random humming and Miri’s wild cackling laughter. And there is something about the familial comfort, the routine they seem to have as they ask for salt or even when it’s not asked for, someone notices and automatically responds, that has my chest tightening in something akin to envy. And why the fuck would I envy this, a dinner on a foldout table that consists of noodles and water when I can have fillet mignon and expensive wine? Or maybe it’s not envy, but something else entirely. I don’t know.
They discuss things, mundane things I’d usually deem boring, but instead, I find myself acutely attuned to.
Besides being a natural with the violin, Lola plays chess competitively. That’s what all the awards in the bedroom are for. Again, impressed.
Andie never misses a match, even though she doesn’t know the first thing about it.
I glance down at my plate and suddenly there are three extra Brussels sprouts lying beside my noodles. Damn, she’s good.
“Eat your chicken nuggets,” Miri says to her son.
He spits out his food and stares at it with a horrified expression. “This is chicken?”
“Eat your T-Rex, Josh.”
The rest of dinner goes very much the same way, with more chatting than eating, and laughter over silly things. It takes over an hour to end, yet when it does, it seems too soon.
After Lola collects the plates, I clean and put away the folding table. Then I go to stand by Andie who is at the sink.
I prop my hip against the counter and watch her washing dishes with pink rubber gloves. A smile tugs on my lips. “Those gloves were in my fantasies.”
Laughter bursts from her. “You need therapy.”
“Maybe.” I lean in to murmur in her ear in a deep and low tone. “Or maybe I just need to fuck you while you’re wearing those gloves.”
Her cheeks go flame red and she clears her throat. “Someone is going to hear you.”
There’s no one close enough. Miri left a little while ago and Lola is playing chess against the computer on her tablet.
But she changes the subject anyway. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
“We will address the gloves later.” I chuckle. “Do you do this every day? This dinner thing?”
“Only when I’m off. Although, I guess now…” She trails off, but I know what she was going to say. Now that she’s going to have all her days off because of me.
Something uncomfortable creeps into my chest and settles there. It feels a lot like guilt, except… I’ve done many bad things in my life. I’ve carried the weight of that guilt for years. But punishing someone for stealing from me has never been something to feel remorse about. And yet…
“Andie,” I whisper, reaching out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
She presses her cheek into my palm and lets out a long breath. “I’m so tired.”
Before I can say anything, Lola screams. “Momma, I forgot to do my math homework!”
Andie’s shoulders slump. “You said you’d do it earlier.”
“Yes, but then he…” she glances at me like it’s my fault.
“What did I do?” I ask, feeling the attacked.
She shrugs. “I wanted to know what you guys were talking about. So, I didn’t do it.”
“Okay,” Andie says on a sigh as she wipes her face with her palm. “Go get it.”
“Hey,” I stop her before she goes to the living room. “Why don’t you take a break. I’ll do it with her. I’m really good at math.”
There’s obvious hesitation as she lets her gaze trail over me, searching for something. Whatever it is, she must find it because she nods. “Sure.”
Lola sets up on the coffee table and I sit beside her on the floor. Andie curls up on the couch to watch us. Within five minutes, her lids lower and shut. Moments after that, she’s asleep.
Seeing her slumbering, my stomach still full from the meal, and Lola waiting expectantly for me to work an algebra equation with her on the floor of this tiny apartment does something to me.
Andie has this every day. The noise. The warmth. The dependency of others. All things I rejected in the past.
But now…
I was right when I said I don’t envy what she has. No, I don’t envy it. I covet it. I desire it.
And I want it all for myself.