The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(11)

His smile broadens, but his brows furrow when I won’t shake his hand. “Good, come with me.”

I don’t budge from my spot underneath the tree. “Yeah, I’m going to need to check with Preston before I go anywhere with some random dude who looks like he could be a lawyer and who could be setting me up.”

His smile falters, but then he relaxes and bobs his head up and down. “Yeah. Totally. I understand.”

“Give me a second.” I walk away from him, dialing Preston’s number when I reach out-of-hearing range.

“Hey beautiful.” Preston sounds like he might be high and having a party with all the background noise. “I was expecting your call.”

“Why? Because you sent some rich douche down here without telling me?” I say, glancing back at Roy who has his attention focused on a girl in a skirt bending over to pick up a paper she dropped and who’s totally flashing the entire campus yard.

“I was testing you,” he says simply. “I want to make sure we don’t have anymore screw ups in our future.”

I roll my eyes. “So did I pass or fail?”

“You passed,” he says and I can hear the grin in his voice. “Which means only good punishments for you tonight.”

My heart withers a little more—soon there won’t be anything left of it. “If it’s okay with you, and you’re test is over, I’ll get back to fishing.”

“No, Violet, you need to go with Roy,” he says, talking loudly over the music.

I press my finger to my ear so I can hear better. “Why? I thought it was a test?”

“A test yeah, but Roy has a connection to this underground poker game place in one of the more upper ends of Laramie and if we can impress him he might just make us his permanent dealers. Which is a good thing. Trust me. We’re getting in with the big timers.”

I try not to freeze up at the mention of underground poker, because I know Luke likes to hangout at those kinds of places and big timers are a lot different than dumbass college guys who think with their dicks. “I’m not sure I want to do this deal.”

“Violet, don’t f*ck this up for me,” he says, his anger rising through his voice. “This is a great opportunity and if you’ll just act like your normal self, I know you can dazzle the shit out of them. Just make sure to give them whatever they want.”

“I’m not a whore,” I say, getting pissed. “I’m not going to f*ck anyone.”

“I never said you had to, but I think you have it in you, if you had to,” he says. I’m about to yell at him, right in front of Roy when he adds, “Look, I’m sure no one expects you to f*ck them or give them a blow job or anything. Just smile and show them your cleavage and I’m sure my product will seal the deal. You can save the f*cking and blow jobs for me later. In fact, I’d kind of prefer it if you did.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and tell myself to shut it all down. Don’t feel a thing. “Fine, I’ll do it, but I swear to God if someone says something about you saying that I was going to take care of them, I’ll kick you in the balls when I get home.”

“I like it when you talk kinky to me,” he says with a deep chuckle. “Now get out there and make me happy then come back to me. I’m starting to miss you.”

I feel like I’m going to barf right here in front of everyone, all over the grass. I shake my head, annoyed, but still tell him okay, because I don’t really have a choice. Then I hang up and go back over to Roy, smiling as sweetly as I can. “All right Roy, where are we going?”

“Up on Fifth and Grove,” he says with a grin as his gaze lazily takes me in.

We start across the campus yard. It’s quiet between the two of us and I’m pretty content with it, but apparently Roy isn’t because he says, “So do you like playing Texas Hold’em?”

I shrug, trying not to think about the last time I played Texas Hold’em with Luke while he was wearing a towel. “It’s okay, I guess.”

He stops in front of a black Mercedes with tinted windows and shiny chrome trim. He aims the keys at it and it beeps, the lights flashing and the doors unlocking. “Well, if I were you, I’d pretend that you love it for tonight.”

I nod, getting his meaning. “Got it.”

We get into the car and he turns on the engine. Then he cranks the heat when he notices that I’m shivering a little from the chilly breeze outside. “You should have worn a jacket or something.” he remarks as he buckles the seatbelt.

I glance down at the goosebumps on my legs. “A jacket isn’t part of my uniform,” I tell him, bouncing my knees up and down, trying to warm up.

“Oh, gottcha,” he says as he pushes the shifter into reverse. “There’s some Vodka under the seat if you want a shot.” He backs up the car and straightens the wheel, then flashes me a grin. “It might warm you up.”


I’m about to decline, because I’m not a fan of drinking—it makes me too crazy and emotional—but then I remember what I’m supposed to be. And that if I do mess this up, then I mess up the little life that I have. So instead I put on my dazzling smile, the fake one I haven’t worn in a while, then reach under the seat, to take a shot, pretending to be okay, pretending I’m not drowning in a sea of pain. Pretending that I’m okay with being here, when I’m not.