Game (Gentry Boys, #3)(21)
“What’s up, Steph?”
“Nothing,” I grumbled, leaning against the wall.
Truly gave me a vague smile and rolled on some lip gloss. There was nothing artificial about her. If she knew about me and Chase then she wouldn’t hide it.
I cleared my throat, thinking I ought to come clean. “Hey, ah, Truly?” She looked at me and I lost my nerve. “Thanks for getting me to come along,” I told her instead. “It was a nice wedding, nice to get out of town for a few days.”
“Of course,” she grinned. “I’m glad you had fun, although you should have stuck around this morning to see how Chase was mooning over your absence.”
“Was he?” I asked, feeling a bit lightheaded.
“He was. Creed always says that Chasyn is far too used to getting his own way. It might actually be good for him, to finally run into a girl who says no.”
Oh, but I didn’t say no, Truly. I did it all and then pleaded for more.
“Ha,” I laughed, picking a piece of paint off the wall. “Yeah, I guess.”
Truly sensed something was off. She frowned a little and then stepped out of the bathroom, her dark eyes watching me sympathetically. “I know things still aren’t right with you, Steph. I know you’re hurting and I won’t ask you again to tell me about it. Please don’t think I’m trying to push you. I’m not.” She sighed. “As for Chase, it’s probably better you steered clear. He’s a sweet guy with his own set of problems but I can’t vouch for where his head is at. And although I love him to pieces, if he did anything to hurt you I’m afraid that would have to change.”
There was never a better friend than Truly Lee. At least, not in my lifetime. I’d once had a lot of friends but they’d shown their real colors when my family fell into disgrace. No one in White Hills wanted to be known for associating with the daughter of a jailbird, the sister of a murdered criminal. Instinctively I knew that if Truly had been around she would have stuck by me. There was no doubt.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I have a tough enough time just sorting through my own messes. I’m not eager to incorporate anyone else’s at the moment.”
“Someday,” Truly answered with gentle ease and she meant it kindly. She knew what she was talking about. She’d had her own painful history to deal with before she’d found Creed.
“Someday,” I agreed. I didn’t enlighten her on the fact that I’d already failed to steer clear of Chase.
After Truly left for work I paced around the apartment for a while. Running a sports book had kept me so absurdly busy for so long that between work and school I scarcely had a moment to think straight. Now I had far too many moments.
For the first few weeks my clients had buzzed endlessly, wanting to know why I dropped off the face of the earth. I referred to them to Alonzo because I didn’t know what else to tell them. I’d run into Alonzo last week at Salad ‘n Stuff and he’d gaped at me like I was a ghost because we hadn’t actually spoken since that night. He hadn’t been among the men who hooted and filmed. He’d stood there quietly with his head down and then handed me my clothes when Xavier decided I’d had enough.
Alonzo might have been thinking about his dead friend as he watched me. He might have felt sorry for the fact that it was Robbie’s sister being debased before his eyes. He’d warned me though, warned me not to ever step out of line with Xavier. I didn’t hate Alonzo. I did hate Xavier.
Xavier Monroe was the top of the food chain out here. You couldn’t run a decent-sized sports book without his approval and he had dozens of sub-bookies leeching off the local population of na?ve college students. The first time I met him I could tell he didn’t have much use for women outside the carnal realm but he smiled when he heard I was the daughter of Nick Bransky.
“It’s in your blood then” he laughed and allowed me on his team. “Just don’t remind anyone you’ve got a * and you might make it.”
Things went smoothly for a while. I was religious about dotting all the i’s and didn’t stand for bullshit. When some kid called me at eight am, hung over and panicked about owing his grocery allowance for the month, he would often try to tell a fairy tale.
“No, no. I didn’t pick Tulane. I’m f*cking sure I didn’t pick Tulane. I picked Wake Forest. Dammit, you bitch, you’re trying to screw me.”
I never budged. I knew better than to make mistakes like that. My father was fanatical about recording the action and I knew enough to repeat the bet, write it down, repeat it again, and make the caller repeat it once more before I was satisfied. As for the liar sweating it out on the other side of the phone, I would let him know that unless he settled when I came calling then he would never get another bookie to talk to him as long as he was in the southwest. Moreover, he could expect to look over his shoulder for a while in case Xavier decided a few lessons needed to be taught.
I thought all the soft sympathy had been drummed out of me by life and necessity. Apparently it wasn’t because when a desperate young father begged me for help I yielded. Maybe it was my better nature peeking through. Or maybe I was just due for a reckoning. My own father used to say sooner or later every man was, and he should know.
Jose Renato had been a frequent client of mine. Now with a newborn son in the hospital requiring expensive medical care, he was frantic for a chance at a jackpot. I knew right away what he was asking and I knew the odds. I told him honestly that he’d have a better chance of hitting the Powerball.