The Gamble: A Novel (2 page)

Warren reluctantly shakes. “We have a bet.”

And so it all begins...

Alexxa

“And you're not mad? You swear you're not mad?” Marie, my roommate, sighs from my doorway.  She combs through the ends of her black hair. “We can wait. We can totally wait. We can absolutely wait.”

Do you get the feeling she
wants
to wait?

“We-”

“It's cool.” I shut my laptop. “Really. You guys probably should've moved in together years ago.”

Not that I have any room to give advice on boyfriends or relationships. My only real relationships with the opposite sex have been with my best guy friends and that's not exactly saying much. I'm basically one of the 'bros'. I've been Dutch ovened and given them more dead legs than I can possibly count. Couples don't behave that way with each other, right?

“It's a big step,” she argues, her olive color face tinting to a faint green. “Like
huge
. Like monumental huge. Like can't really breathe huge...It's right next to marriage-”

“I thought engagement was next to marriage?”

Marie stops her tangent to huff, “Oh, shut up.”

My only true female friend. There's probably a deep psychological reason I gravitate towards the opposite sex and if I let Warren spend too much time talking to me about my childhood I know he'll find it. Definite drawback to having a wannabe shrink as one of your PIC’s. Most likely it's a combination of growing up with four sisters I never fit in with because I had more fun throwing dirt with the neighbor boys than twirling in princess dresses, and the simple fact I am my father's favorite since I'm the only one who prefers raunchy humor to cry me a river dramas. Don't give me that look. How many times can one person really watch My Best Friend's Wedding before they contemplate running and 'accidentally' breaking the DVD while their sisters are sleeping? Hm? We're not here to discuss if I actually did it or blamed someone else.

After I snicker, I try to comfort her while rubbing lotion on my brown hands. “This'll be good. New job, why not a new apartment too?”

“That's a lot of change.”

“Yeah, but change isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it's really exciting. For instance instead of meaningless coffee or lunch runs and filing paperwork like I have for the last six months, I'll be helping with clients. Talking to them. Matching them with auditions. I only get a little nervous when I add their
parents
into the equation. The fact I've had so much experience dealing with parents was one of the reasons Ken wanted me to take over for his assistant. Apparently he has an easier time talking to casting directors than pushy mothers.”

Marie laughs and shakes her head. “I've seen that show Toddlers and Tiaras. It gets a little scary at times. I can only image as they get older their parents get worse. Should I be worried for your safety? Are you gonna get stabbed if their kid
doesn't
get the part?”

I lean back against my pillows and joke, “Guess my self- defense classes may finally come in handy for more than just annoying Luca when he gets drunkenly grabby.”

The expression on her face changes and I brace myself for what I know is coming.

Her hate for him has never been subtle. As much as I wanna defend him and tell her he's not the asshole he appears to be, that would be a blatant lie. For the most part, what you see is what you get. I think that's where the appeal is. He doesn't waste time wooing women with promises of tomorrow or pretending he'd rather listen to Taylor Swift than Kansas. He doesn't order a steak to look manly or pretend sports aren't what he lives and breathes. He never apologizes for being him and never asks me to apologize for being me. Luca just does what he wants, when he wants, and doesn't care about the rest of the world's opinion. It makes him oddly charismatic.

“Where
is
your favorite dick head tonight?”

I shrug. “I don't know. It's not like he's got the 'Find Me' app installed in his ass.”

“As much as you two hang out, he might as well.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” she pauses, I assume to search for the less bitchy way to continue. “It means I don't know how you expect to ever find a boyfriend when you spend most of your free time around the most over used tool in the shed.”

Warren is on her good side. It's why she's not complaining about him
and
Luca.

I stifle my giggle. “I'm not exactly
looking
for a boyfriend.”

Then again, I'm not
not
looking for one either. I'm totally that girl that's cool if it happens and cool if it doesn't. Honestly. I've got a vibrator and it keeps the orgasms coming. Ha. Get it?

“Why don't you come out tonight with me and Grant? We're gonna get a drink with some of his old college friends. Maybe you'll hit it off with one?” When I give her a skeptical expression she quickly adds, “Or not. No pressure. Just come hang out. I've got total kicking my roommate out at the end of summer guilt and need you to make it better.”

I giggle, shake my head, and hop out of bed to give her a hug.

Our friendship started because of a hiccup. I went to the wrong address for a roommate interview and couldn't be more thankful I did. Her ex-boyfriend was moving in with the chick he was cheating with and the last thing she wanted was any female who resembled her in any way. I.E. Blonde, skinny, dumb, and perky. Being black, curvy, intelligent and heavily sarcastic, pretty much covered all the bases. Plus I helped smash some of his shit during the interview. Pretty much bonded us together.  

With a tight squeeze I state, “It's gonna be fine, Marie. Change isn't always a bad thing. Trust me.”

She pulls away on a sniffle. “You smell like cinnamon.”

“One of the kids got me a bottle of lotion instead of a box of chocolates for Valentine's day. What do you think?”

“It makes me want Red Hots.”

After offering her another warm smile I say, “Guess you'll have to settle for a drink that tastes like one. Now get out so I can find something to wear. Spritzers or beers?”

“Beers. Some corner pub they used to go to all the time. Come to think about it, I
need
you there for me. I can sense there are going to be a lot of obnoxious stories from their past and I'll need someone to
actually
talk to...”

Marie leaves on a defeated sigh and I cock a crooked smile.

Three years is a long time to live in one place and then have to abruptly leave. Then again, it's a long time to be at one job and then decide to go. All the changes will be a good thing in the bigger picture even if they're a little scarier than I will admit out loud. At least I've got two constants in my life that'll never change. One more good thing about my friendship with Luca and Warren. It'll always stay the same.

Luca

I kill the engine of my Audi. “I can take you Ma. It's not a big deal if I go in a little late.”

“No,” she sternly snips. “You don't need to be late.”

“You don't need to go to the doc alone.”

“I never said I was going alone.” The clarification causes me to frown. “A very good friend is going with me.”

“It shouldn't be your
friend
going with you especially when your son is the one worried about you.”

“You don't need to worry so much, mijo.”

Can you fucking blame me? If your mother, the head coach of your life, got fucking cancer wouldn't you be fucking worried? Yeah, it was lung cancer, and yeah the cells didn't spread, but it's fucking cancer. It never fully fucking retires even when it should.
 

“Ma'-”

“No.” Her tone puts an end to my arguing. “I'll send you a message letting you know everything is fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promento?”

My head hits the headrest. “Fine. I'll see you for dinner on Sunday.”

“Si,” she sighs. There's a brief pause before she slips in, “Have you spoken to your father?”

I shut my eyes in irritation.

I've come to think about communicating with my father like a bookie I don't really fucking like. He pays out when he's supposed to. Calls only when he needs to. Isn't that the ideal father and son relationship? Maybe it would be better had he actually been around instead of a sideline parent at best. He only has
one
fucking son he had to be around for, how fucking hard can that be?

“Mijo.”

“I don't need any money.”

“You can speak to him for more than dinero. I raised you better than that.”

“But he didn't.” Hearing the displeased growl from the end of the phone, I quickly try to end the conversation before I get myself in actual trouble. “Look Ma', I gotta get ready for work since I'm not taking you to the doc, I don't have a good excuse to be tardy.”

“Go. Go. But at least consider speaking to your father for an extended period of time.”

No.

Instead of lying to her I simply hum, “Mmm. I'll talk to you later. Te Amo.”

“Te Amo.”

The call ends and so does the topic of my family.

Look at me funny all you want, but my family is my business. No one else’s. I got enough questions growing up about why my father wasn't around for games, why my family photos usually consisted of just me and my mom, and not to mention having to explain why family reunions were impossible. Ma is an only child who's relatives are somewhere in Mexico as are any stories about them. Her parents cut ties before she was born for good reason she declares, but that's all she says. My father on the other hand, well, he comes from a long line of single children. I'm sure he would've broken the pattern if he was ever around for longer than the time it takes to change a fucking tie. The man does love a good power tie. He was the first to marry a non-white woman, so at least he gets credit for breaking the cycle there.

**

In the small office space designated for employees to use for curriculum planning, Alexxa shakes her head from the seat beside me. “Keep scrolling. I don't wanna go to that farm again.”

“Why not? It was fun.”

“It was
not
fun,” she argues. “It was a long ass bus ride there, a boring tour, and I couldn't get the smell of horse shit off of me for hours. Pass.”

“It wasn't that bad.”

“The only reason you think it wasn't that bad is because you got the farmer's daughter's number.”

Leaning back in the computer chair, I start to smirk at the memory of her cowgirl boots behind her head.

Where the fuck else do cowgirl boots belong?

Alexxa moves the laptop over to her possession and huffs, “Stop picturing it.”

“You wouldn't blame me for reminiscing if you heard her holler.”

Her gorgeous toffee colored face scrunches in question. “Do you have me confused with Warren right now?”

“Nah. You appreciate my conquests more than he ever does.”

“That makes me feel great about myself,” she mumbles and continues to search through the list of suggested field trip locations for summer camp.

While some people initially make fun of the fact I'm the after school counselor at a child care facility, it's the easiest line to part a pair of perfect thighs. What woman doesn't love a guy who's good with children? Natural fucking aphrodisiac.

“Bowling?” Alexxa hums in question.

“I like bowling. I mean
you
suck at it, but the kids will love it.”

“I don't suck at bowling.”

“You can't handle your ball.”

“Not all of us spend that much time playing with them.” Her sassy comeback makes us both chuckle.

Alexxa is like having all the best parts of a dude friend, but with a beautiful set of tits and an ass that should be sitting on my face for hours. When she first started working as my co-teacher, I pegged her for an easy lay, yet here we are three years later, territory still un-fucked. I also assumed she'd quit quickly, after all, many others had. But she didn't. She proved she wasn't a rookie fresh out of the minors with a false idiotic notion of how to talk to the youth. She came straight in the game strong and easily climbed her way onto the
very
short list of people who don't get on my fucking nerves.

I lean over and point. “Ice skating? Really? Do you just wanna listen to children bitch all day how much their knees hurt from falling?”

“Better than listening to bitches whine about being on them for hours from dick sucking.”

See what I mean. Bad mouth, beautiful face.

Fighting the urge to tell her her own knees will hurt soon enough, I smirk.

“The kids will get to do a meet and greet with a couple of minor league hockey players and shoot pucks with them.
This
goes in the win category.”

“
You
just wanna meet hockey players.”

“That's just an added bonus.” She winks before typing it onto the list. “Besides, you love sports, so this is perfect.”

Sports. Women. Beer. Walking cliché with a cock of gold.

“Now, we only need a couple more trips and then we can work on the planned projects for camp days here.”

I grunt, “No macaroni bullshit crafts. Every year I have to pretend to be impressed by glued pasta on paper. It's annoying.”

She rolls her brown eyes. “You're annoying, yet I haven't gotten rid of you.”

With a grab of my jean covered crotch, I retort, “I've got twelve reasons why.”

Disgusted she snaps her head at me, preparing to say something back, when a voice interrupts, “Heard the news, Alexxa. Bummer.” The two of us turn around to see Pam leaning against the door. “We're gonna miss you around here.”

Doubtful. Pam hates Alexxa. Hell, most women in this building hate each other without the guts to admit it. Except Alexxa. She's mastered the art of being professional and an upfront bitch all at once. She's not big into the petty gossip shit either, which is a relief. Last thing I need is one more person in this building saying I did someone, I didn't actually do.

“You're not. But I appreciate the false sentiment.”

Her words make me chuckle as Pam looks at me with a hopeful expression.

Fuck. I forgot how that makes her look like Bambi when his mother died.

“Who knows, Luca. Maybe I'll get to switch classrooms and hang out with you every day.”

“Not likely.”

My comment causes her to uncomfortably giggle.

Don't look at me like I'm the one who shot the deer.

“Headed to lunch?”

“Yup. Want me to bring you something back?”

Could use a mid-day hummer in the parking lot, but I should probably finish work instead. Damn me for being a good employee.

I lean back in the chair. “I'm good.”

“Well, text me if you change your mind.” She bites her bottom lip. “Text me any time.”

Pam's eyes wander across me before strolling back out of the room.

The moment she's gone, Alexxa bites, “How long have you been fucking her?”

“I'm not currently fucking her.”

“Because you're sitting in the chair?”

“Ha-ha.” When her facial reaction doesn't change, I roll my eyes. “No. I haven't slept with Pam in months.”

“Isn't she engaged?”

“She is
now
.”

“Come on, Luca,” Alexxa whispers in disapproval.

Put your scowl back in your purse.

“They weren't then. She told me they were having problems. Then took off her top.”

“I don't...I don't need an actual picture painted.”

As her fingers start typing on the keys I argue, “It only happened a couple times and they were technically on a break during that time.”

Remember when it happened in Friends? A lot like that except Pam only went back to him when she realized I wasn't looking for a girlfriend. I don't
do
the girlfriend thing. Ever.

“God, the list of women you've boned at the school is getting out of control.”

Turning back around to face the computer with her, I poorly defend myself, “It's not that bad...”

“Seriously?” My eyes cut over to hers. “You've slept with five of the women who work here, including our boss-”

“I didn't technically have sex with her-”

“-and seven women who no longer work here including the owner's daughter.”

I cock a playful smile. “Wanna be lucky number 13?”

“I'd rather suffocate in space.” She tosses her head at the screen. “Speaking of, we could do these during space week.”

Giving the paper plate planets a quick glance, I say, “Yeah, let's do those.”

After my approval, she turns her attention back to working while I outline her amazing curves with my eyes, flagging each and every spot I plan to leave my mark on the moment she's underneath me.

Prefer them that way. Gives me the power to control just how hard and how rough it gets.

The idea causes me to adjust in my seat. “You coming over tonight?”

“Kick boxing class first.”

Which means she'll be wearing those tight ass black yoga pants with no underwear and a tank top with her tits pushed up. The outfit might as well be fucking exercise porn attire. Pretty sure I've seen
that
X Video. If I was her instructor, I would've tried to tap it the first time she walked into my class and every day until she let us hit the mat.

I adjust my growing hard on. “It'll just be the two of us. Warren's gotta work late.”