I drive by her place three fucking times. Three isn’t my lucky number, but three makes shit happen in my life. There is a beginning, a middle, and an end. The middle is the safest place to be; I’ve always known that to be true. I hated the idea of choosing to be the safest—the one who floated—so I never did.
I park in front of a dive bar, the Double Down Saloon. Then I walk in, order a beer, sit, and wait. Before my beer is finished, I see four men walk in together, and behind them is Monte.
I leave my stool, walk to the back of the bar, and sit in a corner booth. I look up to see that bastard walking toward me with his boys.
He stops in front of me. “I want the keys to that piece of shit you rolled up in. Then you better tell me where my little whore is.”
I laugh, intentionally taunting him. “Not gonna happen.”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re dealing with here, Aces, but in these parts, you don’t fuck with me.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t much like following the rules of a piece of shit like you.”
One of his guys steps forward.
“You might wanna call him off, because the way I look at this, you may not want any physical altercations between you and me. ’Cause, if you ever come face-to-face with that fine ass again, she’s gonna be looking at you like you ain’t shit. Not after she’s had me.”
“I’ll fucking ruin you.”
“Well, I did ruin her…for you or any other man she chooses to let inside that tight little * of hers. You ever hear her scream out anything other than ‘Get the fuck off of me’? ’Cause the way she screams my name is like—”
“You’re a dead man.”
“If I died today, I’d die knowing I’ve tasted heaven, something you never did. I have no idea how the fuck you can call yourself a man and not eat a *.” I look at one of his boys. “Can you believe that shit?”
“I don’t eat whore.”
“From what I understand, she was seventeen when you fucked her, and she had no one else, ’cause you made her believe she owed you, which sounds a lot like rape to me. So, if my calculations are correct, Monte, she’s had two dicks, one tongue, and only one man who made her feel like a woman and not a fucking captive.”
“She and I are married; her mother gave consent. There was no rape involved.”
“Not a true marriage, and she was a seventeen-year-old girl who was scared out of her mind after being raised by a woman who never knew true freedom. You fucking raped that ass.”
“Is that what she’s saying?” He laughs.
“No, that’s what’s real. She’s learning real fast, though. She’s gonna raise that little girl to be whatever she chooses to be someday. You owe her; she doesn’t owe you shit.”
“Listen, you fucking punk, she owes me three hundred thousand dollars, and I intend to get it all back, by whatever means it takes. If you’ve got that kind of cash, she’s all yours.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, she’s all hers.”
“The man doesn’t want to lay claim to an ass he’s willing to die over.” Monte laughs, and then so do his guys.
“What you fucks don’t get is that a woman who chooses the man she is underneath is fucking owned—mind, body, and soul. If I get you the money and she stays with me, I’ll have much more than ownership—I’ll have a woman who will be by my side willingly. She won’t be a girl looking for an escape. And if she doesn’t choose me, I’ll still never have to reach down my pants to check to see if I have the equipment that makes me a man—I already know by my actions that I am all man, a better man than she had before.”
“Three hundred grand and I don’t give a fuck if she’s a willing participant to you or not. I’ll just know the little whore has paid her debt. You have three days.”
When he stands up, he looks at his guys, then at me. “Three fucking days and I’m coming after you, then her, and then the kid.”
“You touch either one of them, and I will personally put you six feet under.”
“This isn’t a game, Aces.”
“No, that would be too easy. I’ve already beaten you.”
He whispers something in the ear of one of his goons, then walks away.
The man pulls out a card and throws it on the table in front of me. “Your mouth should have stayed shut. Monte doesn’t just want your money; he wants your game, too. Be there or I give him the location.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I have people looking into you. You play his game, get him his cash, and I won’t use the information. You don’t show up and don’t pay him, and he’ll know who you are and where to find his wife and child.”
“What the fuck is your deal?”
“Ask Hailey.” He turns and walks away.
“Ask her what?”
He doesn’t turn back.
I look down at the card. It’s the golden ticket, the address to the tournament where I will play a game for the biggest prize of my life.
He thinks I’m a gambler.
But I’m not.
—
I pull up in front of Seed, a little dive on the east side of Vegas. I grab the card Monte’s man dropped on the table, my golden ticket. The ticket that will win the girl who has been blowing up my phone for the past twelve hours.