Unable to hold myself back from this girl who knows me better than myself, I grab her by the neck and yank her to me. Our lips smashing together in a frenzy of heat, tongues twining, saliva mixing, and teeth knocking. Pulling her away from me, my eyes notice her red, swollen, moist lips. “God, I love you,” I mumble, “baby,” I add, and a smile begins to form on her lips.
“I love you, too,” she replies.
“And?” I coax, and she giggles, creating deep ecstasy inside of me.
“Baby,” she finishes, and I kiss her one more time before starting the truck to drive us home.
CHRISSY DID A great job at cooking dinner. Actually, everyone had some as they filtered into the kitchen and Chrissy would shove a spoon or fork to their mouth, asking them to try it. Laughing at the table, I tried to concentrate on economics when I couldn’t stop admiring her ass when she bent over. Or when I sensed her eyes on me, briefly waiting for something to finish cooking. The anticipation level increased with every glance, building to when I would spread those legs open tonight and thrust into her over and over again.
I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Because as we’re washing the dishes and loading the dishwasher, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Chrissy bumps me with her hip as payback for flicking water to her face. Pulling it out of my jeans, my dad’s name flashes across the screen.
Chrissy’s eyes glance over when she hears me answer. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I grab her and encase her in my arms. She rains sweet kisses over my Adam’s apple and neck, gaining a huge smile from me.
“Hey, Edge. I hate to ask, but I need you tonight. Pete started his own business, taking some of my clients. I’m trying to do some damage control with odds and things. The fucking asshole,” he yells, and Chrissy’s eyes pull back, wondering why my dad is so angry.
“All right. Give me a half hour,” I tell him and press the end button, agitated from the obligation to help him that nags at me every time he’s desperate.
“You’re leaving,” Chrissy whines, and my heart shutters with the sound of her voice.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” I guide her to the kitchen table. “My dad needs me to go to his place. Help him out,” I don’t flat out lie, but the untruths singe my tongue as the words leave my mouth.
“I’ll go with you.” She’s eagerly ready to leave with me.
“You can’t. Plus I won’t be long, I swear.”
“Okay.” Her voice low and unsure of what is really going on.
Standing up, I bring her to her feet and wrap my arms around her waist. “Be ready when I return, because I’ll be stripping my clothes off as I walk up the stairs to my room.”
She giggles, and I smile down at her. “Love you.” I bend down and kiss her. “Thank you for dinner. It was great,” I compliment her, and she nuzzles into my chest a little before I ultimately have to put an end to it.
I fist the wheel when I’m halfway to my dad’s. Chrissy’s unsure yet unwavering eyes following me the whole time as I got my wallet and keys only angered me more toward my dad. I swear she knows I just lied, but she didn’t call me out on it, and I’m wondering why she didn’t. She’s not someone to keep her feelings hidden from others. I’m pissed at myself, at my dad, and a little at Chrissy for not calling me out as the loser I am right now.
It turns out my dad needed my help more than I thought. I had to contact a couple bigger clients, promising tickets to shows, entertainment, kegs of beer to the college kids. You’d be amazed how many kids pay their college tuition by betting odds on sports.
“Edge, grab the tablet. Use those great instincts and find me some damn pearl to save us.” The fact he uses me twists my stomach, guilt slowly taking over the swarms of butterflies Chrissy ignited only a half hour ago.
Scanning, I try to turn off the pressure. Allowing myself to feel it, opening myself to the one odds that flash out in front of the others. I attempt to push Chrissy out of it and do this one thing for my dad. The sooner I figure one out, the faster I’ll be in her arms. The problem is I’ll be lying to her while I’m there, separating us by omissions, cheating us of a real chance to a future. Guilt from her words a few hours earlier, her confirmation I wouldn’t ruin this, but it’s only been seventy-two hours, and I’ve already screwed with us.
Like someone was shining down, a simple game listed, and the anchorman’s voice from two nights ago resonate in my head. An underdog hockey team that may just be able to pull off a win because of injuries on the other team. My gut signals me this is the one, so I tell my dad, and he wearily grips his neck with his locked fingers. “This is aggressive, Edge. You sure?” he questions, and I nod my head feverishly.
“It’s the one, Dad.” I divulge the inside scoop I heard on ESPN, and he agrees. The game starts in an hour, and my dad makes the call into Vegas to his own bookie.
Me: Sorry, baby. I’m caught up. Go to bed and I’ll be back soon.
I text Chrissy, two hours later when I’m still stuck in the family room, watching the game with my dad.
Chrissy: Okay. Miss you
Guilt … fucking guilt
Me: You too. I love you.
Chrissy: Love you. Hurry up.
Me: I promise
How on earth can I promise her anything at this point? Look what I’m fucking doing here.
An hour or so later, my dad’s screaming at the television and my knee is bouncing up and down out of control, distressed that maybe I made the wrong choice. Shit, maybe it was another calling out to me from that damn tablet. I’m glued to my dad’s leather chair, watching a small black puck shoot from one side to the other. The two teams tied with only twenty seconds to go. I bite at my fingernails, my heart races, and this is the part I hate most. The uncertainty if you’ll win. Taking big chances that could bankrupt you. If I’m wrong and this team doesn’t pull it off, that’s exactly what I’ve done to my dad, ruined him. He’s worked years to get his client list and this betting ring going, and one game is his deciding fate.
Finally, a player swings around the goal and sneaks the puck into the net, and my dad roars so loud, I swear the walls shake. “Shit, Edge. You did it again.” He grabs my hand, yanking to my feet, and they stumble before going steady. “Gotta love that adrenaline rush,” he says, and I silence my disagreement. “Come with me.” He motions with his hand, and I follow him back to the basement.
He opens a door that I’ve been forbidden from touching, and there stands two safes side by side. Turning the knobs and pressing his hand under an illuminated light, it clicks. Piles of green fill it, the smell of filth filtering out. My dad always said there was nothing better than the smell of money, but it’s another thing I completely disagree with. Thumbing up the piles he hands me three stacks of money. “College tuition,” He smiles, and I add the amount in my head.
“Dad, this is thirty grand.” I hold it up and shake my head.
“You have no idea how much money you just made me, do you? It’s your cut.” He shuts the safe, ushers me out of the room, and then shuts and locks the door.
Debating in my head what the hell to do, the money just confirms the guilt of what I’ve done. “I’m not sure I can do much more of this,” I honestly say, and he clasps his hand on my back. That affirmation, he’s proud of me. The sole reason I’ve done it this long—getting praise from him.
“Oh, Edge, when you’re out of college, you can just dabble into it. I’m not asking you to take over the business.” He laughs, and I hang my head down; the money in my hand burning my flesh.
When I arrive at the door that I unconsciously walked to, I turn around to find a very satisfied dad. He’s on his high—high of winning. “You did good tonight, kid,” he says, and my stomach churns. “Now go find some girl to celebrate with.” Chrissy’s face floats to mind, weighing my stomach down. He opens his door, an invitation to leave.