Cold Deck: A Novel

21

||| 104 ||| to say something. Ben grinned as a doctor might when preparing a patient for bad news. Audie took the car keys from her purse and rattled them. I turned for the door, knowing another sleepless night faced me. 21 We waited at Ben’s in the den for the fourth member of the crew to arrive, Angel with his eyes on a sports betting form, Audie in a recliner with an open newspaper in hand, me on a stool, steadying my sweating hands. Past noon, the temperature hung at 110 degrees. For two days the ever-darkening clouds had promised rainfall, but so far had delivered only a blanket of humidity that spread over the valley and sapped our energy. I looked out at the sky, clouded up again all the way south to Stateline. Between the heat and humidity and my jitters, I felt as if I’d just run a one-legged marathon. Ignoring all of us, Audie turned a page and spread the paper again. “Does the paper say rain?” I asked. She glanced up at me, nodded, and flipped to the next page. “Nice talking to me,” I said. She went on reading, or pretending to. I’d lain awake much of the night, most of it in gut-turning anticipation. I feared I would lack guts enough to go through with whatever was to come or freeze in the middle of a play and bungle the caper. One slight error could result in jail for all of us. The thought scared me, and the humiliation it would cause my children truly disturbed me. They could laugh off a quirky act like dumping dog turds on someone’s shoes, but my getting arrested for stealing from a casino would likely be unforgivable. As if dwelling on possible consequences wasn’t enough to deal with, Audie’s demeanor toward me was inexplicable. She’d brushed off my invitation to stay the night, didn’t even come inside, just brushed my cheek lightly with her lips, and curtly told me to get a good sleep. This morning, on the drive to Ben’s she’d barely spoken. When I asked how she’d slept, she’d shrugged and adjusted the rearview mirror. And when asked what was wrong, she’d said, “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Let it go.” As I looked at her now, I wondered if I’d been duped. I thought it through for a few seconds and decided if I’d been duped, I’d duped myself into this. All I had to do was stand in an unemployment line, bide my time, and find a job, any job. ||| 105 ||| Ben sat beside Angel on a couch. “What do you think, Jude? This clown here, this Angel, risks getting busted so he can bet on football. Not just football—preseason games. Is that nuts?” Angel waved his hands as if erasing Ben’s comment. “How’s it nuts? It’s my money, and hey, a game don’t mean nothin’ if I don’t have a wad on it. Where’s the damned rush?” “I never bet sports,” I said. I looked at Angel, careful not to stare or make it obvious that I sensed something familiar about him that I still couldn’t pin down. “Never bet ’em?” Angel said, obviously astounded. “Weird.” “Jude’s a family man,” Audie said without looking up from the magazine . “Spends his money on his kids.” She was irritated, maybe at Angel. Or the idea of his blowing money on betting sports. Perhaps me. I gathered from the way she dismissed Angel’s remark that whatever reason she had for leaving abruptly last night, Angel wasn’t it. “Well, that’s good,” he said and looked at me. “What she ain’t saying is that she and my ex are . . . were . . . friends. And Audie doesn’t think I’m much at the fathering business. Hey, they get what they need. They’re my kids. You know, I got feelings.” I shoved my shaking hands in my pockets to keep the others from seeing them. Audie set the paper aside, came over, and rested her hands on my shoulders. She dug her fingers in. I stiffened. “Relax,” she whispered. “You’ll do fine.” Angel looked our way. “No secrets, kiddies.” “How’s he doing?” Ben asked Audie. “Ask him.” Audie let her hands drop to her side. She walked to the recliner, where she sat and crossed her...