Page 5 of Beast

When my parents died, he was there for me. Now, I’m here for him.

“Would you mind waiting?” I ask the Uber driver. “I’ll be two minutes.”

He gives me a pointed look. “It’s raining. Everyone wants an Uber tonight.”

“I just need to collect my uncle from inside and I’ll be right back.” I dig into my pocket for my last five dollar bill. It’s not much of a bribe. But enough to maybe keep him here for five minutes. “Here, take this. I’ll be quick.”

The Uber driver accepts the five dollars with a nod, and I climb out and disappear inside the casino.

I find Uncle Maurice at a slot machine. His face lights up when he sees me. “Belle, what are you doing here?”

He gives me a toothless smile.

“What areyoudoing here, Maurice? We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but I can explain everything.”

At sixty years old, my uncle looks like a crazy professor. White hair. Wild beard. Big eyes. Frenetic energy. He wears a wrinkled Coca-Cola T-shirt over faded khakis and a scuffed pair of running shoes, one with its shoelaces undone.

He's eccentric. Absentminded. Always distracted. Always bouncing from one wild idea to another.

“I was on one of my afternoon walks and I found a twenty dollar bill. Twenty dollars, and I thought I could double it. And I did Belle, I did. I won almost a hundred dollars.”

He looks proud with himself. I look at the coin container in his hand.

It’s almost empty.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“I was going to win it back.”

I let out the deep breath I was holding. I do that when I’m stressed.

“You’re not meant to be here. What are you going to tell them at the meetings?” He attends Gambler’s Anonymous every Thursday and then an AA meeting on Friday. “You know, you’ll have to be honest with them.”

He looks crestfallen and starts to get upset with himself, and I feel bad for getting angry at him.

I look around the room with its gaudy lights and flashing slot machines and hate every inch of it. It’s noisy and garish, and it stinks of stale alcohol and body odor. Dreams are lost here. Hours stolen and lives changed. Maurice can’t help it. He’s an addict, and unfortunately his addiction is winning. He’s not weak. He’s sick.

“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s go home. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How about I fix us some of that chicken noodle soup you like so much?”

My uncle’s face lights up. “That sounds nice, Belle. Real nice.”

“Okay then, grab your coat and let’s go home.”

When I get back to the apartment, I’ll ring his sponsor and we’ll work out a new strategy to help him.

As we walk away from the ringing bells and dazzling lights of the slot machines, a strange shiver crawls across my skin. It tickles the hairs on the back of my neck and slides down my spine.We’re being watched.I do a quick scan of the room but nothing seems out of place.

I try to shake it off, telling myself I’m anxious from being fired and from finding out how deep my uncle’s gambling addiction has gotten its claws into him.

But as we step outside, the sense that someone is watching us grows stronger, and my gut tells me it’s not anxiety.

It’s instinct.

Something is coming.

CHAPTER 2

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