Page 11 of Off-Limits as Puck

“How do you know she disappeared?” I counter.

“Because we’ve never seen you so…” Danny Clark laughs from across the table. “You have that look of regret written all over your face.”

“It wasn’t regret,” I snap, then immediately regret the defensive tone. The guys’ exchange looks.

“Ooh, Hendrix’s got feelings,” Tony singsongs. “Was she special?”

“Drop it.”

“At least tell me you didn’t do anything stupid like propose,” Marcus says. “Because honestly, after last night’s performance, that would be exactly your luck.”

“What performance?” I ask, confused.

“Your boy Danny here lost two grand at the blackjack table,” Tony explains. “And Marcus tried to convince a cocktail waitress to marry him.”

“I was not trying to marry her,” Marcus protests. “I was just saying she had beautiful eyes.”

“You asked if she wanted to go to a chapel,” Danny points out.

“Well, at least nobody actually got married,” I say, taking a long sip of coffee.

My phone buzzes with a text, and for a split second my heart jumps, thinking it might be her. Instead, it’s my brother Matty’s name on the screen, and the message makes my blood run cold.

Matty:Need to talk. It’s bad this time.

I know exactly whatbadmeans. It means Matty’s in deep with the wrong people again. It means another sleepless night wondering if my little brother is going to end up with broken legs or worse. It means more money I don’t really have going to cover his ass.

Reed:How bad?

Matty:$100k. Maybe more. I know you said last time was the last time, but…

I don’t bother reading the rest. One hundred thousand dollars. Jesus Christ.

“Everything okay?” Marcus asks, noticing my expression.

“Fine,” I lie, shoving the phone in my pocket. But it buzzes again almost immediately.

Matty:They want it by Monday or they’re going to make an example of me.

Monday. That’s tomorrow. And I know exactly what kind of example these people make.

My phone rings, and Matty’s name flashes on the screen. I consider ignoring it, but the guys are already looking at me weird, so I step away from the table.

“What the fuck, Matty?” I answer, keeping my voice low.

“Reed, thank God. Listen, I know what you’re going to say—”

I storm out of the restaurant. “Do you? Because what I’m going to say is that I’m done. Done covering for you, done enabling this shit, done pretending like you’re going to get better.”

“This time is different—”

“It’s always different!” I hiss, walking toward the lobby for privacy. “Remember last time when it was ‘different’? That was sixty grand, Matty. Sixty grand that I worked my ass off for while you were sitting in some back room pissing away money you don’t fucking have.”

“I had a system—”

“You have a problem!” I’m raising my voice now, and a few hotel guests are starting to stare. “And I’m done being part of it.”

“Reed, these aren’t the kind of people you just ignore. They knowwhere I live, they know where Mom lives—”

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