Page 53 of Betting Blind
His mouth opens slightly with what I’m sure is a witty comeback, but he stops.
“What’s wrong?” I turn my gaze in the direction of where he’s staring, only to see Bruce stare back at us.Great.Now I’m going to have to answer twenty questions about why Jack is here when he basically told me to stay far away from him.
“Oh, don’t worry about him.” I wave my hand dismissively, but there’s anger and fear mixed in Jack’s eyes, putting me on high alert. “Jack. What is it?” I turn back to Bruce, but he’s gone.
Jack’s eyes are void of emotion, leaving frigid iciness in their depths. “Nothing, I’ve gotta go.” He brushes past me, confusing me further.
“Wait,” I call after him, following just long enough to watch him dash out the diner door.
My eyes dart across the restaurant to see if anyone observed the weirdness that’s transpired between us, but our guests continue chit-chatting amongst themselves, enjoying their meals.
A man waves me down from one of the tables I was serving, and I’m forced back into work when I really want a moment alone to process what just happened. I glance at the door, half-expecting Jack to bust back through with a laugh, reassuring me this was all some weird joke, but neither of those things happens.
What the hell?
* * *
An hour later, I finally get a break, and it’s impossible for me to shake the dread simmering under my skin. Jack was afraid when he caught sight of Bruce earlier and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. Bruce is one of the sweetest men I know, and nothing about him scares me. So why would someone as tough as Jack be frightened?
Juliana’s left already so I can’t consult with her, and the messages I sent to Jack after he abruptly left have remained unanswered. There’s only one way to get to the bottom of this.
Bruce’s door is closed when I approach his office, so I politely knock three times. “Bruce?” I call when he doesn’t respond.
My patience is thinning the more my anxiety grows, and finally, I turn the knob to see if he may have left his door unlocked.
I gasp when I’m met with little resistance and the door swings open wide. “Hello?” I say, but the office is dark and silent. Double-checking that I haven’t been followed, I glance down the hall before stepping inside, quietly shutting the door behind me.
The scent of Bruce’s aftershave is fresh enough to know he was in here, but it’s hard to know exactly what time he left. I step behind his desk and sigh. The messy mounds of paperwork scattered across his space bring on an immediate headache. How this man gets any work done is beyond me.
I shift a few piles around, unsure of what I’m even looking for. As far as I know, Bruce is an old man who likes to go to the bingo hall on the weekends, owns some land and properties around town, and has always been a father figure to me and Jules.
I turn to peek in the various filing cabinets behind me, but after a few attempts to open them, I give up. They’re all locked and after searching for a few more minutes for a key, I sigh. “I better get out of here,” I whisper, but when I accidentally bump my hip into the corner of Bruce’s desk, I’m reminded of our conversation from a few days ago when Jules and I asked if we could take our vacation.
Squatting by the desk, I see two metal drawers with a metallic clip that locks each drawer in place. I vividly remember him placing some paperwork in one of these compartments. “Please, please, please,” I chant as I slide the metal clip back. I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m rewarded with a faint clicking sound, and the drawer glides open.
I greedily sift through the files in the cabinet, stopping when I reach a group of papers with uniformly sketched lines across them. Placing the papers on top of his desk, I grab my phone and use the flashlight function to get a better look.
My eyes rapidly scan over at least ten separate pages, and my blood begins pumping so hard I momentarily go deaf. “W-what can this mean?”
Splaying the papers out before me, I roam my eyes over them once more before I stand, clutching my chest. The images represent detailed blueprints of Jack and Ben’s bar, with bold lettering advertising a demolition date at the top of the page. And if these blueprints are correct, the entire bar is going to be rebuilt… for ownership of Bruce.
The wheels are spinning, but I don’t understand. It makes no sense that Jack would hand his ownership over to Bruce. Do they know each other? Adrenaline churns my stomach when I remember how fearful Jack appeared before he bolted from the diner.
The Pound is Jack’s pride and joy. No, Jack wouldn’t give Bruce ownership. Which means this is far more complicated than I can fathom.
Snapping some pictures of the paperwork, I rearrange everything the way I found it and hurry out of his office before anyone notices.
Red flags are waving at me from every direction as I hurry to my car the second my shift ends. I idle in the parking and think about what piece of the puzzle I’m missing. Jack and Bruce must have a history from the way they acted when they saw each other today, but I can’t know what it is without asking one of them.
Bruce owns several different buildings around town, but what benefit could he have from taking over Jack’s bar? I reflect on his angry gaze and rigid posture the moment he laid eyes on Bruce. If Jack’s known him this entire time, that means he had to have lied to me at some point.
Opening our message thread, I check to see if he’s responded. When I only see my messages staring back at me, I grunt, frustrated. With my foot still on the brake, I throw the gearshift into reverse, send him one last text, and floor it all the way home.
* * *
It’s nine o’clock at night and I sit nervously, tapping my fingers against my thigh as Momma and I finish watching a cooking show on TV. I’m still jittery from my encounter with Jack this afternoon, and my messages are still left unanswered.
Gordy whines from his spot beside my recliner, and I pat his boxy head. “What’s the matter, boy? You want a snack, huh?”
