Page 5 of A Scandal in Homeroom
Whereas I did. I really, really did.
The next time, I sent an email out to a few more bored boys, then a few more. The fact that it was by invitation only made it that much more appealing to them. Not just anyone could play. Only those I selected. This town loved nothing better than shutting people out. Exclusivity gave this town a contact high.
Easy money.
Until, suddenly, it wasn’t. One day, Coyle approached me on the street as I was walking home after one particularly long game and told me that his boss wanted in on the action, or else.
Coyle didn’t scare me. He was a weasel with thin blond hair and bad acne-scarred skin. But the threator elsedid. It seemed Coyle’s boss was connected with the mayor, the town commissioners and the local police. Either I let him in on the game, or he would shut it down and have me arrested.
I didn’t want to be arrested. However, if I was honest with myself, I also didn’t want to walk away from all that money. If I let Coyle’s boss take over, the game would continue.
Coyle became my partner. We split the vig—ten percent of the night’s pot—thirty-seventy with his boss. A man I knew only by the name Moriarty. Also, I got to keep my tips.
Our only direction from Moriarty: Make the game bigger.
We’d been looking for a space that would work for the past week. Someplace private, unassuming. Nothing that would attract the notice of random teens coming and going.
The Woods were too open.
This was a selective, invite-only game, despite the list having tripled in size since I started it. We couldn’t pick a place that anyone could stumble across.
I hated that Coyle was right. Thornfield Home was on the edge of town, abandoned, and, even better, there was a back entrance that led directly into the basement.
The basement ran the length and width of the entire building. A massive space with unfinished concrete walls and a cement floor. Pipes ran along the ceiling, but the room was lit with bulbs spaced evenly throughout.
On the other side of the room was a staircase that led to the main floor where there were two bathrooms just beyond the door. The three floors above were dark, but the electric still worked. There was a private entrance to the basement, and clients would have access to bathrooms and running water.
It wasn’t pretty. Nothing about Thornfield Home was. But it fit our requirements. It would just take some work to give it some ambiance.
“How did you get the key to this place anyway?”
It wasn’t like any of us had keys even when we lived here. All comings and goings had to be done through the front door where an attendant monitored our activity.
“You know what Moriarty always says,” Coyle answered. “Don’t ask questions.”
No, I didn’t know what Moriarty always said as I’d never actually met the man. I’d only been ordered by his stooge and my fellow classmate to get with the program.
Or else.
Maybe I should have walked away then. Told Coyle to shove it and let them take the risk without me.
But the money…all that easy money.
Still, I wasn’t stupid.
“It’s risky. Twenty tables, ten to a table. How the hell are we going to keep a poker game that size on the down-low? My operation was small, private and profitable. This screams,come get us.”
Coyle shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe we need to keep it to ten tables. We can always up the blinds. The higher the stakes, the higher the vig.”
“Awesome,” I said dryly. “Thirty percent of ten percent. Thanks for nothing.”
“Hey, the seventy percent is going to provide you with the protection you need. Then there’s that pretty face of yours to help you with tips.”
He reached out and grabbed my chin. I pulled back, then punched him in the gut. Hard enough that he doubled over.
“The fuck, Adler?”
“No one touches me. No one. Not ever. Unless I say so.”
