Page 26 of More With You

“Are you going to place another bet, sir?” I say stiffly, avoiding his beady little eyes.

With a grunt, Levi places another black chip on the circle. No tip, but I know I won’t get one since there aren’t any other guests around to pressure him into it. Man, I miss Clive, but he won’t be back for a while.

“You wouldn’t want the DuCates thinking you’re a gold-digger, would you?” He draws a circle on the felt with his forefinger, his cheek propped on his palm as he looks over at me, clearly pleased with himself. “It doesn’t look good from the outside—you, pursuing the son of one of the richest families in the South. Then, there’s all the stuff with your grandma. So many bills, right? It’d make life a lot easier if you had a rich boyfriend to pay for it all, wouldn’t it? You could probably overlook a secret daughter for that, huh? The thing is, Summer, I don’t have a secret daughter, and I’d be happy to help with those bills if you just take my previous offer. It’s still on the table.”

My hand freezes on the shoe. Anger fizzes through my veins like soda shaken up too hard in the bottle, ready to explode out of me in ways I won’t be able to control. People can say what they like about me, more or less, and I’ll take it with a saccharine smile, but bringing my grandma into the conversation… It’s guaranteed to make me bite. He knows it. I know he knows it, and if I want to keep my job, I’m going to have to fight to stop myself from giving him the satisfaction of seeing me lunge over the table to knock the smirk off his face. I hiss in a shaky breath as I draw fresh cards from the shoe. “My business is none of yours.”

“It is if it involves old friends,” Levi replies. He “hits” with sixteen, busting immediately. “Me and the DuCates go way back. You might say I’m like the son they wish they had. It’s my civic duty to keep them updated on who’s getting involved with their actual son. Unless… all of that’s a non-starter? I’m guessing so, since your face is all puffy. Did you cry all night because the golden boy lied to you? Doesn’t seem like you’re picking out “Number One Stepmom” mugs.”

I level my glower at him. “Stay out of my business, Levi. Whatever you think you know about me and my grandma, you don’t know jack.”

“I know she’s at the St. Mary Residential Facility just outside Madison, Wisconsin,” he replies evenly. “I know you barely scrape by, paying her bills every month. I know those bills are going up at the end of this month and drawing cards at the blackjack table—high-limit or not—isn’t going to cut it anymore. Coincidence that you throw yourself at a rich heir, at the same time you’ve got bills about to drain you dry? I don’t think so.”

My throat tightens and my fingertips on the cards, still undrawn, are clammy with fear. The simmering rage bubbles down into a hollow sort of despair that guts me. I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t think. He’s lying. He has to be lying. The bills already got hiked a year ago, while I was working my way down south. Surely, they wouldn’t hike them up again, so soon. Even if they did, how would Levi know? I haven’t had a call, inviting me to set up a new payment plan.

As if reading my mind, he answers me. “People in this place talk, Summer. You should be careful what you give away about yourself.” My eyes dart toward Sandra and then to John, wondering which one betrayed me. Could it be Clive? I’d spoken to him about my grandma once, in more depth than I usually would, but he’d caught me at a vulnerable moment.

“That residential place could use a new receptionist, too,” Levi added. “One call and she told me everything I wanted to know. Couldn’t shut her up by the end. I guess they like to talk in Wisconsin.”

“Is this because Ben stopped you from basically assaulting me in that parking lot?” I spit. “Are you seriously that pathetic?”

He shrugs. “It’s a background check. I’ve always thought there was something shifty about you, and now I know what it is.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I shoot back. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh? The friggin’ IRS? With one call, I could have you charged with a breach of confidentiality. I bet that’s not far from fraud, if you lied to the receptionist to get that information.”

He reels back slightly, like he wasn’t expecting me to fight. “There’s no need for that,” he fumbles. “I’m just telling you what this thing with Ben looks like. The DuCates see it that way, too.”

“Then they can take it up with me!” I hiss, clearing the table of cards and his measly one-hundred-dollar chip. “I haven’t relied on handouts from anyone my whole damn life. I’m not going to start now.”

I put up my hand to signal John and notice, with relief, that Sandra sees it too. I’d rather get a slap on the wrist for taking half a sick day than lose my job completely by smacking this son of a bitch across the face.

“So, you and Ben are still a thing?” Levi looks confused. “You’re cool with him lying about having a daughter? What are you, some kind of pushover?”

I brace my hand against the table. “He didn’t lie. He omitted it until he was sure he was ready to introduce me to her.” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I’m still speaking to you. You shouldn’t even be at these tables.”

At that moment, before Levi can respond, Sandra swoops in to save my ass as John approaches the table.

“She’s going home, John,” Sandra insists. “She’s not feeling well, but she didn’t want to skip out on her shift. You know what it’s like when dealers handle the cards with shaky hands. The guests get pissed, the tips get worse, and it’s no good for anyone.”

John eyes me and I see shock register in his eyes. “Well, you definitely don’t look too good.” He pauses. “And I can appreciate you coming in anyway, instead of calling out. It’s quiet enough and I doubt tonight will be much busier, it being a weekday and all. Go on, take yourself home. I’d rather you be better for your shift tomorrow.”

“Thanks, John.” I don’t even look at Levi as I power walk to the staff doors, push through them, and make straight for the locker room.

There, I throw open my locker, get changed as fast as adrenaline and terror will allow, and sink right down onto the floor with my bag in my lap. I sift through it for my phone and unsteadily dial the residential facility, praying with all my might that Levi is the pathological liar I think he is.

“Hello, this is St. Mary’s. Genevieve speaking. How may I help you?” comes the calming, rehearsed voice of the receptionist. I’ve spoken to her countless times, and know she is a bit of a gossip who likes to chat for as long as you’ll let her. But she’s still a professional who wouldn’t give important information out to strangers, isn’t she?

“Hi, this is Summer Larson.” I hesitate. “I just wanted to check the date for my next bill, for Mrs. Norma Larson.” With no father to speak of, except in genetics, I kept my maternal last name.

The receptionist gasps. “Goodness, she’s a popular one today. I just had her nephew on the phone, asking the same thing.”

She doesn’t have a nephew. I hold back my anger. I have bigger things to worry about.

“It’s the twenty-sixth of the month, as per your payment plan, but as I told him, the bill will be going up from the start of next month. It’s currently…” She taps some keys, no doubt winching up the guillotine that she’s going to drop on my neck in a minute. “Six-thousand-six-hundred-and four dollars per month, but in line with national increase, it’ll be…” I feel the blade hovering, ready to fall. “Seven-thousand-four-hundred-and-twelve dollars for the semi-private room she currently has.”

I feel sick. Bile rises up from the churning in my stomach, searing my throat raw as I struggle to swallow it back down. That’s almost a one-thousand-dollar increase. Surely, there’s some law against raising costs by that much?

She clearly notices I’ve gone quiet. “Miss Larson? Would you still like to pay on the twenty-sixth of the month, or would you like a different arrangement? If you’re struggling to pay, I can send you details of agencies you can call, who can help in financial difficulties.”

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