Walking Disaster

wanted to throw a typical Maddox tantrum, but Abby needed me to man
up for the moment. Acting against my instincts, I decided to let it go, and leaned down to kiss her. “All right. I’ll see you at midnight. Good luck.”
    I turned, pushing my way through the crowd, hearing Abby’s voice surge at least two octaves. “Gentlemen?”
    It reminded me of those girls who would talk like children when they tried to get my attention, hoping to come across as innocent.
    “I don’t understand why she had to make any deals with that Jesse guy,” I growled.
    “So she could stay, I guess?” Shepley asked, staring up at the ceiling again.
    “There are other casinos. We can just go to another one.”
    “She knows people here, Travis. She probably came here because she knew if she got caught, they wouldn’t rat her out to the cops. She has a fake ID, but I bet it wouldn’t take
long for security to recognize her. These casinos pay high dollar for people to point out the hustlers, right?”
    “I guess,” I said, frowning.
    We met Abby and America at the table, watching as America gathered Abby’s winnings.
    Abby looked at her watch. “I need more time.”
    “Wanna try the blackjack tables?”
    “I can’t lose money, Trav.”
    I smiled. “You can’t lose, Pidge.”
    America shook her head. “Blackjack’s not her game.”
    “I won a little,” I said, digging in my pockets. “I’m up six hundred. You can have it.”
    Shepley handed Abby his chips. “I only made three. It’s yours.”
    Abby sighed. “Thanks, guys, but I’m still short five grand.” She looked at her watch again and then looked up to see Jesse approaching.
    “How did you do?” he asked, smiling.
    “I’m five K short, Jess. I need more time.”
    “I’ve done all I can, Abby.”
    “Thanks for letting me stay.”
    Jesse offered an uncomfortable smile. He was obviously just as scared of these people as Abby. “Maybe I can get my dad to talk to Benny for you?”
    “It’s Mick’s mess. I’m going to ask him for an extension.”
    Jesse shook his head. “You know that’s not going to happen, Cookie, no matter how much you come up with. If it’s less than what he owes, Benny’s going to send someone.
You stay as far away from him as you can.”
    “I have to try,” Abby said, her voice broken.
    Jesse took a step forward, leaning in to keep his voice low. “Get on a plane, Abby. You hear me?”
    “I hear you,” she snapped.
    Jesse sighed, and his eyes grew heavy with sympathy. He wrapped his arms around Abby and then kissed her hair. “I’m sorry. If my job wasn’t at stake, you know I’d try to
figure something out.”
    The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, something that only happened when I felt threatened and was about to unleash my full wrath on someone.
    Just before I tackled him, Abby pulled away.
    “I know,” she said. “You did what you could.”
    Jesse lifted her chin with his finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow at five.” He bent down to kiss the corner of her mouth, and then walked away.
    It was then that I noticed my body was leaning forward, and Shepley was once again gripping my shirt, his knuckles white.
    Abby’s eyes were stuck to the floor.
    “What’s at five?” I seethed.
    “She agreed to dinner if Jesse would let her stay. She didn’t have a choice, Trav,” America said.
    Abby peered up at me with her big, apologetic eyes.
    “You had a choice,” I said.
    “Have you ever dealt with the Mob, Travis? I’m sorry if your feelings are hurt, but a free meal with an old friend isn’t a high price to pay to keep Mick alive.”
    I clamped my jaw closed, refusing to let it open for words to spill out that I would regret later.
    “C’mon, you guys, we have to find Benny,” America said, pulling Abby by the arm.
    Shepley walked beside me as we followed the girls down the Strip to Benny’s building. It was one block away from the bright lights, but it was somewhere the gold had never
touched—and wasn’t meant to. Abby paused, and then walked up a few steps to a large, green door. She knocked, and I held her other hand to keep it from trembling.
    The doorman appeared in the open doorway. He was enormous—black, intimidating, and as wide as he was tall—with the stereotypical Vegas sleazeball standing next to him. Gold chains,
suspicious eyes, and a gut from eating too much of his mother’s cooking.
    “Benny,” Abby breathed.
    “My, my . . . you’re not Lucky Thirteen anymore,