I fake gag. “Another Eurotrash playboy. Just what the world needs.”
“I don’t know where he’s from. The US, I think. He’s got a weird accent. Anyway, he asked if I wanted to buy in, and because I didn’t want to look like a total weirdo, standing there staring at him, I said I did.”
“You’ve only been gone an hour. How bad can it be?”
“Very bad.” His lids flutter, and he swallows audibly. “I bet everything.”
I resist the urge to shrug. Everything when you have nothing probably seems like a lot. Tod currently lives with me—he’s a roommate who doesn’t pay rent, rather than the one yousplit your utilities with. He uses my hot water, eats my fridge contents, and drinks my wine, and has done little else since he wandered into Whit & With, my art gallery, and charmed me into showing some of his work. I’m always loaning him money, which he says he’ll pay back with his next commission, though he never does.
He thinks he’s doing me a huge favor by doing a few shifts as a gallery assistant each week rather than the other way around because I do actually pay him.
I ignore the unhappy poking sensation at my temple. If the gallery doesn’t break even soon, I think my brother Leif might cut his losses. Leif, or Whit, as he prefers, is my not-so-silent partner. Without him, I wouldn’t have a business. But he’s a banker, not a charity.
Maybe I should’ve asked Whit to give Tod money lessons because he’s hopeless with the stuff. He’s also hopeless with appointments. And the passing of time. The unloading of the dishwasher and adulting in general. It’s his artistic temperament, I suppose. When his muse strikes him, everything else in his life seems to gray out.
“I suppose I can loan you what you need,” I say, sighing resignedly.
“No, you can’t.”
“It’s not like it would be the first time.” Ignoring his frown, I carry on. “Come on. How much are we talking about? A few hundred?” Tod says nothing. “A thousand. A few thousand?” I suppose I can manage that much.If I pull out my emergency credit card.
But Tod shakes his head.
“More?” Damn. I’ll need to ask one of my brothers. Obviously, not Whit. My eldest brother has more money than God, but he’s not one to part with it willy-nilly. Not that I blame him, I suppose.
“Worse than that,” Tod says, morose. Jesus, is he about to cry?
“Not more than five figures. Tod?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I didn’t think I’d gotten in so deep. I almost passed out when I realized I had, but then, I had this amazing hand—a winning hand. The only problem was, I had nothing left to play with. But then I told him about you. And I said…”
“You said what?” I demand.
“That you were good for it.”
“I hope you didn’t say it that way.” My words take on a warning tone.
“What? Oh. No.”
“Becausethatwould be less than flattering,” I add, not ready to release my frown. “And while I know nothing about poker, I do know we wouldn’t be having this conversation if your hand wasthatamazing.”
“I had four of a kind, but Raif—”
“So you lost.”
“Had a straight flush…” he finishes, his voice small. “I’ve got to pay up. I told him I’d come and find you. And he said ‘good’.”
“Good?”
“I thought I would find you, and we could leave before he realized.”
This is now… concerning.
“You thought we could leave because you can’t pay him?”
“Yes, but he sent his thugs with me. They’re standing outside the door.”
“Is this some kind of joke, Tod?”
