Kristen Ashley - The Gamble

“Later, Duchess,” he called, a hand up, two fingers flicking out, he didn’t even look back.

Becca looked back though, and up. She gave me a wince-I’m-sorry-face and a finger wave and I knew she heard everything. I’d totally forgotten she was there.

Then I watched Max throw his now black leather jacketed arm around her shoulders and I wondered who Becca was and what she was to Max who was just upstairs, semi-fighting with me and also, if I wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t think I was, flirting with me in a rough, macho, mountain man kind of way

They talked for a few seconds at the side of her car then they separated. Becca got in her sporty, red, mini-SUV. Max got in his black Cherokee. They both drove away.

I looked down at the bottom floor and saw my cranberry juice, my coffee and my untouched oatmeal all sitting on the bar.

Then I looked out the window at the wilderness.

The internet advertisement for the A-Frame said it was fifteen miles away from the nearest town, secluded, quiet, the perfect holiday destination for a calm, relaxing, peaceful getaway.

The Nightmare Holiday Destination if you had to walk fifteen miles to town carrying a suitcase, an overnight bag, a purse and a shitload of groceries.

Tackle a problem prepared, Charlie advised in my head and I nodded like he was there with me.

Then I walked downstairs, heated up my oatmeal, warmed up my coffee and sat at the stool, preparing to tackle my problem.

After I ate, I did my dishes, Max’s dishes, wiped down the counters, found the extra sheets in the closet and made the bed. Then I found the utility room around the corner from the recess in the living room. The dirty sheets were on the floor. As the advertisement said, washer and drier but also a bunch of man stuff that needed to be organized.

I let that stuff be. I put the sheets in the washer.

I packed my bags and decided that Max could have the groceries. He and Becca and the unknown Mindy could have a party. I didn’t care. I was out of there.

Then I poured myself another cup of coffee and found the phonebook. It was thin; I’d never seen a phonebook so thin.

I realized why it was thin when I looked up taxi companies. There was only one. But one was enough.

I went to Max’s phone, pulled it out of the receiver and punched in the number.

“Thrifty’s,” a woman answered.

“Hello, my name is Ms. Sheridan and I need a taxi to town.”

There was a pause and then, “Nina?”

My body jolted and then I froze with the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” the voice called.

“Um… yes?”

“This Nina?”

“How do you know who I am?”

“Welp, Max called, said a lady with a fancy accent by the name of Nina would call, askin’ for a taxi. You’re a lady with a fancy accent and you’re askin’ for a taxi. Get some of those callin’ with British accents, not a lot. So I’m takin’ a wild guess. You Nina?”

I wondered if I could make it to Denver then to England before anyone discovered Max’s body. Then I wondered if anyone would bother with extradition if they figured out it was me who did the deed. That was a lot of paperwork for one big, tall, domineering, jerky mountain man. Then I wondered, considering Max was so tall and big, how I’d kill him.

Then I decided, poison.

Then I answered, “Yes, I’m Nina.”

“Max said you been down with flu, girl, you need to rest,” the woman advised me.

“I thought I’d check into a hotel room in town.”

She hooted in my ear but said no actual words.

“What?” I asked.

“Girl, Holden Maxwell quarantined me to his house and he was in it, I wouldn’t go lookin’ for no hotel room.”

I felt my brows draw together. “Who’s Holden Maxwell?”

“Who’s Holden Maxwell?” she repeated.

“Yes. Who’s Holden Maxwell?”

“Girl, you’re livin’ with him.”

His name was Holden? What kind of name was that? No wonder he called himself Max.

I decided not to ask about the origins of Max’s name or explain the fact that I was not living with him and told her, “Well, he isn’t actually here, so I’m quarantined alone.”

“Oh, he’ll be back.”

I didn’t doubt that.

“Since you probably know where he lives, will you please send a taxi?” I asked.

“Nope,” she answered.

I was silent a beat, mostly shock, a little anger then I repeated, “Nope?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause Max says you need to rest.”

Yes, definitely poison.

“I’ll pay double.”

“You still gotta rest.”

I was seeing red again, I ignored it and offered, “I’ll pay triple.”

“Triple shmiple. You gotta rest.”

“Listen –”

“Come into town with Max when you’ve recovered. I’ll buy you a beer.”

Did she just tell me she’d buy me a beer? How did we get from me ordering a taxi to her buying me a beer?

“What?” I asked.

“Name’s Arlene. Come to The Dog. Show you the town only locals know.”

“But –”

“Gotta go. Get some rest, you hear?”

Then she hung up.

I stood staring at the phone buzzing at me. Then I beeped it off and put it in the receiver.

The internet advertisement didn’t say word one about nutty townspeople. Not word one. If it did, I definitely would not have hit “book now”.

I looked back through the phonebook. No more taxi companies. There were three rental agencies but they rented ATVs and snow mobiles. I didn’t think that would help.

It was either walk, when I felt like taking a nap, or I was stuck.

Which meant I was stuck.

Which meant I needed to take a nap so I could be energized and clearheaded when I plotted Holden Maxwell’s murder.

Before that, I had one more thing to do.

I went to my purse, grabbed my cell and saw the battery was low. I also saw I had a number of texts, all from friends, not one from Niles.

I climbed the spiral staircase, went to my overnight bag beside my suitcase, dug out the charger and the converter, attached them and plugged them into the wall. Then I pulled the cord and phone with me and sat on the bed. Then I went to my contacts and hit Niles’s number.

He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Niles?”

“Nina?”

I tried to figure out how I felt about his voice coming at me over the phone and I couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t relief or welcome familiarity it was just… well, familiarity.

Then I tried to figure out how I felt about his voice coming over the phone not sounding relieved that I was calling from half a world away. Just sounding like Niles and I was at the store asking him what he wanted for dinner. I couldn’t figure that out either.

“Hi, I’m here,” I told him.

“That’s good.”

“I’ve been here for –”

“Listen,” he cut me off, “I’m about to go into a meeting.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a meeting.”

I shook my head. “Niles, I just wanted to tell you, I’ve been sick.”

“Yes, you said you thought you were getting a sinus infection.”

“Well, it was worse than that.”

“You sound fine.”

I did. Miraculously, outside of being tired, I felt pretty good. My throat didn’t hurt, I wasn’t coughing though my nose was still kind of stuffy.

“I’m better now.”

“That’s good.” He sounded distracted. “They’re waiting for me.”

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want me to call later?”

“Later?” Now he sounded perplexed, as if he didn’t understand the concept of later.

“Later, tonight, when you’re home.”

“I’m working late.”

“Yes, but your late is my afternoon.”

I heard his sigh then he said, “If you want.”

If I want?

I felt anger again, surprisingly anger at Niles. I never got angry at Niles. He never did anything to get angry at mostly because he never did anything.

“Niles, I’m half a world away.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m half a world away!” I said louder.

“I don’t understand.”

And he didn’t. Because he wasn’t the type of man who cared if is fiancée needed a timeout and took it half a world away.

And I wondered what he’d think if I told him I was staying in the beautiful home with breathtaking views with a amazing looking man who’d seen me naked (mostly), made me breakfast, teased me, flirted with me and who I’d kind of slept with.

“Are you there?” he asked me.

“I’m here.”

“I need to go.”

“Of course.”

“Call me later, if you like.”

“Right.”

“Are you okay?”

No, I was not.

I didn’t tell him this, instead I said, “Tired.”

“Rest, that’s what you’re there to do.”

No it wasn’t. I was there to take a timeout.

“Right,” I said again.

“Talk to you later.”

“Right.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

Then he disconnected.

I stared at my phone, hit the button to turn it off and set it on Max’s nightstand. Then I flopped back on the bed. Then I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry.

Charlie had never met Niles and I wished he had. Charlie had always been sharp, good at reading people. Charlie would have given it to me gently but he would have given it to me straight.

Problem was, I didn’t think I needed Charlie to give it to me straight.

I lifted my left hand to my face and with my right hand I touched my ring.