The Probability of Violet & Luke
Page 8“So you’re just going for a week, right? To wherever you’re going? And then you’re going to come back here?” she asks, fiddling with a leather bracelet on her wrist as she stares at the spot on the floor between our feet.
“I’m not sure….” I zip my bag up and hitch it over my shoulder, rubbing my hand down my face. “This is f**king bad, isn’t it? I just need to get the hell out of here. Run away somewhere.”
“You can’t run away from it forever, Luke.” There’s an underlying meaning in her tone as her gaze locks with mine and her chest heaves as she struggles to maintain her breathing.
“No, I can’t.” I pause, dropping my bag onto the floor and retrieving my phone from my pocket to do something I really don’t want to do. I text Toverson, the guy that got me into the game. I need to know how bad it is.
Me: I f**ked up.
I expect it to take awhile for him to text me back, but it takes seconds.
Toverson: I know. And I f**king warned u. God dammit, Luke. What the f**k were u thinking?
Me: I wasn’t. That was the problem.
Toverson: Where r u now? Your house?
Me: Can’t tell u yet. Not until I know how deep of shit I’m in.
Toverson: Luke I’m sorry, but I can’t get u out of this mess. And warning, Geraldson knows where you live.
A shiver rolls up my spine as I read the text and then moments later there’s a knock on my door, well more like a pounding of fists.
“Dammit,” I curse, stuffing my phone into my back pocket. I start to pace in front of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell to do, but seeing no other alternative. I’m trapped. Violet’s trapped with me. This is so bad.
Another loud knock. Then a bang.
“Who is that?” Violet asks, getting to her feet. “Wait. Is it them?”
I stop pacing and look at her. After all this time pining for her to be in my room again, I’m now wishing she wasn’t. I messed up big time and now there’s going be some heavy consequences. “Stay here,” I order, then go into the living room to look out the peephole. Sure enough Geraldson and some big dude with a shaved head that looks at least double my size are standing out there. Both are packing, guns tucked in their belt, brass knuckles on the big guy’s hand. My head slumps against the door, a sequences of curses flowing from my lips as I ram by fist into the wall until the sheetrock cracks.
“What are we going to do?” Violet comes up behind me. “And quit beating up the wall. It didn’t do anything to you.”
I elevate my head and turn to face her. “We aren’t going to do anything.” I stride across the room and shove her toward the bedroom. “You are going to stay back in here and hide while I talk to them.”
“I’m know you have.” I give her a gentle shove toward the bedroom as I hear someone messing around with the doorknob—I’m betting their trying to pick the lock. “But it doesn’t mean that my f**k ups have to add to that list.” I start to push her toward the bedroom again when the front door flies open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it and leaving a hole.
“Fuck.” I strategically place myself in front of Violet, pissed at myself for making bad choices and getting her involved. I don’t give a rats ass about myself, but her… well, it’s making me literally sick just thinking about them even so much as touching her.
“Luke Price,” Geraldson says darkly, taking in my small apartment as he enters. The large guy strolls in right behind him, shutting the door and closing us in. “You owe me some money.”
Gritting my teeth, I reach into my pocket and take out the fifteen hundred I won today. “There ya go.” I throw the small pile of cash on the floor between us, knowing there’s going to be more to it than that.
Geraldson bends down and picks it up, fanning through the bills. “You think this is going to be enough?”
“Probably not,” I say dryly. “But it’s what I won.”
He lets out a low laugh, handing the cash to the big guy who stuffs it into his back pocket. “You steal from me,” he slams his finger against his chest, “and you think we’re even because you gave me the winnings back.” He cracks his knuckles. “Who the f**k do you think you’re dealing with?”
A thousand comebacks tickle at my tongue, but I bite them back, knowing it’ll make things worse. If I was alone, though, it’d be a whole other story. “How much?”
He smirks. “Nine thousand.”
“I don’t have that kind of money,” I snap. “And that’s like six times as much as I won today.”
“That’s the price you pay for being a f**king cheat,” he bites back, stepping to the side to let the big guy step forward. My muscles ravel in knots because I know what’s coming. “You were warned not to f**k with me,” Geraldson says as the big guy pops his neck and then stretches out his fingers with the brass knuckles on them.
I could run, but they’d only chase me. And throwing a punch means getting more in return. And knowing Violet, she’ll probably try to intervene, like she did that time at the bar when I got myself into a mess. I don’t want her getting involved more than she is, so I tighten my muscles and hold still as the big guy rams his fist right into my side. The impact and the metal knocks the wind out of me as my body fights to hunch forward, but I refuse to let it, forcing myself to stand tall. From behind me, I hear Violet suck in a breath, then her hand touches my back, causing my muscles to twitch.
“You have five days to get the money to me,” Geraldson tells me as he and the large guy head for the front door. “And if you don’t, you won’t be walking away from this.” His threatening tone makes me want to clock him in the face. Fighting, it’s what I do. It’s engrained in every part of me, helps me settle down, calm myself when there’s a storm inside me. But I can’t bring myself to do it—not with her just inches away from me.
“And you.” Geraldson leans to the side and looks around me to Violet and I have to stab my fingernails into my palms just to keep my hands in place. “You can tell Preston that I won’t be doing business with him.”
Violet doesn’t say anything, but flips him the middle finger as he strolls out of the apartment with the big guy who just punched me in the gut. When they’re gone and the door is shut, I turn to Violet and her eyes frantically scan over my body. “Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard.” She starts to lift her hand as if she’s going to touch me, but then pulls back, deciding against it.
I nod, allowing my shoulders to slump as I sink down onto the closest sofa. “Super,” I say through clenched teeth as I cradle my throbbing side.
“What a asshole, sucker punching you like that.” She kneels down in front of me, sweeping her hair to the side as she lowers her head to inspect the area I’m cradling. “Did he break any ribs?”
“Do you want me to get you some ice?” she asks, leaning back and sitting on her heals. “Or some painkillers?”
“I have painkillers in my room and I’ll get them.” I get to my feet, moving slowly through the pain. “And no time for ice. I need to get going.” Now more than before, to a place I don’t want to go. But I know that if I don’t pay up, I’m going to be fuuuuucked. And it serves me right. I went there looking for trouble—I got exactly what I wanted.
“Where are you going?” Violet asks, following me as I hobble back to my room.
I want to ask her why she’s still here with me. Why she’s not running away again like she has been, but I fear asking her will remind her. “I’m going to go gamble and see if I can get up to nine grand.”
Her eyes widen as a breath eases out of her lips. “How the hell are you planning on doing that? I mean, you could end up losing all of your money in the process and be even more screwed”
I pause in the doorway of my room, knowing my only option at the moment that might help me dig my way out of this mess. “I have to make a phone call,” I tell Violet, my voice sounding strained. But I shake it off and grab my phone from my back pocket. “Can you give me a minute?” I ask and then head back to the kitchen to make a call I don’t want to make. But as I stand there, trying to dial my father’s number, it proves harder than I thought. Still, it’s either ask him or get my ass beat to death, so shoving all my pride aside I just do it.
He answers after a couple of rings. “Luke, I’m so glad you called,” he says before I can even utter a hello, sounding so relieved I’m talking to him again. “It’s been too long, but I was waiting for you to call like you said the last time we talked… I didn’t want to be too pushy anymore.”
“I didn’t call to talk,” I tell him, closing my eyes and pressing my fingers to the brim of my nose, feeling a headache coming on strong. “I… need a favor.”
“Oh.” The disappointment in his voice makes me feel bad, but at the same time causes rage to flare inside me for feeling guilty. “What did you need?”
I open my eyes and plop down on one of the barstools at the counter. “I need Uncle Cole’s number. I used to have his number but it got erased from my phone a while ago.”
“Oh. Okay. I can give you it.” He pauses. “But can I ask what you need it for?”
“No.”
“Luke, I… do you need some help with something.”
“No.” I know I’m being a douche bag, but I can’t seem to stop myself. What he took from me when he left me as a child, what he left me with, and what it did to my life—what it all stole from me, still aches like an unhealed wound. I have so much anger inside me, eating me away, bit by bit, because I can’t seem to let it go and just let the damn wound heal. “I just need his number.”
“If you need help… let me help you. I want to make up for stuff, Luke.”
“Then give me Cole’s phone number. That’s what will help me.”
He gets quiet again and I think he’s going to make this complicated, but then he surprises me and gives me the number which I hurry and punch in my phone. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” he asks when he’s finished.
“Okay then.” Now he sounds like the wounded Bambi. “Well if you need anything, you can always call me. I’m always here.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, then press end. Deep down, I know that my life might be easier if I just let go of the stuff between my father and I, but it’s difficult, especially when I barely understand it. I mean, I get why he left my mom, because he needed to find himself. Self-discovery. And he’s happy now with Trevor, his husband, at least it seems that way. I get the need to be happy, but why did he have to leave Amy and I behind? Couldn’t he have done all that with us?
“You okay?” Violet’s tone carries caution.
I nod, turning toward her, forcing myself to shake off what I’m feeling. “Yeah, I’m good… I’m going to try and call my uncle and see if I can go to Vegas and crash with him for a week.”
She lingers in the doorway. “You have an uncle that lives in Vegas?”
I nod. “But I barely know him. I’m just hoping he might do me a favor,” I say then dial his number.
After I call him up and have a five-minute conversation with him that mainly centers on gambling, he tells me, “Sure, come the f**k down here. We can totally hit up a few underground games and see what we can come up with.” He says it like he understands, which he probably does, since he’s a lot like me, only about fifteen years older. So I get up to go finish packing, while Violet stands in the doorway not uttering a word, but the worry in her eyes says a lot.
“What about school?” she finally asks as she shifts her weight.
My obsessive need tries to take me over, but I tell it to shut the f**k up. “I can miss a week. It’s not a big deal.” I add my container that carries the medicines for my diabetes into my bag.
“You always made it seem like a big deal,” she says, plopping down on the mattress beside my bag. “And trust me, if anyone gets that, I do.”
“I know you do,” I tell her, both loving and hating that we have so much in common; love because of how much I want to be with her and hate because of how much I want to be with her.
“Vegas is really far,” she says. “Can’t you do the gambling here?”
“No.” I keep my head tipped down, knowing if I look up and see her on the bed, I’m going to lose it and I need to focus right now. “I just need to get out and get some money made where no one knows my reputation. And I don’t want to be hanging out here with Seth and Greyson, while I’m cleaning up this mess. This is my mess not theirs.” I pick up my bag from the floor and swing it over my shoulder. “And it’s the only option I have at the moment.”
She bites at her fingernail, clearly nervous. “For how long?”