Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Bright sunlight makes me wince the moment I open my eyes, and I marvel at the fact that I didn’t have any nightmares while I slept. It takes me a while to grope through the fogginess of sleep to understand why I feel so excited.

I try to untangle the web of confusing images of last night and I’m almost sure that I woke up from a very bizarre dream until I grab my black clutch and peek inside.

Yep. It’s still there. Three thousand bucks.

My mouth dry, I put it back on my desk and sink into my covers. Lord knows I need the money. He didn’t seem like such a bad guy. I just want to make a little bit of money over the summer, and then I’ll quit and it’ll all be behind me.

You get panic attacks when you hear strange noises outside your dorm. Why the hell do you want to mingle with a bunch of mobsters?

My throat constricts, scenes from Casino flashing through my mind. Bludgeoned bodies rolled in holes in the desert.

It just never seemed real to me. All of it was fiction, make-believe, only pretend. It was all too extraordinary. Maybe they’re not really violent. Maybe they’re more like crooked businessmen.

Slipping from my bed, I walk carefully on the wooden floorboards until I reach my closet. I desperately need a shower to wash the vestiges of makeup from my face. A row of tired-looking clothes greets me.

Man, I’m tired of dressing like shit, wearing the same thing week after week because Mom sucks all my money. I’m tired of never doing a damn thing for myself.

I’m going out today and I’m going to buy something new, something that isn’t from the goddamn thrift store. I want makeup, new shoes, dresses, and jeans. It’s taken me until now to realize that they’re necessities, and the fact that I don’t have any of them makes it okay for me to spend a little on myself. All I need is a couple hundred dollars to go shopping. I can’t put this money in the bank yet, so I’ll spend some of it. Why not? I deserve it, for fuck’s sake.

A part of me wants to look good for him for the next card game. I’m glad Maria can’t see my face, because it looks like a ripe tomato.

“You’re not like most girls your age.”

I smile at the memory, my skin heating as I remember how it felt to be so close to him. He’s so different from other guys. Vince strikes me as a guy who knows what he wants and takes it without waiting for it to come to him.

There’s a reason why he’s so different, you idiot.

If I had a healthy brain, I would give him a wide berth.

After showering, Maria’s still asleep, so I write her a note telling her where I’ve gone. When I come back from shopping, almost four hours later, Maria is sitting at her desk. Her dark hair is pulled up into a loose bun and there are dark circles under her eyes.

I’ve had a pretty damn good day. I can barely get through the door with all the bags I have around my wrists and Maria stares as I stumble inside. Humming happily, I start hanging up the dresses from Guess. They’re beautiful, sexy dresses that I would have never bought for myself, but I’ve a renewed confidence in myself. I spent a little bit more than I should have, but everything was on sale. New shoes, new tops, new everything. I needed them.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

“Tell me you didn’t spend that money,” Maria croaks.

I pause in the middle of hanging a hot pink dress. Maria looks terrible. Her normally glowing skin is pale, but then again, I probably look worse. “Yeah, I did. So what?”

She sighs and shakes her head like I’ve just made a grave error.

“I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion. I’ll be dealing cards. The only difference between what I’ll be doing and the casinos is that one’s legal and one’s not.”

“It’s blood money, Adriana.”

My insides twist. “Well, what about corporations that use their profits to fund terrorist groups and hate groups and-”

“This isn’t Chick-fil-A!” she roars. “This is the Italian Mafia, you know, I’ll murder you in your sleep if you step out of line kind of thing.”

I continue hanging up my clothes, my face partially hidden by a new pair of jeans. “He doesn’t-he wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh my God, Adriana. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

My shoulders sag as her voice cracks, striking me to my core. She’s right. Of course, she’s right. How the hell could I ever convince myself that I could work alongside murderers and thieves and who knows what else? But I stare at all the beautiful clothes I just bought; all of it would have been impossible if it weren’t for last night.

“I’m tired of being poor.”

My eyes slowly fill with tears when I realize I’m back to square one. I hear the sound of Maria’s body getting up from the chair and her eyes are shining with tears when she pulls me into a hug.

“I know, honey, but you’re in Columbia. Whatever you do after this, you’ve got it made. You don’t need this illegal gambling shit on your record.”

Somehow, my throat thickens even more when she says that. Really, I was stupid. I had fun for one night, but that’s all it was ever going to be. One night.