You've Got Fail Page 20

  “I wish you’d let me in on that little secret.”

  “You had to find out for yourself.”

  I pinned her feet between mine. “For a girl who’s gotten herself in 50k deep with the mob, you sure are wise sometimes.”

  “About that.”

  I groaned. “What am I going to do now?”

  “You mean ‘we.’ What are ‘we’ going to do now.”

  “Yeah, what you said.”

  “I don’t know.” She let out her falling-asleep sigh. “But whatever it is, we’ll do it together.”

  I wiped my eyes as she dozed off. Pauly would be here in two days. We were out of options. If we ran, he’d catch us. If we stayed, Hannah would have to go back to work for him. I’d never allow it. But there was one more option. I could go to work for Pauly. Though I couldn’t count cards, I could read people, get an idea of their tells and their demeanor. If I could glean enough information about his regular players, I wouldn’t need to count; I’d be able to read them more clearly than the cards in their hands. At least, that was my hope. It was all I had.

  My eyes finally closed, though only one image came to mind as I drifted to sleep. Willis, his Clark Kent glasses askew, as he stared down at me. I ran to the dream, desperate to be folded in his embrace, but he disappeared and slipped through my fingers like smoke.

  26

  Willis

  The banging on my door intensified the ache in my head. Not cool. I lay sideways across my mattress, an empty bottle of vodka on the floor next to my nightstand. Last night hadn’t ended well, though the very end was just a drunken haze of talking to myself, debating over whether to crawl over to Scarlet’s house, and finally passing out.

  Bang, bang. The fuck was going on at my front door? I stood, though the floor shifted under my feet, and I dropped back onto the bed. I began to suspect I was still drunk. More banging spurred me to try again, and I managed to make it to the front door after a few stumbles on the ever-moving floor.

  “Whoisit?” That may have been a sentence.

  “Jason. Open up.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I leaned my forehead against the door and tried to think of a good answer. Nothing came to mind. “Touché.” I twisted the lock and pulled the door open.

  Jason strode in looking like a dressed-down Commander Reptilian. He had a brown grocery bag under one arm and set it down on the kitchen counter.

  I saluted him in the proper Vocknar fashion, three fingers on the left side of my nose.

  He shook his head and plopped down on my sofa. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” I closed the door and sank into a side chair. “What are you doing here?”

  “I figured you needed some assistance.”

  Did Commander Reptilian’s clairvoyant powers transfer to Jason during filming? “How did you know?” I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

  “Let’s see. After you told me the entire backstory, you continued getting more and more loopy as you drained a bottle of what you described as ‘rotgut vodka, the cheap shit you can get at the drugstore.’” He pulled out his phone and began to read. “I’m just so bummed. How did I let her get to me like this? What was I thinking?” He glanced up. “I’m just going to skip to some of the later ones, since they got funnier as you got drunker.”

  “I don’t remember texting you.” I cradled my head in my hands.

  “Do you know she smells like vanilla? She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. Do you think she stares at herself naked in the mirror? If I were her, I would. I’d touch myself, too. Tell me how pretty I am like Buffalo Bill in “Silence of the Lambs.” I miss her. She tricked me. I’m Scarlet Rocket. Did you know Rocket means my dick? I miss her. She’s evil, right? But she doesn’t seem evil. She seems wonderful, and beautiful, and feels so good. And she thinks I’m Superman. Can I be your second in command instead of First Lieutenant ScaleyThorn? Sometimes I question his allegiance since his mother was half vampire and all. Do you think Scarlet will come back? That’s not even her real name. I love her.”

  I groaned into my palms. “Thank god it’s over.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, there’s more. Have I ever told you that I had a poster of you with the Vampire Empress over my bed and one time I—”

  “Please, stop.” Vomit seemed like the only option at this point. That or seppuku.

  Laughing, he stowed his phone and rose to rummage through the grocery bag. “Suffice it to say, I enjoyed your texts. I checked them whenever Tiffany and Villena gave me a break. I figured you’d need a particularly potent hangover tonic this morning.” He pulled out some Gatorade, Tylenol, and bread. “Got any hair of the dog?”

  “I drank it all.”

  “Respect.”

  “I should have talked to her more, heard her out. I was just, I don’t know, stunned that she’d been planning it all along.”

  “She’s a complicated woman.” He pulled out what looked like a ginger root and some sort of herbal tea packets. “Now we need a game plan to get her back.”

  “What?” I rubbed my eyes and stared at him.

  “You need her back. Your texts were painful, man. She’s the only cure for what you’ve got.”

  “Even though she tried to con me.” Was I agreeing or disagreeing?

  “Sure.” He walked over and handed me the open Gatorade and a couple of Tylenol. “But she didn’t. Instead, she ratted herself out at the last minute. That takes guts. Especially if she needed the money to help her sister get out of trouble with some guy from Rocky?”

  “What?” I downed the Tylenol with a swig of Gatorade.

  “I don’t know. One of your texts said the Rocky guy was after Scarlet and her sister.”

  “Pauly.” My neurons fired in a sloppy dance. “His name’s Pauly. Her sister owes him fifty-thousand dollars.”

  Jason whistled and slipped some bread into my toaster. “That’s some real cheese right there.”

  “Her sister is a savant. She can count cards. I think that’s how she got in trouble with Pauly. Something to do with her abilities.”

  “She can count cards? No shit.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, muscles popping all over the place.

  “Scarlet can read people. That’s her talent. She’s great at figuring out what makes people tick and then going after it.”

  The toast popped up, and Jason grabbed the slices, tossing them in the air and catching them while saying, “hot, hot, hot” before laying them on a paper towel and bringing them to me.

  “If she can read people, her talents are wasted with petty crime.” He sat on the couch and tapped his fingers on his chin while I nibbled at the toast. “I think I’m having a thought.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, but I need to think on it more before I can tell if it’s a real thought or not.”

  “That made my head hurt more.”

  “Eat your toast.”

  My phone rang, but it was in the bedroom, and I wasn’t interested.

  “Want me to get it?” Jason offered.

  “No. It’s probably Elias. He’s the only person who has boundary issues enough to call me.”

  “Okay.” He popped open a Gatorade and drank half the bottle in one go.

  The phone fell silent, but started ringing again in seconds.

  “I’ll get it.” He popped up and walked into my bedroom. “It’s Linda.”

  “The fuck? It’s way too early for her to be calling.”

  “Dude, it’s noon. She’s probably already had half a bottle of McCallan.”

  “Good point.” I took the phone from him and hit the answer button.

  “Willis?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What the hell happened last night? Why is Jina Feinstein from the New York Daily News running an exposé on Scarlet Rocket and outing you as the real writer? What the hell did you do last night?” When her voice went into slurry, screechy territory, I held it
away from my ear.

  Jason took it from me. “Linda, it’s Jason. No—no—” He rolled his eyes. “No, we aren’t lovers.”

  Drunken inner fanboy squee.

  “I’m just over here trying to help him get his life together. Hey man, eat your toast… Calm down, Linda.”

  “My life is over.” I took a bite, crumbs spewing all around me. “The blog is”—I stared at my toast—“toast, and the book is going to tank.”

  Jason walked into my bedroom and shut the door. He talked to Linda for a good five minutes as I sank into a pit of deep, sticky despair. I demolished the toast and drained the Gatorade.

  When Jason reappeared, I only had one question. “How bad is it?”

  He dropped my phone on the coffee table then relaxed on the couch. “Linda was slurring more than usual.”

  “Great.”

  “She said she doesn’t know what the fallout will be, but that you should ‘hang onto your ass.’”

  “That’s it?”

  He looked at the ceiling. “The word ‘ruined’ was thrown around a lot. Then she said Milli Vanilli ended just as badly, then added that one of them died from the shame.”

  “I don’t think that’s what killed him.”

  “She also said for you to sit tight while she does damage control.” He shook his head. “But that’s what we’re not going to do.”

  “Right.” The toast and Gatorade were making a dent in my hangover, my mind clearing enough to register the pain of losing Scarlet. “I have to get her back.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He clapped his hands. “Now go get cleaned up, and we’ll head over to her place.”

  My phone rang again. “Shit, there can’t be more bad news.” I leaned over and saw Scarlet’s name pop up. I itched for her, needed to hear her voice no matter what she’d done.

  “Go ahead, man.”

  I snatched the phone and answered it. “Scarlet.”

  “Willis.” Her voice was thin, trembling. “Pauly took Hannah.”

  “What?”

  “He came by the apartment while I was out getting lunch and took her.”

  “We should call the police—”

  “No!” Her voice rose. “We can’t. He might hurt her. I think I know where she is. Will you help me get her back? I’m sorry, but I don’t have anyone else.”

  “I’m coming over.” I rose and dashed into my bedroom. “Stay put.”

  “Okay. Please hurry…and thank you.” The phone went silent as I pulled on a fresh t-shirt.

  “Sounds like we’re the cavalry,” Jason called from the living room.

  Another knock on my front door sounded as I grabbed my glasses. “Who’s that?”

  “Hey.” Elias’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “I figured he needed hangover remedy.”

  Elias laughed. “You got the drunk texts, too?”

  “So many drunk texts.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t that many,” I yelled from the bedroom.

  “It was a lot,” Elias called back. “What’s going on?”

  “Rescue mission. Pauly took Hannah. We’re going to rescue her.”

  “Someone took Hannah?” Elias’s voice dropped, anger coloring his words. “I’ll kill that fucker.”

  “This Pauly guy is dangerous. You don’t have to come. Neither of you.” I finished dressing and pulled on my shoes, hopping back into the living room. I didn’t question my need to get to her, to do whatever I could to help her. It was some sort of innate link, an unbreakable tie that led me back to Scarlet despite her subterfuge.

  “Danger?” Jason stretched. “Hell yeah I’m coming.”

  “Me too.” Elias mean-mugged.

  “No, I mean really dangerous. Like ‘The Sopranos’ kind of danger.”

  “That was a good show.” Jason followed me out the front door and into the elevator. “You think Tony got popped at the end?”

  “Whoa! Spoiler warning next time.” I held up a hand. “I haven’t watched all the seasons yet.”

  “That show ended years ago.” Elias scoffed. “Any time limit for spoilers has long since expired.”

  I secretly agreed, but grumbled all the way down.

  The taxi ride seemed to take years, each red light taunting me. The string that tied me to her stretched tighter with each passing moment, demanding that I move faster, try harder. If I could have run to her, I would have.

  When we finally reached her apartment, I jumped from the cab and rushed up the stairs. “Scarlet!” I banged on her door. It swung open with ease, and I found Scarlet standing just inside, a kitchen knife in her hand. She dropped it onto the counter when she saw me and rushed into my arms. Nothing had ever felt so right. All the drama, the worry, the fear dropped away, and there was just the two of us.

  I held her close. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Her tears made my own eyes water.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” I stroked her hair. “I promise we’ll figure this out.”

  She shook, sobs breaking up her speech. “I fucked up with you, then Pauly came to collect, and I wasn’t able to protect Hannah.”

  “He won’t hurt her. He needs her for his card games, right?”

  She nodded against me. “Yeah.”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “I’ll tell Pauly I’ll work for him. Or make another deal. Something. But I won’t sacrifice Hannah.” Her voice grew stronger. “I won’t.”

  “No one’s working for Pauly.” I wasn’t sure how I was going to solve the problem, but I was completely sure that, after today, neither Scarlet nor her sister would have anything to do with that lowlife.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey.” I pulled her chin up and looked into her red-rimmed eyes. “No more apologies. That’s over. Done. I forgive you.”

  “But I was going to—”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you did.” I wiped her tears away. “I love you, Scarlet.”

  Her eyes widened. “Daphne. My name’s Daphne.”

  I smiled so hard I worried my face might crack. “Daphne.” I tasted her name, teasing the edges of it with my tongue. “I like it. Daphne.”

  “It’s me.” She shrugged. “And I love you, too.”

  I kissed her. My Daphne. She wrapped her arms around me and softened, her body warming against mine as I tasted the salty tears on her lips. She opened her mouth, and I cupped the back of her neck. She was mine, and I was hers. Our breaths melded, my heart beating for her as we kissed. I forgot about my career being in shambles, forgot about the danger swimming around us like sharks. All I could think about was her, this amazing woman in my arms. The one who’d stolen my wallet, my heart, and my soul.

  “Sorry to break up the make-out sesh, but don’t we have a damsel to rescue?” Jason walked in and stopped, mainly because there was no room for him to go any farther since Scar—Daphne and I took up all the space in the tiny entryway.

  Daphne broke our kiss. “Right. Hannah.” She grabbed the knife.

  “Hang on there, slasher.” Jason held a hand out. “Let’s try to talk to the guy first. Besides, I get the feeling you’d be bringing a knife to a gun fight.”

  “Come on. Let’s go.” Elias hovered in the hallway.

  “Did you bring an army?” Daphne seemed hopeful.

  “Just these two knuckleheads.”

  “Maybe it’ll help.” She didn’t sound too sure as she led the way down the stairs and struck off to the right.

  “Do we need to call a cab?”

  “No. It’s four blocks.”

  We hustled through the neighborhood under a cloudy sky.

  Tension rippled in the air, and I took Daphne’s hand in mine. “She’s going to be okay.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I’m done with him terrorizing us. We don’t have the money. We have no way to get the money. And that’s that.”

  “Is he the sort of guy that can be reasoned with?” Elias asked
.

  She shook her head, her red hair trailing behind her as we approached a row of brick apartments. “He’s an asshole.”

  “Good. Then we speak the same language.” Elias was practically bowed up, his Rolling Stones t-shirt giving only a hint about the newfound badass underneath.

  “Take it down a notch, brother.” Jason put a hand on his shoulder. “Cooler heads need to prevail.”

  “Let me do the talking.” Daphne dropped down a few steps to a basement apartment with a thick metal door. She knocked, her knuckles barely making a sound against the rusty entrance.

  After a few moments, a grate slid open at eye-level. “What?” A gruff voice.

  “We need to see Pauly.”

  “You come to play?”

  “No.”

  “Then get the fuck out of here.”

  “Wait.” I stepped up next to Scarlet. “I’ll play.”

  “You bring cash?”

  Shit. I’d run out of my apartment without my wallet. Jason’s hand appeared over my shoulder, a fat money clip in his grasp. “I did. Should be enough for all of us to get a seat, at least.”

  The man behind the door laughed. “You can sit at the kiddie table, lose your money, then leave.”

  “Sounds fine to me.” Jason pocketed his money clip.

  The door creaked open, and we walked into a smoky underground hallway. A disgusting bathroom opened to the left, and a wide room sat to the right. Three tables were set up, two of them full of men talking and gambling. Hannah stood at the nearest table, dealing cards. Who I assumed was Pauly watched over her shoulder. He looked mid-forties, the black hair on his head graying with a shiny bald patch in the center. Round at the middle, he had the body type of a man who used to be all muscle, but let it go to fat as he aged.

  Hannah didn’t take her eyes off her work, but Pauly puffed on his cigar and glanced at Daphne. He walked around the table and met us in the doorway. “Time’s up.”

  “I had another day.”

  “You got the money?” He blew a stream of smoke into my face, but kept his eyes on Daphne.

  I balled my hands into fists, ready to knock the shit out of him or die trying.

  “No, but I don’t want Hannah working here.”