The Probability of Violet and Luke

Chapter 3

Luke

I’m bailing out on school. I can’t take it today, walking around in the same building, seeing her, wanting to touch her, kiss her, fuck her, do whatever I want with her. We were so close and all that desire and need was ripping through me, even though I’d just seen her kiss another guy five minutes ago. I wanted her more than anything. Right there in the hallway, in front of everyone. And I was drunk enough to try it. But then the professor walked by and broke our little moment. And I swear to God, it broke me as well.

I sit in the back row and watch her take notes the entire length of class and it’s pure torture. Finally, I decide that I need to get the hell out of here, so instead of heading to my next class, I leave the campus. I think about calling my best friend, Kayden Owens, and seeing what he’s up to, but I don’t really feel like having company. I feel like doing something that will distract me. Something reckless. Dangerous. Something that comes with risks, chances for trouble, fighting.

I go back to my apartment and grab my stash of cash, which I keep in my sock drawer. I’m up to three thousand bucks and start counting out half of it, but then take the whole damn thing with me. I stuff the stash into my pocket and then head out the door, but pause when I see that I forgot to put the copy of Amy’s journal away. It’s opened up to the page I was reading, before I had to put it down; the one where she starts to get depressed, right after Caleb raped her. If only we would have found this sooner, then maybe she could have gotten some help.

I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t feel this way. I just want to feel like a normal person again, not so sick and wrong on the inside. I want to feel like Amy again.

I shut the notebook and tuck it under the pillow, the thought haunting my mind as I stagger drunkenly out of the apartment and toward the condos on 5^th and Grove, knowing that despite the warm and welcoming appearance of the area, I’m going to a very dangerous place. I’ve heard stories about where I’m going, the things the guys are involved in, the consequences that come with screwing them over. But I don’t have the will to give a shit.

As I’m heading for the entrance door, my phone starts ringing inside my pocket and Kayden’s name flashes across the screen. I know if I answer it, he’s going to ask me why I missed class and if I’m coming to workout. When I say no, he’s going to start questioning me and I had enough questions from Seth this morning. So I send him to voicemail and finish the journey to the door. Before I enter into the lobby, I give Toverson—my connection—the guy who invited me to a game here a couple of weeks ago, a shout on the phone,

He answers after four rings. “What’s up?”

“Hey, it’s Luke.” I shield my eyes from the sun with my hand as I lean against the glass entrance door. “I think I want to take you up on your offer and sit in on a game.”

“Where you at?” he asks. I can hear voices in the background, sounds of poker chips clinking together, loud music. I crave to be there, crave the solitude it’ll give me like fucking women used to do before I met Violet.

“I’m actually downstairs, just outside the lobby.” I glance through the door at the security person sitting behind the desk, watching me like a hawk.

“You know about the high buy in, right?” he asks, the noise in the background fading. “It’s more than just the hundred like it is at Denny’s.”

“Yeah, I know. I brought three thousand with me.”

He pauses and seconds later I hear a door shut. The background noises go completely quiet. “No offense, but where’d you get that sort of cash?”

“I’ve been saving up.” I don’t bother telling him it’s all I have, since it’s none of his business.

“All right then, I’ll buzz you up,” he says but then pauses. “But just a little bit of warning. These guys up here don’t mess around like they do at Denny’s so be careful. You get caught doing anything they don’t like and they won’t just let you off with a slap on the hand.”

“I got it,” I say. He’s subtly warning me—don’t cheat or else you’re fucked.

I always cheat though and I have no plans of stopping now. It takes the thrill out of it and I need the thrill. Still, I pause for a moment, the alcohol in my system settling just enough for me to see through the haze and I almost chicken out, deciding that I might be getting in over my head when I see a guy three times my size open the door and greet me. But then the booze starts scorching through my veins again and I follow him inside and up to the second floor. When he opens the door and lets me in, I feel so much better. Tables, black, red, white, and blue chips. The smoke. The booze. Women everywhere. Danger. Risks. Suddenly I feel very content inside. All of my distractions—my addictions— are right in front of me and I want them all.

Violet

School drags by slower than usual. Maybe that’s because of my encounter with Luke. Or maybe it’s just because I know I’m going fishing when it’s over; fishing for a guy, who knows a lot of guys, who like to get high. I’d been upset at first when Preston asked me to do this on a Monday, but I decided after my spazz out with Luke, that maybe I needed a break from the reality of being stuck in my own head. Maybe I needed to be that girl again who dressed up, played the part, and didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything.

After my last class, I find the bathroom and slip into the outfit I keep in my bag for occasions like these. A short black dress that shows off my legs and top it off with red lipstick and glittery high heels. I look like a prostitute but that’s kind of the point. Seduction. I’m going to go through with it. I’m going to be that girl again.

I can do this,” I mutter to my reflection as I look in the mirror. But the girl in the mirror looks unconvinced. Taking a quick break, I turn away and lean against the sink to make a phone call I try to make at least once a week.

“Hello, Detective Stephner speaking,” he answers after two rings.

“This is Violet,” I say, shutting my eyes and crossing my fingers that maybe this will be the time he gives me good news. “Violet Hayes. I was just… checking in.”

As soon as he sighs, I know nothing has changed. “Violet, I know you want to know—and trust me we do to—but these things take time.”

“It’s been almost two months.”

“I know. We’re still working on getting the search warrant approved.”

“Can’t you move any faster?” I say more harshly than I planned. “Sorry, it’s just that it’s driving me crazy.”

“I know,” he replies. “And trust me, I’m not resting until it’s solved either. But I also need you to let me call you when something happens, instead of checking in.”

“Sorry for bugging you,” I mutter, opening my eyes.

“You’re not bugging me at all. I just want you to stop stressing about this and try to live a normal life,” he says. “And while we’re on the phone. How’s the texting from that reporter? Did he stop?”

“Yeah, he did,” I say, standing up straight and collecting my bag from the floor. “Thanks for getting that restraining order put on him.”

“Anytime.” There’s another pause and I know what’s coming before he says it. “What about Mira Price’s son? Have you talked to him at all since I brought him in for questioning?”

“Not really.” My chest starts to tighten, my lungs constricting and sucking away the air. Stop it. Turn it off.

“I think that’s for the better,” he says. “At least for now.”

I get what he’s saying, but it feels so wrong. For the better? If this is for the better, then why does it hurt so badly? “I have to go,” I say. “It’s time for my next class.”

“Okay,” he says. “And remember, call me if you need anything.”

But clearly he means call me only if you need something that doesn’t have to do with checking in.

After I hang up, I pull myself together and walk out of the bathroom confidently, ready to move on from the conversation and go fishing—a distraction. But the moment I step into the pond, I feel deflated, thinking about how much I’d rather be trying to drown myself instead of standing out in the campus yard, looking for a sucker. The longer I search the crowd, the more I just want to bail and deal with whatever punishment Preston’s going to give me. I’m not feeling it and I’m about to give up when my phone buzzes from inside my pocket.

I take it out and unlock the screen. A text from an unknown number. Not surprising. It happens all the time anymore.

Unknown: I know what happened to your parents.

And let the games begin. I shake my head, thinking of Stan, and some of the other calls and texts I’ve gotten since the news went public. I consider what I should text back.

Me: Yeah, I think everyone does anymore u moron. They were murdered. Thanks for reminding me though. That was super-duper nice of you.

I move to put my phone away but it buzzes in my hand. Sighing, I open the incoming message.

Unknown: But I know who did it.

I stop breathing as I read it over and over and for a brief, very gullible moment on my part I actually wonder if this person might know something, like maybe about Mira or the other person that was there that night. But at the end of my analysis, I decide that it’s probably just some god damn asshole, like Stan the reporter, and a few other one’s I’ve sporadically met during my few trips to the police station. I even received one phone call with someone bribing me with their information in exchange for a few gory details of what I saw that night. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that a reporter new more than the police and I do, so I told him where he could go fuck himself.

I’m about to text back and call the person out on when I hear someone say, “Are you Violet?”

There’s a guy standing in front of me and my entire body tenses as a million different thoughts race through my mind of who he could be. A reporter. The police. The other person who was there that night my parent’s where killed, although he looks too young for the latter.

He’s wearing a fancy pinstripe shirt with the sleeves rolled up, along with a pair of name brand jeans, and shoes shinier than my lip-gloss. “You are Violet, right?”

Despite my alarm, I don’t miss a beat, even though my heart does. “Why? What’s it to you?”

His lips spread to a slow smile as he sticks out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Roy. Preston told me I could probably find you down here and that you could hook me and some of my colleagues up.”

“He did, huh?” I say, relaxing. Preston knows my routine a little too well, I guess. Still I don’t appreciate the unannounced ambush. “Yeah, I’m her.”

His smile broadens, but his brows furrow when I won’t shake his hand. “Good, come with me.”

I don’t budge from my spot underneath the tree. “Yeah, I’m going to need to check with Preston before I go anywhere with some random dude who looks like he could be a lawyer and who could be setting me up.”

His smile falters, but then he relaxes and bobs his head up and down. “Yeah. Totally. I understand.”

“Give me a second.” I walk away from him, dialing Preston’s number when I reach out-of-hearing range.

“Hey beautiful.” Preston sounds like he might be high and having a party with all the background noise. “I was expecting your call.”

“Why? Because you sent some rich douche down here without telling me?” I say, glancing back at Roy who has his attention focused on a girl in a skirt bending over to pick up a paper she dropped and who’s totally flashing the entire campus yard.

“I was testing you,” he says simply. “I want to make sure we don’t have anymore screw ups in our future.”

I roll my eyes. “So did I pass or fail?”

“You passed,” he says and I can hear the grin in his voice. “Which means only good punishments for you tonight.”

My heart withers a little more—soon there won’t be anything left of it. “If it’s okay with you, and you’re test is over, I’ll get back to fishing.”

“No, Violet, you need to go with Roy,” he says, talking loudly over the music.

I press my finger to my ear so I can hear better. “Why? I thought it was a test?”

“A test yeah, but Roy has a connection to this underground poker game place in one of the more upper ends of Laramie and if we can impress him he might just make us his permanent dealers. Which is a good thing. Trust me. We’re getting in with the big timers.”

I try not to freeze up at the mention of underground poker, because I know Luke likes to hangout at those kinds of places and big timers are a lot different than dumbass college guys who think with their dicks. “I’m not sure I want to do this deal.”

“Violet, don’t fuck this up for me,” he says, his anger rising through his voice. “This is a great opportunity and if you’ll just act like your normal self, I know you can dazzle the shit out of them. Just make sure to give them whatever they want.”

“I’m not a whore,” I say, getting pissed. “I’m not going to fuck anyone.”

“I never said you had to, but I think you have it in you, if you had to,” he says. I’m about to yell at him, right in front of Roy when he adds, “Look, I’m sure no one expects you to fuck them or give them a blow job or anything. Just smile and show them your cleavage and I’m sure my product will seal the deal. You can save the fucking and blow jobs for me later. In fact, I’d kind of prefer it if you did.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and tell myself to shut it all down. Don’t feel a thing. “Fine, I’ll do it, but I swear to God if someone says something about you saying that I was going to take care of them, I’ll kick you in the balls when I get home.”

“I like it when you talk kinky to me,” he says with a deep chuckle. “Now get out there and make me happy then come back to me. I’m starting to miss you.”

I feel like I’m going to barf right here in front of everyone, all over the grass. I shake my head, annoyed, but still tell him okay, because I don’t really have a choice. Then I hang up and go back over to Roy, smiling as sweetly as I can. “All right Roy, where are we going?”

“Up on Fifth and Grove,” he says with a grin as his gaze lazily takes me in.

We start across the campus yard. It’s quiet between the two of us and I’m pretty content with it, but apparently Roy isn’t because he says, “So do you like playing Texas Hold’em?”

I shrug, trying not to think about the last time I played Texas Hold’em with Luke while he was wearing a towel. “It’s okay, I guess.”

He stops in front of a black Mercedes with tinted windows and shiny chrome trim. He aims the keys at it and it beeps, the lights flashing and the doors unlocking. “Well, if I were you, I’d pretend that you love it for tonight.”

I nod, getting his meaning. “Got it.”

We get into the car and he turns on the engine. Then he cranks the heat when he notices that I’m shivering a little from the chilly breeze outside. “You should have worn a jacket or something.” he remarks as he buckles the seatbelt.

I glance down at the goosebumps on my legs. “A jacket isn’t part of my uniform,” I tell him, bouncing my knees up and down, trying to warm up.

“Oh, gottcha,” he says as he pushes the shifter into reverse. “There’s some Vodka under the seat if you want a shot.” He backs up the car and straightens the wheel, then flashes me a grin. “It might warm you up.”

I’m about to decline, because I’m not a fan of drinking—it makes me too crazy and emotional—but then I remember what I’m supposed to be. And that if I do mess this up, then I mess up the little life that I have. So instead I put on my dazzling smile, the fake one I haven’t worn in a while, then reach under the seat, to take a shot, pretending to be okay, pretending I’m not drowning in a sea of pain. Pretending that I’m okay with being here, when I’m not.

It used to be so much easier to do this, float around in life, detached from everyone, including myself. But that was before I met Luke and discovered what it was like to be happy. And the worst part of it is knowing I’ll never have it again.