Page 46 of Castle's Cards

Court looks at me sympathetically before rifling through the papers on the desk in front of him. When he finds what he’s looking for he passes it over to me. I look down at the paper.

The page is decorated cheerfully, with balloons and bubbly writing.Play Poker to Help Fight Cervical Cancer!the big bubble letters proclaim. I blink, unsure how to process the information in front of me. The event is scheduled for a month from now.

“Cervical cancer?” I whisper before looking up at Court. He nods.

“Of course. We figured that it would be better to do it for a cause close to home. That’s why we want you to do promotional work for the event. If the public sees that this is a subject you care about, then we will likely have an amazing turnout. The publicity for the club will be great, too.”

Seeds of annoyance sow within me. Publicity for the club?

“You want me to talk about my wife dying, something that has destroyed me emotionally, so that you can get more publicity for the club?” I can’t stop the anger from seeping into my words. Court blinks and shakes his head.

“Carter, that’s not what I meant. All I meant is that we’ll have a better turnout if people see that this is personal for us…”

“No. It’s not personal forus. It’s personal forme.My wife died. Not yours. Not mom. And you want me to go blab about it on the radio and on television so that the club’s image is improved. Do you realize how fucked up that is? How much that cheapens my grief?”

I stand up indignantly, crumbling up the flier and tossing it back to my brother. “Count me out of your stupid charity. I don’t want anything to do with itorthe club.”

I storm out of the office, slamming the door behind me. The sound of my anger is drowned out by the regular sounds of the club; glasses clinking and people laughing with loud music pumping behind us. I look around the room. No one seems to have noticed how angry I was when I left Court’s office. My eyes flit to the poker table where I’ve been seated. My seat is empty, everyone resuming play. But I’m not going to rejoin the game.

I’m not going to give this club my business when my brother expects me to exploit my wife and her death for his own gain. Anger tugs the sides of my mouth down again. I storm toward the exit.

On my way I glance at Addy who continues to work the room and make the players comfortable. Her eyes meet mine and then widen at my expression. The anger on my face must be especially evident. I don’t stop to say anything to her, though. The last thing I want is to lash out at her when she doesn’t deserve it.

When I get out of the club I make a beeline for my car and get in. But I don’t immediately drive away. Instead, I place my hands on the wheel and take deep breaths. It’s something that I used to do with Elise to calm down. She always knew exactly what to do or say when I was upset or angry.

“Elise? What should I do?” I ask out loud, tipping my head back against the seat in anguish. With the fading anger I’m coming to the realization that Court would obviously not see his request as exploiting Elise or her memory. “Send me a sign. Anything that tells me what to do next.”

A knock on my window causes me to jump. When I turn, Addy is leaning down and looking in at me. I smile with embarrassment. As much as I don’t want to admit that her knocking scared me a just a bit, it would be silly to deny it.

“You want to roll down the window?” she smiles.

“I’ll do you one better.” I press the unlock button on the door. “Hop in.”

“I still have half a shift to work, you know.”

“Just for a chat.”

Addy concedes and walks around the car to get in. When the door is closed she turns to look at me.

“So, what’s wrong?” Addy asks.

“How do you know something is wrong?”

Addy wrinkles her brow and looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Come on. You lookedpissedwalking out of there. How could I not know?”

I sigh and shake my head. My gaze goes to the front of the club where a few people are walking in.

“I just had a meeting with Court. He wants to do a benefit night to raise money for cervical cancer. He wants me to speak and do press for the benefit and talk about my wife.”

When I turn to look at Addy, her expression is perplexed.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“It just feels like I’m betraying her by using her memory to gain publicity for the club.” I shake my head. I know it sounds idiotic, but it doesn’t change the way I feel.

Addy smiles and caresses my cheek before responding.

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