Page 16 of Poker
After agreeing, I walk the rest of the way to my Honda Civic, the car I use for everything other than attending my poker games, and toss my stuff into the trunk.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into the warehouse lot and park near the front entrance. I grab the cleaning supplies and carry them to the door, digging through my purse for my second set of keys as I do. When I lift my gaze, I frown.
Taped to the door is an envelope with ‘Mistress Green’ scrawled on the outside. I drop my bags to the ground and yank it free. When I open it and pull out the piece of paper, my frown deepens, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
Mistress Green-
It is with great displeasure that I pen this note. I hope, given time, you will realize that you put your trust in people far beneath you. What must a man do to gain your favor? So far, it seems the only requirement is being a thug with horrible taste in attire. I won’t beg for your affection or attention, but know this… If you don’t start making better choices in the company you keep, you will suffer.
-N
Crumbling the paper in my fist, I shove it and the envelope into the bag of supplies and unlock the door. I stride into the large main area of the building and dump everything onto the bar. Needing to distract myself, I get to work.
By the time Poker arrives fifteen minutes later, I’m a sweaty mess, and my hair is piled on top of my head in a messy bun. I’ve been mopping the floor meticulously from one side of the space to the other, and I’m only halfway done.
“Damn, you weren’t kidding about cleaning,” he quips as he sets the pizza box on the bar.
“Nope,” I say, my tone clipped, focusing on an invisible spot on the floor.
Poker grabs a slice of pizza and walks toward me as he takes a bite. “What’s wrong?” he asks when he reaches my side. “Did something happen?”
I stop mopping and lean on the mop, huffing out a breath. “Nothing happened. I’m fine.”
He stares at me a moment before nodding. “Okay. Why don’t you take a quick break and eat while it’s hot?”
The scent of melted cheese and tomato sauce hits me, sending my stomach into another round of rumbling. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
He follows me to the bar where we both stand and eat silently. Once half the large pizza is gone, I close the box and take a deep breath.
“So, wanna try this again?” Poker asks.
I glance at him. “Try what again?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reply automatically.
“Bullshit. Talk to me, Meri,” he presses. “Because when I left you at the hardware store, you were in a great mood, and now…” He shrugs.
“It’s nothing, Poker,” I insist halfheartedly.
“Again, I call bullshit. C’mon, we’re friends, right?” I nod. “So, talk to me.”
Sensing that he’s not going to let this go, I sigh and reach into the bag where I stuffed the crumbled letter.
“This was on the door when I got here,” I say after handing it to him.
Poker smooths out the paper and scans the words, his eyes sparking fire by the time he’s done. “What the fuck?”
“Neero must’ve been more pissed than I realized last night.”
“I don’t give a rat's ass about his feelings,” he barks. “This is a threat, and I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” I admit. “I’m so mad I could…”
He levels his gaze on me and smirks. “You could what? Put your murder kit to use?”
His remark has the intended effect, and I burst out laughing. How is it that this man can make me laugh when I’m madder than I ever remember being?
