Page 35 of A Scandal in Homeroom
Atlantic City was only an hour and a half drive from here, where all of these people could play for as long as they wanted, completely above the law. Under bright lights, with oxygenated air and the sound of slot machines echoing in the background. While waitresses brought them free, watered-down drinks.
That wasn’t even taking into consideration playing online from the comfort of home. Where they could pour their own damn drinks.
However, that wasn’t the experience they wanted.
These people wanted to play in person. Here, where twinkle lights were draped around the pipes and the walls were covered in red satin. Here, where the room was dim and mostly quiet. Here, where they were amongst their own. The booze was top shelf. We’d added red and white wine for the adults.
The servers were sexy. The allure of doing something a little sinister was an added spike of adrenaline for them. I catered to that feeling with the special invites and the secret passwords.
This wasn’t a game for any old shlub who could drive to A.C. or play online poker with strangers.
No, this was a special game. A unique experience. With just a hint of danger.
Except…something was off at table six.
I scanned the room for Coyle and found him by the makeshift bar in the corner, stocking bottles. Not that he would do me any good. He didn’t know enough about the game so it was unlikely he would be able to articulate what I was seeing.
I needed someone with a brain. I needed…
Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him.
Too late.
Locke was now firmly planted in the center of my brain. I hadn’t spoken to him since we kissed. I couldn’t move my seat in Chemistry, so I had to sit behind him in class every day, looking at the back of his head, desperate to know what he was thinking.
There were no notes, no texts. He’d stopped coming around the lunch table, too.
We were effectively over before we’d even begun.
That was on me. Because I was not brave.
I was broken.
What did he think of me? Or had I been dismissed from that large brain of his already? A novelty that had lost his interest.
Except I didn’t think so. Instead, I actually believed I’d hurt his feelings with my abrupt shut down of our…whatever it was we were. There was no evidence of this, of course. It’s not like he walked the halls of our school with red-rimmed eyes. It was just a feeling I got when our paths did cross.
Or maybe that was coming from me. Because I was sad. Because I missed our notes, and I missed the feeling I had when I was with him.
What if I explained all of it to him? My mom, what it was like living in a state-run home.
My obsession with money.
Coyle said there was no getting out of this game until Moriarty was ready to let me go. But if I told Locke everything, could he help me?
My eyes drifted back to table six. Dr. Sheffield was going all in again. From this distance, I couldn’t see what was in his hand, I could only see they weren’t face cards. As there were only two people in the pot, the dealer played out the hand and Dr. Sheffield lost. Then he immediately reached for his wallet and started pulling out more cash.
I never asked how much money anyone brought to the game. Only that all chips must be paid for in cash, and you had to have all the money you wanted already on your person. No back-and-forth trips to the ATM that might alert someone to the comings and goings at Thornfield Home.
That was it, I thought. That was the thing niggling in the back of my brain. Dr. Sheffield bought another thousand dollars in chips. It was his fifth buy-in of the night. Something that normally wouldn’t have alerted me. These people had money to burn. If they got sucked into the gambling vortex, that was their problem.
What I didn’t like happening at table six was that Sheffield had lost all his money to the same player. Almost like it was pre-arranged.
A player who had shown up with an invite I hadn’t sent him. Moriarty had.
Why use an illegal poker game to pay off a debt? It’s not like you could write off the loss on your taxes.
Or maybe the question I should be asking: Why was Beth Bennet’s father back in Haddonfield, playing in a rigged game with Dr. Sheffield, and Beth didn’t know about it?
