High Card Bluff (House of Cards Series 5)

(4) Of Parlors and Spiders

Tom had actually managed to stay out of trouble and catch up on his sleep before the end of the week. He hadn't heard any news for the weekend, and had yet to figure out how to tell his mother he'd burned his bridges without throwing the brat under the bus. It'd make his life easier to lay the blame at her feet, but considering her little escapade into the seedy world had already given her a literal black eye he didn't want to add a metaphorical one too.

So he just didn't tell his mother the strange frequency he was finding himself encountering Adrianna, or even that things had gone sour, and instead focused on trying to work his day job as hard as his night one. Somehow working as a server in a goth bar with a dance club upstairs felt a lot less satisfying at almost 24 than it had at 20, though this week it gave him a gift.

The bufón that had brought Dri to such a potentially dangerous situation, and then had the bad taste to hit her, walked into his bar on Wednesday when Nate had the day off. There was a god and he apparently appreciated the vengeance on Tom's mind to give him this; he was covered in enough fake blood that the real thing would blend right in. Sure, the brat had said she'd handled it, but Tom couldn't help but need to fuck with the man even more. He sat at a booth, alone for a moment, and Tom slid into the empty seat across. The bufón recognized him even with the costuming.

"You were at Jerred's races," he sounded annoyed, not alarmed but that would soon change. "Adrianna went home with you, what do you want?" Now he sounded cautious, good.

"You hit her," Tom was far too calm sounding for the violent storm within, but somehow the rage turned his voice low and steady.

Now the man's eyes went wide, his body tucked to protect the vulnerable bit instinctively, "Listen, I didn't know she was your girl when I brought her there, and I sure as hell didn't know Jerred would play me like that. She left me in a bad place and they let me know it man, all she had to do was help me!"

It was far too complicated to explain to the bufón what Tom and Dri really were, so he left the mistake alone. "You got yourself into that situation, and then tried to sell Dri to save your ass; you're lucky that failed because the things I would do to you if I had found out otherwise would make the films here look tame." the almost friendly reference to the horror flicks endlessly playing did not settle the man's agitation.

"Listen," The bufón bravely interrupted Tom's building threat, "she's already told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from her, and my balls still hurt so you can trust I will whenever I can." Good for the brat. "I won't hit her ever again, and outside of having to work together, I won't touch her at all or talk to her, okay?" he carefully got out of the booth and Tom mirrored him, seeing Wade the bartender looking furious at him.

"Don't even touch her then," he knew he was crossing a line the brat wouldn't thank him for, but how she'd flinched at the shot kept going through his mind. "You find yourself on a job with her, I expect you to remove yourself." The man gave him a disbelieving look, as if to see if Tom was joking. "Jesus Christ man, fine. I won't go anywhere near her, just leave me alone." he turned and walked out, having seen something on Tom's face to convince him that the danger was real.

"What the hell was that?" Wade demanded at seeing a possible customer on their slow day chased away.

Not in in the frame of mind to explain even to his friend, Tom used the excuse the bufón had, "He put violent hands on my girl."

The surprised look Wade gave him had more to do with the lack of corpse than hearing Tom had a girlfriend. Nate had been the one to avoid commitment, until Grace. "Fuck man, go take a smoke break then come back less crazy."

Tom didn't argue, having enjoyed putting the bufón in his place, but still unsettled about the entire situation. He stomped out to the employee parking in the back, digging into the glove compartment before realizing he'd smoked his emergency joint with the brat already. "Goddammit!" he savagely swore even while carefully gentle with the car. If he damaged the Supra, he'd have to be the one to fix it.