Win Or Lose

Part 1

#Freeze Dried Fiction     Contest Entry     Margaret Atwood FreezeDriedFiction Contest

     “Nobody knows . . . . “ the voice in his head was relentless, chanting, over and over, distracting him from the wild blonde creature writhing around underneath him.

      “Nobody knows where I am. Nobody knows I’m at the Silver Knight Motel, in bed with a black widow, a serious black widow.” 

       “Nobody knows where I am. . . . . .”

       The ring tone jangled his nerves. He had thrown his coat across the back of a chair, with his cell phone shoved into the pocket. He pulled loose from the long arms and legs that were wrapped around him. 

     “I gotta catch that, baby. It might be my partner. He’s expecting me to check in today.”

     The room was dark and Sam stepped to the bathroom door and flipped on the bathroom light. It was Gwyn calling. He cancelled the call, then put the phone to his ear.

     “Hey, Ned, what’s up, buddy?”  An appropriate pause, then,

     “Yeah, I’m at the Silver Knight, in the bar. I’ve already got a buyer for the stuff in one of the units. We’re having a drink, talking business.”

     “Yeah, it’s an interesting lot, for sure. Give me an hour or so, and I’ll get back to you. I’ll let you know if we’re going to need the van. I’ll be calling you back, within the hour, for sure.”

     Sam pretended to end the call and turned back toward the darkened room. The jilted bride was sitting on the edge of the bed, adjusting her clothes and dabbing away a spot of blood from her lower lip. She lit a cigarette, took a long drag and passed it to Sam. He sat down next to her and stared glumly at the glowing red ember.

     “I quit. I quit these cancer sticks, like five months ago.”

     She didn’t answer. Sam put the cigarette between his lips and drew the smoke deep into his lungs. He coughed, choked and wiped at his watery eyes. 

     The girl laughed, a brittle sound, without humor, or mercy. She reached around Sam and took the cigarette back.

     “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. You didn’t really suggest to ‘Ned’ that he drive over here. The roads will be too bad, and you and I both know it.”

     They sat, side by side, in the dark. The bride finished the cigarette, then turned around to face Sam.

     “So, what’s your name, anyway?”

     “Sam.”

     “Just Sam?  Don’t you have a last name, or is that a secret?”

     “Just Sam.  What’s your name?”

     “Olivia. Olivia Dawson. And yes, it’s my real name. So, Sam, just Sam, would you like to know what really happened to Clyde?”

     “Would you like to tell me?” Sam let his voice slide down into the velvety tone, the one that usually worked so well. He rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand. He was starting to regret having interrupted their private party to take a fake call from Ned. Sitting quietly like this, staring at him with those deep hazel eyes, Olivia looked less like a black widow and more and more like an angelic innocent. But she couldn’t be – not innocent. She was dangerous. Clyde could vouch for that, if Clyde weren’t dead, that is. He would have to take care not to let himself drift into the depths of those eyes. 

     Olivia waited until Sam got squirmy, then she took a deep breath and turned to face him squarely.

     “Clyde wasn’t my fiancée. He was my brother. He’s the one who was jilted on his wedding day. He had been diagnosed with depression, on top of some other emotional problems he had been having. He wasn’t in very good shape emotionally. My almost sister-in-law to be got cold feet. I think she was a little afraid of Clyde. He really was a strange duck, sometimes, and then at other times he was just the best. The best friend, the best brother a person could have. No one understood him like I did. Our parents . . . . ., well, let’s just say they weren’t exactly the healthiest role models you could have for parents.  Anyway, Jill, her name was Jill, failed to show up at the wedding. I found Clyde a few hours later, in the garage at our parents’ house. He was hanging from the rafters. I was too late to save him.”