Out of Aces (5 page)

Irina called exactly when I knew she would: five minutes after the math test was supposed to
end.

“Hey,” I said. I was sitting on my floor, watching a movie on the computer. I hit “Pa
use.”

“Well?” she
said.

“I passed.” I felt sick lying to
her.

Irina let out a breath that turned into a little shriek. “I told you! Baby, I told you! I’m so ha
ppy!”

I looked up at the cottage cheese ceiling and made a
face.

“G
abe?”

“Yeah, I’m h
ere.”

“How come you don’t sound ha
ppy?”

“I don’t know. I got that dizzy thing I told you ab
out.”

“You mean when the letters start moving aro
und?”

“Yeah, t
hat.”

“Well, you still pas
sed!”

“I’m worried about the reading sect
ion.”

Irina’s voice got softer. “If you passed this part, I know you can pass that one. And . . .” She trailed
off.

“W
hat?”

“You got mad last time I said
it.”

“I won’t get
mad.”

“Remember Anya’s little brot
her?”

“I told you it’s not that. I don’t see letters backward.” She thought I had dysl
exia.

She sighed. “It’s not always backward letters. All I’m saying is, if you’re worried about the reading part, you should get tested. Anya’s brother got to take an audio version of the SAT
and
he got extra time. Like double time or someth
ing.”

An audio version and double time. I’d never heard of
that
before, but it sounded perfect. I actually thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, thanks,” I said s
adly.

“What’s the matter with you? You should be happy! You just
pas
sed
!”

“Sorry, I’m just stres
sed.”

“I understand,” Irina said quietly. “You just sat at a computer for two ho
urs.”

“I’m going to look for tickets for you,” I said, to change the subject. “What do you think about January? December tickets are probably crazy right
now.”

“Any time is fine. I’ll make it work. But I don’t want you spending money on this. I can buy t
hem.”

“No way.” I was stubborn about not letting Irina pay for things. Maybe it was because my mom had hooked up with so many leeches who sucked our bank account dry. Or maybe it was because Irina was filthy rich, and it made me extra self-conscious about looking broke around
her.

“What if I
want
to buy them?” she
said.

“No.”

“Maybe I will any
way.”

“Stubb
orn!”

Irina giggled. I knew she’d take that as a compliment. “I love you, G
abe.”

“Love you, too.” I stared at her picture on the wall and thought about burying my face in her chest. Smelling her hair and just hugging her. She was the one person I wanted to tell about the GED, but I coul
dn’t.

“You sound really tired,” she said softly. “Go rest. Call me la
ter.”

As I hit “End,” the phone screen started flashing. Mom. I felt like I was stepping off a building, but I answered. I didn’t give her a chance to say anything. “I passed, but I’m tired and I can’t talk right
now.”

Mom whooped. “Oh, wow! G
abe!”

“He passed?” I heard Phil ask in the backgr
ound.

And then, I don’t know, I kind of snapped. “Like he fucking cares,” I
said.

“Gabe!” Mom sounded
hurt.

I breathed out, trying to stop myself from going off on her. The thing was, Mom was the only family I had. My dad, whoever he was, had never met me. And my mom tried to be a good parent. But she had a weak spot for assholes, and sure enough, she’d found the biggest one of all to shack up with. Which was part of why I was in Vegas instead of at home with her in Washin
gton.

“Go drink a toast with Phil,” I said. “I gotta
go.”

“Gabe?” Mom sounded like she was about to cry. “I’m just really proud of you, ho
ney.”

“Thanks,
Mom.”

“Okay, well, call me when you’re up for it, okay? We need to talk about you coming home for Christ
mas.”

“Will Phil be th
ere?”

“Well .
 . .”

“I’m not coming. I have to go, Mom.” I hung
up.

I stood up and paced around my apartment like it was a cage. It was, in a way. The only thing I had going for me in life was a good job. And there were about twenty places that bucket could spring a
leak.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
he next morning, my day off, the knock was so loud and fast that my first thought was
Cops!
I jumped out of bed and stood, staring at the door. I
was
breaking a lot of laws. But I couldn’t believe they’d send somebody to my h
ouse.

The knocking stopped for a moment, and I pressed myself against the wall, trying to clear my head and get a strategy together. I’d sneak out through the kitchen, tap on Tilda’s door, and ask her to let me out. If she wasn’t home, I’d have to try my other quad mate, the dude who shared my bathroom, Moldy Razor Man
. . .

Knock knock knock. “G
abe?”

I ran to pull open the
door.

Irina was standing there, grinning. She jumped
into my arms, and we stumbled back into my apartment, kissing and laughing. “I
knew
you were home!” she said between kisses. She smelled incredible, like the ocean and flo
wers.

“How?” I demanded, kicking the door shut behind
her.

“I saw your car. I figured you were sleeping.” She slipped off her backpack and dropped it on the gr
ound.

“No, I mean how are you
here
? Did you
fly?”

“No, I hitchhiked.” She gave me a wicked grin. “Of course I flew. I took a 6:00 a.m. flight. I wanted to surprise you. Are you surpri
sed?”

“Yes. I thought you were the c
ops!”

She thought that was hysterical. I carried her, laughing, to my mattress, and set her down gently. I covered her with kisses, lifted her hair, and kissed the softest part of her neck, under her ear. “I told you I wanted to get your tic
ket.”

She ran her hands down my chest and grabbed me around the waist. “You can get the next one. I didn’t want to wait any longer to see you. And I have two days off school.” She made a face. “I knew I had to do it without telling you, because you’re so weird about paying for everyth
ing.”

“What if I was one of those guys who split every check down the middle? You’d be
gone
.” I rolled over, pulling her on top of
me.

“That’s true,” she admitted. She dipped her head, and her hair fell in a silky tent around our faces. Her nose was touching mine. I loved this view of her, so close that all I could see was her eyes. “You realize you live in a complete pit, right?” she whispered, looking ar
ound.

I chuckled. “What are you talking about? This is the Hil
ton.”

“No, I mean, this is
bad
. You don’t even have she
ets.”

“That’s because I don’t have my sweet woman to take care of me,” I murmured, biting her
jaw.

“Sexist!” she shri
eked.

“Well, maybe I’m just dirty, then,” I said. “Maybe I’m a gross caveman who would never even take a shower if you didn’t make
me.”

“That’s probably true.” She kissed my cheeks, my neck, and my mouth. And then we didn’t talk anymore for a w
hile.

Irina had thirty-two hours until her return flight, and I didn’t want to waste a second of it. First I drove her to Red Rock. The desert was on my side, popping with light and color and clean, spicy smells. The sky was pure blue except for the curling white trail of a stunt plane. It was a giant’s playground out there: rocks piled up in crazy shapes, sun sparkling on stripes of white, yellow, and red on the canyon w
alls.

We parked, and Irina was out of the car before I cut the motor. She ran to the railing and shaded her eyes, blond hair whipping like a flag in the wind. “Can we
climb
on them?” she a
sked.

“Climb at your own risk,” I read from the battered metal sign sticking out of the rocks. “Which means
yes
.” I boosted her over the rail, jumped after her, and we started up a dusty path—or something like a path—winding between boulders. The rocks closed behind us quickly. Gray-and-brown plants poked between the gaps in stones, and fat white-tailed chipmunks skittered out of our way as we cli
mbed.

“This is amazing,” Irina panted, hoisting herself onto a l
edge.

I grabbed her foot, and she shrieked and tried to pull away. I held on and kissed her ankle, grinning up at her. “I still can’t believe you’re here. What did you tell your pare
nts?”

“I said I was going camping with a friend from school, Giselle. They like
her.”

“Oh.” I let go and climbed onto the ledge next to her, raising a cloud of red dust. “Do they even know you’re still seeing me?” I tried to sound casual, but she gave me a look, and I could see she wasn’t fo
oled.

“No,” she said qui
etly.

“Oh.” I picked up a small, sharp stone and scratched the gr
ound.

Irina touched my hand. “When I ran away with you before, it crushed them. They’re . . . they’re different than your
mom.”

“What?” I said bitterly. “You mean they actually care what you
do?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean they’re protective. Overprotect
ive.”

“You’re eighteen. How long are they going to treat you like a little
kid?”

She frowned. “I don’t think they treat me like a kid. I ran away with you without telling them where I was going. It’s not that surprising that they don’t like
you.”

“You’re not giving them a chance to!” I tossed the stone and it clattered off the rocks below. “They don’t even know I’m still in your life. I mean, how long do we have to be together before you tell t
hem?”

“I don’t know,” Irina said, looking
down.

Suddenly a cold feeling crept into my gut.
She doesn’t love me
.
She’s just having an adventure.
I pictured her driving off into her future in a white Lex, leaving me in the
dust
.

As if she’d read my mind, Irina scooted closer and put her arms around me. Her body was strung tight, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or a strong feeling. “I love you,” she said into my neck. “Please try to understand. I’m already breaking their hearts by not going to conservatory. I can’t add this on top of it.” She squeezed me ha
rder.

I finally hugged her back. “Okay. But they have to know somet
ime.”

“O
kay.”

“I’m not that bad of a guy. Your dad might like me if he got to know
me.”

Irina snorted gently. “Or not. But I like you, and that’s what matt
ers.”

“Is
it?”

“Yes,” she
said.

I let her go and stood up. “Let’s keep climb
ing.”

We ended up spending most of the day at Red Rock. By the time we got back to town, we were starving, and wolfed down two pizzas at this funny place called Battista’s Hole in the
Wall.

When we got back to my place, Irina looked at me, her eyes gleaming. “Gabe, let’s play strip poker.” I think she was still feeling like a badass for surprising
me.

“Hmm, let me think.
Okay!
” I
said.

“Just prepare to lose,” said Irina. She always said that. I’d taught her poker—it was how I won our first kiss—and she had a mad competitive st
reak.

I was already pulling out the c
ards.

“You shuffle. I’ll be right back.” Irina scooped her backpack off the ground and headed for the bath
room.

“Um, I should warn you . . .” I started, but she was already opening the
door.

“Oh,
no
,” she said in a seriously horrified voice. “G
abe!”

“I call him Moldy Razor Man,” I said. “If there’s something in the toilet, don’t l
ook.”

She gave a high-pitched laugh and shut the door behind
her.

“Don’t touch anything!” I ca
lled.

There was some bumping and banging, and I smiled to myself, wondering what Irina was seeing in there. The dude was nasty. Once I’d found stained drawers hanging off the showerhead. Another time, shampoo bottles turned upside down over takeout containers, draining every last drop. And once, a toilet plunger sitting in the
tub.

The door cracked open, and Irina’s foot poked out and waved around. She had a Nike ankle sock on. “There should be a soundtrack for this,” she
said.

“What are you doing, you lunatic?” I asked. “Come out of th
ere!”

“Da na na na na,” she hummed and shimmied
out.

I almost peed myself. She was
layered
, wearing a pair of pajamas, striped and baggy, on top of her clothes, with a hat, a scarf, sunglasses, and a little lace G-string on her head like a cap. “I know you’re a little better at poker than me,” she said, swishing over and sitting down on the carpet. “So this is just to keep things f
air.”

I tried to snatch the underwear off her head, but she slapped my hand away and shrieked, “No! You have to win a round before you get to take anything
off.”

“You’re cheating,” I said, as I dealt the hole cards. “Totally cheat
ing.”

“Consider it a handicap.” She was obviously very pleased with herself, which made me even more determined to win. Unfortunately, Lady Luck was with the freak in five layers. I couldn’t get a break: treys, deuces, not a single face card. Nothing higher than three of a kind, four hands running. By round four, I was down to my boxers, because all I’d started out with was a shirt, pants, and my watch. Meanwhile, all
she’d
lost were the sungla
sses.

“I want to eat your abs with a little, tiny spoon,” she said, eyeing my six-pack. I looked down. I
did
look ripped. Eating on the cheap plus a few eight-hour shifts as a bar slave had tightened me
up.

“Feel free.” I held out my arms. To my surprise, she put down her cards, took the underwear off her head, and moved closer. She pushed me down gently and started kissing and biting my stomach. “Lower,” I
said.

She went about an inch lower, nibb
ling.

“Lo
wer!”

Now she was at my waist, and things were getting ser
ious.

“Lower!”
Will this
work?

She pulled back, flushed. “I’d really like to .
 . .”

I squeezed my eyes closed and smacked my chest. “Nooooo fair!” I ho
wled.

“Sorry,” she whispered. And then we both started laughing, until we were shaking and rolling and pounding the floor. Tears squeezed out the corners of my
eyes.

“We’re in Vegas. We should just run away and get married so you can quit with the
waiting
thing,” I gasped. Because Irina was religious, she was waiting until she was married. Long story. But I dealt with it because . . . well, because I was whi
pped.

“I wish!” She gig
gled.

I rolled to my side and grabbed her hand. “Why not? We could get married by El
vis.”

Irina’s eyebrows popped up. “You’re kidding, ri
ght?”

“I can’t wait that much longer,” I said. “This is torture. I know it’s your religion, and I respect that, but this is out of cont
rol.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Her warm fingers threaded through
mine.

I breathed deep for a few minutes, stared at the ceiling, and tried to picture roadkill, tests, Phil, and other things to calm me down. Outside, an ancient motor turned over. “Sometimes I wonder what we’re doing,” I
said.

“Me,
too.”