All In (9 page)

“You did?” I was shocked. My mom and Harlow have been getting along incredibly well. Friday after my mom got back to her trailer, she called me over and over again until my client begged me to answer it. To say it lightly, my mother loves her, ‘like a daughter’ or something like that? Which is good for my mom to be around a good influence such as Harlow.

“Yup, I sure did,” she dropped her black purse on the couch, plopping next to it. “She loves it, too. It’s only a few blocks away from you and Skip which would be convenient for her if she were to need anything,” she smiled sweetly. I could see it in her eyes that this has given her a sense of a motherly connection. A connection I was sure she missed terribly bad.

“Sweet,” I walked over to the couch, kneeling between her legs. “When do I get to see it?” I kissed her softly.

“When you, Mr. Jackson, move her things,” she laughed against my lips.

“Oh hell no, I will hire movers to move all of her shit,” I snorted.

She gaped, playfully smacking my shoulder. “Vice Jackson! I am ashamed of you!”

“Ashamed of me are you?” I started to tickle her thighs. She was wriggling and screaming beneath me when Skip entered the living room.

“Kids!”

I ignored him and went on to tickle Harlow’s ribs.

“Kids!” Skip yelled again, closer now. “Were going to be late for the tournament, let’s go,”

Placing my hands on either side of Harlow’s face, I looked into her playful blue eyes. “Before we go, I just want to tell you that you are amazing, Harlow Jean, and I love you,”

“I love you, too,” she smiled.

“And thank you again for what you are doing for my mom, it means a lot to her,” I caressed her cheeks with my thumbs. “And to myself,”

“You’re welcome,” she leaned in, swiftly planting a kiss upon my lips. “It means a lot to me to help in anyway that I can,”

I stood up, grabbing her hands then pulling her to her feet.

“So, are you ready to go kick some ass?” she asked, grinning widely.

“With you by my side, absolutely.”

Chapter Six

Harlow

One thing about living in Vegas I could never get sick of, is life. Spite what I had told Vice about the heat making me sick, I love it. I love the heat, the lights, the many people walking down the strip- some smiling, some laughing, some frowning from their sudden losses of Benjamins, and some offering services of the unknown. The flashing of lights, and the sounds of Elvis and slot machines pouring through the doors of each and every building you pass by. This is the life.

I followed behind Vice and Skip, trying hard to suppress the anxious knot in my stomach. Tonight, my brother will be playing the most intense game of poker with Vice. Even though Chase had promised not to say a word about him being my brother, you can’t take what he says for shit.

“You okay back there?” Vice turned around to stop and wait for me to catch up.

“Of course,” I smiled walking a little faster. “I was just letting you guys talk, chat, or whatever it is you boys do.”

Skip admired his finger nails while fake chewing bubble gum. “I get enough chat time at the shop,” he said with big girl sass.

“You are so weird,” I managed to say between laughs.

“Hey, Jackson!”

I heard my brother shout from behind us. We turned around and not to my surprise, my brother had an entourage of about six guys in black suits and two very looking slutty woman on both of his arms. They each had on mini dresses exposing everything anyone with respect wouldn’t, giant rat nests atop their blonde and brown heads of hair assuming it were volume, and enough make up you could take your fingernail and scrape it off. I then took a look at my brother. Him not being able to stand still long enough told me that he was undoubtedly high. His jaw clenched between several seconds of it moving vigorously from side to side, he sniffed every ten seconds, and wouldn’t stop running his hands through his hair which I might add was a disaster- it sticking up in all directions. I felt my heart break, seeing anyone in that state was a sight you don't want to see.

“You look like shit, Miller,” Vice spoke up first.

“Yeah, well you both look like fags,” my brother smiled, pointing to Vice, then Skip. To my surprise, Chase didn’t even acknowledge I was standing there.

“It’s bad enough I have to look at you for the next few hours. What the hell do you want?” Vice spat. The irritation was very clear across Vice's face, it looked as though he could scream. My brother is one of those that when he wants something, his actions are similar to a finger repeatedly poking the middle of your forehead until you give in and say, “Fine!” just to make him stop.

“I have a proposition for you,” Chase shook the bimbos off his arms, taking a step closer to Vice. Their chests only a foot apart.

“I’m not one of your whores, Miller,” Vice smiled. I pursed my lips as Chase took a glance at me.

“What do you think about a wager?” Chase completely ignoring Vice’s comment.

“A wager for what?” Vice crossed his arms over his chest. He was becoming highly annoyed. “I whoop your ass again and you leave me alone?”

“Ah, highly unlikely.” Chase rubbed his jaw as it was locking up on him again. I don’t think I had ever seen him this high. “Cars,”

“I don’t want your fucking car, Chase,” Vice laughed aloud.

“If you win, you can pick whichever you want out of my ten cars. I’ll sign the title over,” Chase then counted on his fingers. “I have a few trucks, a Hummer, my Ferarri, I have a BMW, a Mercedes, a Bentley…”

“And if you win?” Vice cut him off.

“I get your Camaro,” Chase shrugged.

“No, Vice. Don’t,” I said quickly, grabbing his arm and shaking my head. He has been working on that car for the last four years. During our sessions he would go on and on and on about that car. I remember how excited he was after he finished painting it. He took me out back of the shop and showed me. I remember the smile on his face when he showed me the engine he had built.

“Are you fucking serious?” Skip looked at Chase as if he were a psychopath. I was beginning to think he was. Chase is going to serious extremes with Vice, unnecessary extremes.

“As a heart attack,” Chase kept eye contact with Vice who was now clenching his fists at his sides, his eyes full of anger. The anger of knowing that Chase will stop at nothing to get to him.

“Alright, I’m all in,” Vice held his hand out to shake Chases.

“Vice, no,” I said aloud, trying to pull his hand away from my brothers but it didn’t budge. Vice continued to hold his hand out towards Chase who then firmly planted his hand in Vice’s. They shook hands, and a deal is a deal.

“Why did you do that, Vice?” I felt as though I was going to cry standing in front of him, his eyes staying on Chase as him and his posse walked into The Mirage. “You love that car,”

“I do,” his eyes met mine before he smiled. “Do you really think I am going to let him take my money and my car, babe?”

“What if he does win?” Skip added.

“He won’t,” Vice shrugged.

“You sure about that?” Skip asked.

“Really, dude? He is so high, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing,” Vice gave Skip a knowing look.

“He’s right, Skip. He can’t even stand still let alone concentrate,” I’ve seen my brother play high on blow, he never wins as he can’t focus at all. After wards, he then freaks out. I have seen him break noses, chairs, bottles, you name it.

“Can you kick his ass quickly so we can get this the hell over with?” Skip sighed, opening the door to The Mirage. “You guys are stressing me the fuck out,”

We walked in and I could tell that Vice was nervous. He was holding my hand, it sweating profusely as he squeezed my hand tighter reaching the registration desk.

“Name?” the red headed, older woman with a name tag that read Irene said sweetly with a smile.

“Vice Jackson,” he tossed his drivers license onto the counter.

Irene entered his information into the computer. “All set, Mr. Jackson. Good luck to you,”

“Thank you,” he sighed, setting his license back into his brown leather wallet. Vice’s sweaty hand grabbed mine again and we walked toward the poker room, Skip following behind.

“You Don’t have to do this, Vice,” I whispered as we walked into the room. My brother was already sitting in his seat, watching for us to walk through the door. His jaw bouncing from side to side. I was sure if you listened closely, you could hear his teeth grinding.

“It’ll be okay, trust me,” he brought his finger under my chin before kissing me on the lips.

“Good luck, dude,” Skip smacked Vice on the back with his hand.

“I’ll be right over there,” I pointed to the seats that were to the left of the table.

“Okay,” he kissed me again. “See you in a few hours,” he gave my hand one last squeeze before letting go to take his seat.

I turned to head to our seats when I saw Skip talking to some female in a lavender sundress. I walked over and grabbed his arm.

“Come on, Skip,” I pulled on his arm taking him with me to our chairs.

“Call me!” He yelled over his shoulder. “You ruined my game, Harlow,”

“Yeah, well… now is not the time to pick up chicks,” I made sure to get us seat to where we could see both Chase’s and Vice’s faces.

“Anytime is the time,” he nudged me.

“Skip, this is serious!” I slapped my hands on my thighs.

“I was kidding, chill,” he splayed his hands out.

I closed my eyes and sighed aloud. “I cannot believe he agreed to do this, I can’t,”

“Have you ever seen your brother this high before?” He asked.

“Uh, no. He is seriously messed up,” We watched Chase, his legs shaking underneath the table, running his fingers through his hair. “I have never seen him this bad,”

“It looks like he is going to sky rocket from his seat,” Chase went to stand, then sat back down again, looking at everyone around him. “Is he overdosing?”

“No, if he were going to overdose, he would have already. He is just extremely geetered,”

Skip eyed me. “How do you know all of this stuff?”

“I am Chases little sister, I work at his casino, and have lived with him for almost five years. Hello, ‘McFly’,” I knocked on his head with my fist.

“Shut up,” Skip laughed, keeping his eyes on my brother.

Within five minutes the other five men joined the table, and within fifteen the match was in full swing.

“How much is this tournament anyways?” I asked, watching the bald guy with his sunglasses on fold his cards.

“Five hundred grand,” Skip quickly said, winking at the girl in the lavender dress and making googly eyes at her.

“Five hundred grand!?” I said loudly. Holy shit that’s a lot of money!

Skip spun around quickly. “Shh! Yes!” he whispered.

I looked around, most eyes next to us were on me, including Vice’s. He smiled.

“Sorry,” I mouthed with a wave. Vice smirked, shaking his head as he stared at his cards.

An hour and a half into the tournament there were only three of them left; Vice, my brother, and some super hairy guy named Ralph that liked to constantly touch his black mustache with his fingertips. I don’t know how they can play against that man, it would be too distracting.

We sat anxiously awaiting Ralph to set his cards down. His eyes were landing between Vice and Chase.

“Oh, quit touching your damn mustache and lay the damn cards down, already,” I whispered impatiently, Skip sat next to me laughing his ass off at my anxious comment.

“You could never play poker, Harlow. You are way too damn impatient,” he shook his head.

“Well, it's a good thing it's not me out there then,” I pointed to the table.

“Your brother isn't much better,” he pointed out my brothers bug eyes. “He's like a chipmunk on crack,” he laughed.

I watched Ralph smile. “It’s a full house, boys,” he then laid his cards down on the table.

“What’s a full house, is that good?” I chewed on my fingernails, I could taste the red chips of my nail polish on my tongue.

“It’s good, but not that good,” Skip assured me.

“What if Vice doesn’t have a better hand, oh God,” I held my hands over my face. “I can’t watch, Skip,”

Skip grabbed me by the wrists bringing my hands away from my face. “Chill out, Harlow. Just watch,”

“Please, oh please,” I prayed.

I studied Vice’s face, his expression was completely unreadable. I looked over to Chase, his jaw still going crazy and I could see he was sweating.

“You first, Jackson,” Chase nodded toward Vice sitting across from him.

“Nu-uh, Miller, this one is yours,” Vice smiled mischievously.

“What does he mean by this one is his? Does he have a bad hand? Oh, God,” I continued to chew my nails, my leg shaking. I couldn’t handle it if Vice lost, what would I say or do?

Skip was laughing hysterically. “He means for Chase to put his cards down first, and Seriously, it’s fine. I can see it in his face. He isn’t worried by any means. Your brother is seriously stressing though,”

“Straight flush, baby,” he tossed his cards in front of him. “Two aces and three three’s. You’re done mustache stud, woo!” he stood up pointing to Ralph.

“I'll be damned,” he said lowly, looking over at Vice.

“Same,” Vice laid his cards out. “Straight flush, two aces and three three’s,”

“What happens when they get the same thing? Anything?” I asked Skip.

“Ralph is out, but now they split fifty-fifty whatever is in the pot since they had the same hand,”

“So it’s just Vice and my brother left, right?” I reassured myself. “No Ralph?”

“Nope, no Ralph,” he pursed his lips.

“This is it, Miller,” Vice said across the table.

“This is the time I get what is mine. Your car, and my fifty six thousand,” Chase ran his fingers through his hair standing up then sitting back down again.

“Someone needs to knock his ass out, let the blow wear off,” Skip laughed. “Dude, is seriously annoying,”

We watched the dealer deal the cards. Chase places a bed, Vice raises. Chase calls, then Vice raises making my brothers jaw start going crazy again. The sweat on his brow increases, then Chase stands up knocking his chair to the floor pacing back and forth in front of the table.