Down 'N' Derby (32 page)

             
“Online,” I repeated.

             
“Yes, online. But you didn’t listen to me. And then you got way over your head, lost and now you owe me seven thousand dollars.” He finished arrogantly and I almost expected him to bow.

             
“I lost in a game of….” I prompted slowly, so afraid of the answer my hands had started to tremble.

             
“Texas Hold ‘Em.” When I continued to just stare at him, he finally added. “Poker. Online poker.”

             
“Oh my goodness,” I winced. Suddenly the puzzle was pieced together and in front of me. I was going to be sick. I was going to be really sick. I reeled in a circle, desperately searching for a place to sit down, but all of my furniture was gone. Another wave of clarity rippled through me and my stomach actually lurched this time. I took off for the kitchen sink and gripped the stainless steel basin. I ignored the anal retentive voice inside me screaming about germs, not because I wasn’t worried about them, but because thinking about them was making it worse. I choked on a gag and then dropped my head forward so I could breathe in and out deeply through my nose.

             
“You’re not going to….? Are you going to be sick?” the guy asked from behind me. He didn’t sound concerned, just really grossed out.

             
I waved an aggravated hand behind me, hoping he would get the hint and just leave. He didn’t, or if he did he ignored it and instead walked over to the fridge and opened it. I heard him rummage through the practically empty appliance; my college sized budget didn’t cover much more than a value pack of Ramen Noodles. I heard the telltale sign of a pop can opening and then the fizzy bubbles of ginger ale were placed in front of my nose.

             
He placed the can to my lips and then tilted it back before I could protest. I took a small drink and then stood up before he could force anymore down my throat. The carbonated beverage settled in my stomach and coated the nausea with something soothing.

              Ok, that felt alright.

             
I took the can from his hand, my fingers accidentally brushing over his before I took possession and then sipped another soothing drink.              

             
“That wasn’t me,” I finally choked out, squeezing my eyes shut.

             
“What?” he asked and I jumped by how close he was.

             
I took a step back, opened my eyes to meet his and said slower, “That wasn’t me. I didn’t place the bet, or play the game or whatever. It was my roommate, she must have…. stolen my identity! I swear to you, not even an hour ago I found this note that said she had a gambling addiction and she was going to rehab. She owes me money too! “

             
A long, very still moment of silence stretched between us before he said, “She stole your identity?”

             
“Yes!” I squealed. Even I could tell how high pitched and annoying that was, but I couldn’t help it! “And my furniture,” I said with further emphasis.

             
“I was actually wondering about that,” he said pensively.

             
“So you see? It’s not me that owes you seven thousand dollars, it’s her.”

             
“But she’s gone? To rehab? With all of your furniture?” His phrases sounded like questions, but they didn’t feel like them. It felt more like he was trying the words out, rolling them around on his tongue and deciding whether or not I was lying.

             
“Yes!” I answered anyway, hoping he would believe me.

             
“You can see why your version of what happened is hard to believe,” he sighed and if I didn’t know better, or if maybe I wouldn’t have slapped my hands over my eyes, I would have been able to assure myself there wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice, or the sound of him smiling. Those things were all products of my delusional imagination…..

             
“Yes, I could see why, but it’s the truth,” I promised, struggling to peek from behind my fingers.

             
“Regardless of what happened, your name is still signed on my contract, you still owe me my money,” he stated finally.

             
“Contract?” I croaked.

             
“Online document, your initials were used. Unless you have a way to prove to me that it wasn’t you who signed the document, I have to assume it was you. I mean, that’s a lot of money. It’s not exactly like I can just look the other way.”

             
“But it wasn’t me! I’m sure I can prove it, I just need…. time,” I pleaded, my head spinning with every kind of crazy thought to get out of this.

             
His hand went up to cup his chin in thoughtful silence for a while. His eyes roved over me again, taking in every piece of me as if to weigh it and decided whether to trust it or not. Finally, after several minutes of quiet, he said, “I’m a nice guy-”

             
“You’re not a nice guy. You’re a scary guy,” I confessed honestly and probably a little frantically before I could think better of it.

             
A burst of laughter fell out of his mouth before he could compose himself, “You don’t even know me!”

             
“You’re right! I don’t even know your name,” I pointed out, suddenly realizing that should have probably been the first thing I found out.

             
“Ah,” he stewed on that for a moment and then said, “Finely Hunter.”

             
I gulped. “Finely Hunter?” Ok, the online gambling thing made sense now. Because Finely Hunter, the senior track star, rumored to go through girls like Kleenex’s during flu season and ditch more classes than he attended, was also rumored to run an online on campus gambling site the university had been trying to shut down for three years.

“Fin,” he smiled at me. “You can call me Fin.”

              “You are a nice guy, “I drawled.

             
His grin widened to wicked mischief. “So nice, I’m not going to make you give me my money tonight.”

             
“You’re not?”

             
“No, I have a solution that will help both of us get what we want,” he announced confidently.

             
“You do?” I asked dryly with so much less confidence.

             
“Just don’t forget, you promised you would help.” The hard, authoritative look returned to his eyes and a shiver of nerves climbed up my spine.

             
I nodded because there was nothing left to do. I needed time to think this over, to hunt down Tara and strangle her until dollar bills popped out of her eyeballs.