Pokergeist (9 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

C
lutch found himself outside his former home, noticing a shutter hung off one of the windows. The large flowerpots that Ginny had always filled with flowers stood barren, the dirt dry and cracked. Clutch walked through the door, surprised at the threadbare rug. He didn’t remember it being so worn. Ginny lay curled on her side on the sagging couch, her plump hand under her puffy cheek. A bottle of something was on the lamp table. Clutch picked it up.
Tequila?
Ginny never drank. Her pursed lips blew gently. Clutch knelt beside her, his ghostly fingers stroking her graying hair from her sweaty face. New lines bracketed her mouth. She wet her lips, a tear leaking from her closed eye. “Clutch,” she sighed.

The ring of the phone broke the silence of the room. Ginny rose, bleary-eyed, to answer it. She rubbed her face with a weary hand. “I got them,” she said softly. She staggered to a table with a pile of mail, the phone close to her ear, and held up plane tickets to Phoenix. “I know. I know. But I can’t.” The other person spoke for a long time. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I told you, I’m sorry, but…I’m not ready. I’m really sorry.” The line went dead.

Clutch looked at the lone plant, which was wilting in the Vegas heat. His normally tidy and clean home looked unkempt, as did Ginny. She had always been so happy, filled with sunshine. She looked so…alone now. He didn’t like to think about that. They had been together ten years; she was considerably younger, and he’d never given a thought to the fact that he might leave her completely and utterly alone. She had no one to watch over her.

His mind raced as he saw scene after scene from the ten years they were together. She worked hard, bringing in money when he didn’t. She watched his kid on the days Ruby stayed with them. He had to work—sometimes games went for days—but Ginny never complained. Not like Jenny, the bitch he’d married. Pursing his lip, he tried to remember if he’d ever thanked her. Nothing came to mind. He should have told her he loved her. He wished he had said it at least once. He bent over to kiss the powdery skin of her cheek.

“Tell her now,” Sten, the avenging angel, said from behind him.

Clutch stood, his face a mask of hatred. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Sten ignored him. He gestured to the woman staring out the back door to the overgrown yard. “She’ll be happy to hear it. Say it.”

Clutch launched himself at the levitating man, but their forms merely passed through each other, doing no harm. He landed in a heap, smashing against the fireplace. Above him, an urn wobbled from its perch on the mantle. Clutch watched as it wavered. Sten held out a hand to catch it, but Clutch leaped up, knocking it from the white hands, letting it fall onto the swirling patterns of the braided rug. “I don’t need your help!” he shouted.

The urn lay on the floor, its top rolling under a chair, gray dust puffing out.

Ginny jumped at the disturbance, but all she saw was Clutch’s urn lying on the floor. She figured it must have tipped from its spot. She knew she should have put it in a safer place. She bent down and collected the container, holding it close to her chest. “I still miss him,” she moaned. “I can’t, Stan. I can’t.”

“Stan?” Clutch whispered, not knowing who she was talking about.

“Everybody needs help at one time or another,” Sten said as he winked out of the room.

Clutch stared at his Ginny holding what was left of his cremains. “Not if they don’t exist,” he replied to nobody in particular. He faded out of the room.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
elly opened the door to his apartment as quietly as he could. Closing the door with equal care, he failed to see Gretchen on the orange sofa, her face set with anger.

“Telly Martin,” she whispered harshly, “it’s seven o’clock in the morning.”

Startled, Telly dropped the cash he was taking out of his pocket. It fell on the floor, coming out of its strap and spreading in a wide arc from his feet. Gretchen jumped up, gasping. Sophie the belly-dancing dog ran in circles around the money, wheezing.
Oh, this you notice,
he thought, looking at the excited dog.

“Where did you get all that money!” she demanded.

Telly pulled out a packet of ten thousand from each side of his pants, thrusting it into Gretchen’s hand. They both bent to pick up the cash from the floor. Gretchen stacked it carelessly on the coffee table.

“I won it, Gretch,” he told her excitedly.

Narrowing her bright eyes, she looked at him skeptically.

“Really. I did.”

“You hit a jackpot? In a machine?”

“Poker. I won it all at poker.”

“How? How could you have played, Telly? You didn’t have anything to join a game.”

Sophie decided to bark loudly at that moment, and the man from 4A banged against the wall. “Loser…I’m sick and tired of your noise. I’m gonna come there and throw that dog out the window,” he called again.

Telly lowered his head, mumbling, “Quick Daddy and Cheryl…”

“You took money from Cheryl…?”

“Borrowed. Listen, I can explain everything,” Telly said urgently.

Clutch appeared next to Gretchen and interrupted. “Don’t do it, Telly.”

“Oh, now you’re back?” Telly spat to Clutch.

“I’ve been here for hours,” Gretchen answered hotly.

“She’s pissed.” Clutch laughed.

“Shut up!” Telly told Clutch rudely.

“What?” Gretchen said with shock. Tears leaked down her face and made her mascara run.

Telly turned to her. “Not you, Gretchen.”

Clutch grabbed his arm. “She’ll never believe you, pal. You’re gonna ruin everything.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” Telly yelled at Clutch, batting his arms wildly.

Gretchen stood, fury and hurt making her vibrate. “Leave you alone? Maybe I should.”

“Gretch, not you. Him,” Telly said, pointing to empty air.

Gretchen looked, her hands wiping her tears. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I won tonight. I won big, but I won with…a little help.”

“What?”

“Clutch…Clutch Henderson helped me.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes impatiently. She tapped her foot, her hands on her hips. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Clutch Henderson—really? What, did you take his book to the tables and cheat?” She grabbed his hands palms up. “Did you write crib notes on your hands?”

Telly pulled his hands away, his face suffused with red.

Gretchen felt anger building in her chest until she felt the walls caving in. Sweet, dependable Telly had ignored everything they’d discussed. He was treating her like a...a... nothing. Her job was hanging by a thread. Words failed her. She didn’t want to tell him about Rob. She didn’t want to add more to his shoulders and tell him about the other thing. Not yet. She never complained…never. “Didn’t we decide you weren’t going to play anymore, Telly? What happened to your responsibility to me?”

Telly watched in mute shock as Gretchen’s anger became a living thing. They hardly ever fought. He followed her as she stalked to the bedroom. “We talked it over. You were going for a job. The experiment ended. You agreed to stop.” She covered her face with her hands forlornly. “You are putting me in a bad situation.”

“Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”

“Uh-oh, that was stupid,” Clutch remarked.

“Do me a favor and don’t help me,” Telly yelled at Clutch.

“Don’t help you? You don’t appreciate anything I’ve done,” Gretchen cried.

“No, Gretchen.” Telly followed, trying to get her to calm down. “He’s here. He didn’t give me a choice. He keeps talking to me.”

“I don’t believe this,” Gretchen said.

“Told ya,” Clutch added from his spot by the doorframe.

Telly spun, pointing his finger. “I told you to stay out of this.”

Gretchen watched, her eyes widening as Telly spoke to the air. “Don’t talk to me that way!”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him!” Telly pointed to a darkened corner of the room.

“That was dumb,” Clutch told him. “She can’t see me.”

“Why me? Why am I the only one that sees you?” Telly turned to Gretchen and pleaded, “Look hard, Gretch. Can’t you see him?”

Clutch shrugged, but Gretchen rounded on Telly, her temper up. “Who…what are you talking about? There’s nobody here but us.”

“Clutch Henderson is in the room.”

Gretchen’s eyes filled with both anger and frustration. “No, Telly. There’s nobody here.”

Telly took her hand, which she pulled away, annoyed at him. “I spent the evening with Clutch Henderson. He went with me to play poker. He’s helping me.”

“That guy died. It was in all the papers and all over the news. He’s been dead for a year now.”

“I know,” Telly calmly agreed, leading her to the foot of the bed, where they sat on the edge. “He’s a ghost.”

“Telly, please don’t make up stories.”

Telly stood to pace the room. “I have never lied to you. He’s here, right now, leaning against the doorframe.” He looked hard at Clutch. “He’s laughing at us.”

Gretchen shook her head. “Stop it. Stop it right now. You’re scaring me.”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” Telly said, misunderstanding her meaning. “He’s not a scary ghost.” Telly spoke urgently, trying to make her understand. “I mean, he was a little scary to me at first, but then—”

“OK. I think I’ve had enough. I have to think. Look, we made a pact. A couple of weeks and then you would stop.” Gretchen was at the end of her rope.

“I made money tonight. That was part of the pact, too. We’re just getting started.”

“It’s dirty money. I don’t know how, but it’s dirty. It’s not enough to live on for long. Haven’t you realized that already? There is no future in this.”

“There’s twenty thousand dollars on that coffee table.” Telly pointed to the other room.

“Haven’t you learned from the last time you won? It doesn’t last. It’s not steady,” Gretchen argued.

“I did steady for twelve years, and where did that get me?”

“Don’t start, Telly. Once we pay the rent, living expenses, and such, you’ll need some for another game.” Gretchen paced the room, ticking off her points on her fingers. “Then when you lose that, you’ll need some more.” She turned to face him, her voice imploring, “Don’t you see, Telly, with gambling, there is never enough. Things are changing!” Gretchen cried out.

“What’s changing? Nothing’s changed between us. But I won. What if I win again, and again?”

Gretchen raised her eyebrow. Her arms were folded. Telly had never seen her so intractable.

“It could happen.” Telly shrugged.

“I only agreed to this whole plan because you were so depressed about not finding a job.” She continued more to herself: “I wanted you to have some fun, you know? Get it out of your system. But now I want my steady old Telly back,” she whined.

“Steady old Telly,” he repeated with disgust.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“Well, it sounded shitty. Like I’m some sort of pet.”

She stood and pointed at Telly’s chest. “You know what? You are having a nervous breakdown. Poker is messing with your mind. You’re twisting everything I say. I don’t think I can deal with this right now. I have enough to worry about. Oh…I don’t know what to do. I have to think of how to handle this…”—she turned to look at him—“…how to handle you.” She went to the closet and pulled out an overnight bag. She threw a few things haphazardly into the bag.

Telly was panicked. “Stop, Gretch. What are you doing?”
He grabbed the handle of her bag to try to stop her.

“Let her go, Telly.” Clutch struggled with Telly. “Chicks like her are a dime a dozen. My grandpappy always said, ‘Don’t chase after a woman or a bus. There’ll always be another one.’”

“Leave; get out of here!” Telly slapped at the air, and his glasses flew off his head.

Gretchen stared at him, her blue eyes widening. “You told me to stop you. It’s like you’re possessed.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Telly said.

“I feel like I don’t know you,” Gretchen sobbed loudly. She stormed from the room, her bag under one arm. She scooped up Sophie and headed out the door. “This isn’t a dream come true; it’s a nightmare.”

“Gretchen!” Telly yelled, moving to go after her. Sophie turned, her baleful, crooked eyes watching mournfully.

The phone cord traveled from the side of the bed, wrapping itself around Telly’s ankles. He went down like a stone, flat on his face.

“Let her cool off. You’re not gonna get anywhere. She’s just pissed off at you right now,” Clutch said amicably.

Telly tore off the cord clumsily and rose to take off after her. Gretchen was outside getting into a cab.

“Gretchen!” He called after her, tripping down the steps. “Gretch…” He stood in the empty street, watching the cab disappear. “She doesn’t have any money. She has no place to go,” he said sadly. “Thick and thin,” he whispered, his heart breaking.

“It’s like Buster said, ‘Don’t chase after women or buses.’”

Telly looked at Clutch. “You did this. I hate you.”

“Hate’s a strong word, son.”

“Well, I feel strongly that I hate you. Leave me alone.” Telly stomped up the steps to return dejectedly back to his apartment.

“There’s two ways to look at this.”

Telly jumped, realizing he was not alone. “I told you to leave.”

“We could do this the hard way, or the easy way,” Clutch told him.

“Or no way. I’m finished. The only person I care about is not here. I’m going to get a job.”

“She’s gone, buddy. You don’t have to do that anymore.”

Telly didn’t answer. He grabbed his glasses, scooped up a few bucks from the pile on the table, abandoned the rest, and slammed the door, Clutch hot on his heels. Neither of them noticed that the door jammed, bounced, and swung wide open, revealing the pile of cash in his living room to anyone passing by.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
elly called Gretchen’s number six times, and each time it went straight to voice mail.

His hands shoved into his pockets, he walked the streets for hours, ending up three miles away at Gretchen’s friend and coworker, Chrissy’s, place. The street grew busy and school buses made their stops, but Telly stood in the lee of the house waiting for the morning to progress before he knocked on the door. His stomach rumbled, but he refused to go to the McDonald’s around the corner for fear of missing an opportunity to see if Gretchen was there.

“She’s not there,” a voice said from his left, startling him.

Telly glanced sideways to see Clutch sitting on the curb next to him. “I told you to leave me alone.”

Clutch shook his head. “Can’t.” He threw a coin in the air, causing Telly to look up. The coin pulled at Telly’s chest, twisting what was left of his heart. “We’re connected, you and me. I can’t leave, and now you can’t either. We have a job to do.”

“Well,” Telly said leaning backward against a street sign, “you can’t make me.”

“I don’t have to.”

* * *

Chrissy emerged from her home, wrapping a robe around her trim figure.

“Well, hello mama…” Clutch drawled.

“Telly, what are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Is Gretchen in there with you?”

“Gretchen? No, Telly, she’s not. Why?” Crissy said nastily.

“Told you,” Clutch said with satisfaction.

“Shut up,” Telly told him.

“You shut up. You’re such a loser, Telly. I told Gretchen she was wasting her time with you. At least with Rob she might have a future.”

“Rob?” Telly exploded. “She’s with Rob Couts?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. He likes her. Thinks she’s pretty.” Chrissy sniffled. “He asked her to come to his house party. He plays poker…a lot. And
wins
.” Then she added defensively, “He invited me too.”

Telly anxiously paced the street, his hands pulling at his unkempt hair. “What day?”

“I’m not sure,” Chrissy lied. “You were supposed to get a job so you could help her today. It’s eight o’clock; why are you still here?”

“What do you mean she’s going to a party at his house? Gretchen would never do that.”

“He’s interested in her, and he let her know it. He can give her a better life than you. You haven’t brought in much of anything for months.”

“Gretchen’s not interested in him,” Telly persisted.

“You don’t know that,” Chrissy said snidely. “All a girl wants is to be taken care of by her man. You haven’t done much of that lately.”

“It’s not like that with us.”

Chrissy sniffled, “If you say so, but meanwhile you’re the one out looking for her at eight in the morning.”

“Shit, it’s eight already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Clutch laughed.

“I’m not having fun,” Telly growled.

“Neither is she,” Chrissy sneered. “Weren’t you supposed to be at a job interview this morning?” Chrissy looked at him skeptically.

“Where is she?” Telly demanded.

“I told you I don’t know. You better leave here or I’m calling the cops.” Telly opened his mouth, shutting it when she said firmly, “I mean it, Telly.” She showed him the pink iPhone in the palm of her hand.

Telly reeled backward. He had no idea where else she might have gone. He called Gretchen’s mother’s number, but when the phone rang, he hung up. He didn’t like Maggie, and she hated him. She’d never go there and hear that her mother was right after all.
What about Rob Couts?
he thought. She wouldn’t have. That’s why she was so upset; poor Gretch. Her boss was hitting on her, and she didn’t feel comfortable. She was right about the money, though, he admitted. The last time he’d won, they’d lived on it for a short while, but he’d needed the bulk of it to finance new games. It was never going to work; he slapped himself on the forehead. He cursed himself for being both thoughtless and selfish. Why didn’t she tell him? He would make it up to her. He would beg for a cab job, but he was too punch-drunk to go now. He needed to shut his eyes for a few minutes. He headed home.

He set his phone’s alarm for two hours later. Telly didn’t remember falling into his bed or even covering himself. He didn’t notice that the money he’d left on the table was gone. Exhausted, his mind numb with hurt, he sank into a deep slumber, unaware that Clutch sat on the end of the bed, watching and waiting.

Telly snored, and his eyes sunk into his head. Clutch covered him with the fluffy comforter and sat watching the kid sleep. He walked out to look for the cash. Sten materialized on the rusty-orange couch.

“The guy from 4A took it,” Sten told him.

“Crap, we’ll have to start all over.” He looked at Sten. “How’d that happen?”

“Telly left the door unlocked. He passed by, saw it, and took it.”

“That stupid ass. I ought to—”

“Haven’t you done enough? Your daughter’s been robbed; your wife and girlfriend are fighting over your winnings. The love of his life has walked out on him. She’s on the verge of being taken advantage of because she’s afraid to lose their only income.”

“Do you know where she went?” Clutch demanded.

Sten inclined his head.

“Do you?”

“You want me to do everything? What will you learn if I do? I don’t know, Clutch. That bracelet looks farther and farther away. Maybe you should set your sights on something more attainable. Maybe your grandfather was right and you really are a loser.” Sten’s voice was laced with contempt.

Clutch swung drunkenly, but Sten easily outmaneuvered him. “You don’t know anything about Buster and me!” he shouted. He stood nose to nose with Sten, and the angel floated, surrounded by a rainbow of colors that tingled against Clutch’s skin. He pointed to the fluorescent white shirt. “That bracelet is mine! Nobody is going to stand in the way of my win.” He paused for a minute. “Wait, what do you mean my daughter’s been robbed? Is she OK?”

“About time you thought about someone other than yourself. Is she OK? That depends on your point of view,” Sten answered as he let himself fade.

“What a crock of shit!” he shouted at the waning image of the sentinel. “Come back here, you interfering know-it-all!”

While he waited for Telly to get up, the angel’s words rankled him. Time ticked by, and Clutch had to admit that watching Telly sleep was more boring than watching him play poker. He decided to take a stroll.