Rick was conflicted the entire ride home. Alone with his thoughts, the decision wouldn’t settle.
He’d lost everything but his life, and almost that, too, had he gone through with it. But what was a life with Kristina? Hector wouldn’t leave him alone; of that, he was certain.
He stopped at the grocers on the way home, getting frozen boxed dinners and more beer. His money wasn’t low, but there would be no more from Hector. Could he compete and bet on himself again?
It would be slow going, and Hector would hold his wife’s eggs over him as leverage. Probably use it to rig matches, and how could I say no?
When he got home, he microwaved dinner and drank. Halfway through his chicken and rice, which was too salty by half, his phone buzzed.
Email from Alex.
> Hey,I heard you were at the funeral. Manny says you were loaded for bear and ready to fuck Hector up.I’m glad you didn’t.I can’t help you anymore. I hope you understand. If I stop working for Hector, I’m screwed.You should continue to compete, rise up the ranks.I’m sorry,Alex
He grunted. Though it hurt, he understood why she had to do it. Beneath Alex’s farewell email, something caught his eye. The email from the recruiter.
Dan Wasslinger hadn’t sent him anything new, but if there was any benefit to unemployment, it was that it made Rick a free agent.
Why not?
> Dan,I don’t know if you’re still watching me. If my last performance didn’t change your mind, I want you to know I’m still interested. I got disconnected on that last game because of the cheater you caught, but there’s more to the story, though I need to know there’s still interest before I can say anything more.Rick Prophet
He put his phone back in his pocket and dug into his reheated meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Had there been a way to take salt out of food, he’d have used it. The beer made it tolerable. By chance, he’d chosen a fancy, hoppier beer, and that cut the metallic taste from the potatoes. Though he missed Kristina’s cooking least of all, it wasn’t because it was bad; it was because he’d rather have her next to him, even if she never cooked again. He’d swallow barrels of salt and freezer burned processed meat for that.
His phone buzzed.
> Rick,We’re definitely still interested, in you and in whatever you can tell us about cheats in our game. It’s a constant battle to keep the game as clean as we can.Unfortunately, I can’t offer you job… yet. I’m sold on you! I haven’t seen this kind of raw talent in quite a while, but I need to be able to sell you to the folks who pay my salary.A few more high-placing finishes, though, and I’m sure we’ll have room. Not sure where you live, but someone higher up told me you accessed from Southern California. If you’re anywhere near L.A., we should have lunch or a beer. I’ve been curious whether you look like your avatar. ;DDan
Rick read it again. Not an offer, but probably worth a meeting. He guzzled the rest of his beer.
> Dan,L.A.’s a big place, but I’m between Koreatown and Larchmont. I don’t have a car. I hope that’s not a problem.Rick
He hit send and placed the phone on the table as he scooped the rest of the now-tepid mashed potatoes and meatloaf. He grabbed another beer and was washing out the plastic tray for recycling when the phone buzzed again. Slow night, Dan?
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> Rick,All the best places have shit for parking, anyway. I’ve got commitments until Wednesday evening, but if you’re open to it, I’d love to hear how you got so good so quickly. Give me your number and I’ll text you—it’s faster than email.Dan
Email had proven pretty damned fast. Rick sent back a quick reply with only this phone number and headed for the remaining muni AR array in the bedroom. Kristina had been the last to use it, so he had to log in. I need to move it back to the living room. He shook his head. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
Wednesday was only two days away. That gave him another night to drink and feel sorry for himself before he had to make himself look healthy enough to not look like a homeless person or fugitive from justice in front of someone who might protect him from becoming either.
He had six more beers before he slept. All night, he dreamt about his wife. No matter the scenario, no matter whether she was happy in the dream or sad, or angry, in every dream, she didn’t let him get within three feet of her.
***************************
Rick stood just outside his shower only half-dry, dripping half on the tile and half on the towel he’d laid down as a bath mat. The words of the text were terse.
> Kristina: This place is hell. There’s no one else I can say that to who will understand.
Was he being solicited? He’d sent so many texts, and she hadn’t responded to a single one. With wet fingers, he started to form a reply. Then stopped. Then deleted and started again. It seemed likely he’d air-dry before settling on anything he could be certain wouldn’t get him shut-out again.
He typed out an apology. “I’m so sorry,” then deleted it. Wrong instincts. Don’t ask her to absolve you of your guilt, you idiot.
> Rick: What can I do to help you?
He waited five minutes before he put the phone down to finish drying off and getting dressed.
On the way to the kitchen, he checked again, then again right before he set it on the table. He poured cold cereal into a bowl, then milk, then checked once more. Nothing. Had he made a mistake by asking how to help?
He’d just sat to plug into the AR array when his phone buzzed. At first, he just looked at it. Then he took a deep breath, and checked.
> Dan: This is Dan. I’m thinking sushi, and there’s a place near you that’s cash-only. Kind of hole in wall but great food. Been looking for an excuse to swing by. 4 pm Wednesday okay? :D
Rick gazed at the message and read it again. Before he could process it, his phone buzzed in his hand as he got a notification that Kristina had texted.
> Kristina: Not much you can do from Southern Cali, but I needed to tell someone or I was going to murder her. I’m still angry at you.
Her. Kristina’s mother. It was as bad as he’d feared. His first instinct was to get on a train, but he paused, then reread the previous thread from Dan.
There’s no room for any delay if I try to go up and get back tomorrow. No. He shook his head. The qualifier for his ranked match—a redo of Rank 2—started at 11 a.m. and that simply wasn’t enough time. He wanted time to endure whatever roadblocks his wife might put up to make him prove he really wanted her. He’d been through that before. But never for anything as awful as this.
He closed his eyes.
> Rick: Do you want me to come get you?
This time, he put the phone back in his pocket. She wouldn’t answer such a direct question right away. He took the phone back out.
> Rick: Sushi sounds great, and if you tell me where it is, I can probably walk there from here.
Ellipsis dots flashed, indicating Dan was composing a reply.
> Dan: No one walks in LA! Give me your address and I can pick you up.
Rick began an insistent reply that he’d rather walk, but deleted it.
> Rick: Here’s my address…