Risk by Elana Dykewomon

Author:Elana Dykewomon [Elana, Dykewomon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612940427
Publisher: Bywater Books

They disagreed on whether to have chicken or fish. “Let’s get both, then, and take home the leftovers,” Carol said.

“Someone’s flush.”

“I did alright.” Carol paused.

“How alright?”

“I’m ahead—” she stopped a second to consider the pink chip that lay, uncashable, in the bottom of her bag. Of course subtract that, it’s part of your gambling losses, kiddo, a high-priced souvenir. Was that Molly’s or her own voice? “— twenty-eight hundred seventy six dollars.”

Z.D. whistled. “You must have been on fire.”

“The first night I was up about forty-three hundred, but then I stopped at a couple casinos on the way to Taos and got sloppy.”

“Not too sloppy. Maybe you should quit your day job.”

“You think?”

“No,” Z.D. shook her head quickly. “No— in fact, I was wondering when you were going to get back to tutoring. You should call up your clients while the semester is young— otherwise they’re going to find new tutors.”

“I guess. But maybe I should take the rest of the year off.”

“It’s not only about making money, honey. I think you need some structure.”

Carol blinked. “Look who’s suddenly Ms. Responsible.”

“Just looking out for you, that’s all. Nash is doing a new play over at Theater Rhino— The Lesbian Brothers or something. You could always volunteer to usher.”

“That’s cute.” Carol shook the last remnants of her four-day old headache off, and played with her chopsticks.

“Yeah, that’s me, cute all over.” The waiter came by, and Z.D. ordered onion cakes, fried snapper with bok choy, eggplant, and kung pao chicken, no MSG. “For someone who came out so far ahead, you don’t look very happy. And don’t tell me it’s about your mother.” Z.D. put her hands palms down on the table.

Carol took a drink of water. “Flying is very dehydrating.”

“Carol?”

“Z.D. I—” she looked down at the tablecloth, which had a soy sauce stain to the right of the paper placemat. “How long have we been together?”

“Nine years last summer, but you know that. You never forget an important number. So what’s up? You have the nine-year itch?” Carol fidgeted with her chopsticks. “Shit. Shit, Carol. You do have the fucking itch.”

“I don’t think that’s why—”

“Fuck. You expect me to sit here and eat with you while you calmly tell me that you’re sleeping with someone else? In fucking New Mexico?”

“Z.D. Please keep your voice down.”

“Oh, now you want to be all civilized.”

Carol sighed. “I’m not sleeping with someone else. I did—”

“You did what? C’mon, cough it up.”

“I let myself get picked up. By a dealer.”

“You fucked some guy?” Z.D. pressed her palms on the table and rose halfway out of her chair, leaning toward Carol.

“Don’t be such a sexist, Z.D. Lots of dealers are women.”

“Oh, well, in that case—” Z.D. slumped down, curling her fists into tight balls.

“You could let me finish.”

“You could be finished. All right, all right. Go ahead.” Forbearance, isn’t that what the nuns say? What the hell is forbearance anyway? Fucking self-control. You’d think Carol might give it a try.

“The shuttles had stopped running, and she offered me a ride back to my hotel.

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