Carve the Heart by A.G. Pasquella

Author:A.G. Pasquella
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2019-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

The inside of Fisher’s station wagon smelled like coffee and cologne. One of my mom’s boyfriends had a car like this. His name was Jerry, and he was one of the nice ones. He would let me go “fishing” in the vinyl seats, wiggling my little hands into the spaces where coins had dropped out of Jerry’s pocket. I got to keep whatever I found. One time I found a stick of spearmint gum still wrapped in foil, and I got to keep that, too.

Fisher sipped his takeout coffee and twisted the dial on the ancient radio. Sweet soul music came trickling from the speakers. Ray Charles, “What’d I Say.” Classic. Fisher reached over and turned down the volume until the music was almost subliminal. “Your coffee all right?”

It was too sweet for me. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“I wasn’t sure how you took it.”

I took a sip. “It’s fine.”

“All right, Jack. The way I figure it, Cassandra played fast and loose with Anton’s money, and when it came time to pay the piper, she skipped out on the bill. That sound about right?”

I frowned. The sugary coffee was hurting my teeth. “We were working on a payment plan, though. She came to me to help broker the deal.”

“Payment plan. Yeah, right. Six hundred grand at a dollar a day. She’d be fully paid off in only one thousand six hundred and forty-four years. Her descendants could leave that shit on Anton’s grave.”

“Not a dollar a day. We’re working it out. You were there at that meeting.”

“I’m not sure what meeting you were at because I remember that shit differently. Seemed like you were taking Cassandra away from Anton, and Anton didn’t like that shit.”

“Anton and Cassandra, that’s done. He needs to realize that.”

“It’s not done. She’s going to play again and she’s going to play for Anton.” Fisher took a big sip of his coffee, reached forward, and fired up the station wagon’s engine. The car coughed, then started up. “All we need from her is one last big game. Make all the money back and then she can waltz off into the sunset.”

Fisher cranked the wheel and the old brown car slid into traffic.

“One last game. What if she loses?”

“I don’t want to hear that glass-half-empty shit. Go into a game thinking you’re gonna lose, guess what, you’re gonna lose.” Fisher drove with his left hand, clutching the coffee in his right.

I was beginning to think that maybe Cassie would be better off if we didn’t find her. If she was safe, then maybe she should stay hidden, wherever she was. But then, if she was safe, then why hadn’t she phoned? Why wasn’t she picking up?

I took another sip of the too-sweet coffee and turned to Fisher. “Cassie’s hand. You know the story there?”

Fisher grunted. “Yeah, I know the story. You have to understand. Anton … he’s a volatile guy. Sometimes he goes too far.”

“He burned her.”

“They were in a hotel room. She was boiling water for tea. He was pissed that she was losing.

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