The Gamble: A Novel Read online

  The Gamble

  Xavier Neal

  The Gamble

  By Xavier Neal

  © Xavier Neal 2016

  All rights reserved

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Cover Photographer: Randy Sewell with RLS Model Images

  Cover Model: Bob Gerrity

  License Note

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without authorization of the Author. Any distribution without express consent is illegal and punishable in court of law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

  Dedicated To The Universe....Thanks for always making life worth the gamble.

  Luca

  “I will bang her by the end of the summer. Guaranteed.”

  Warren, my roommate who also happens to be my best friend, shakes his head. “Not a chance, bro.”

  I will. It's more than a fucking chance. It's a guarantee. Didn't he just hear me?

  “Every sport has its championship. This is gonna be mine. The one that puts me in the hall of fame...”

  “What hall of fucking fame? Biggest Assholes to Ever Fuck Over A Woman?”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “I'm sure I could Google it and find your name already on there.”

  Go ahead and Google that for me while I finish this conversation.

  “But you're missing the point I'm trying to make.” Warren gives his brown hair a rub. “She's not a fucking sport and treating her like it is a fucked up thing to do.”

  With a devilish smirk, I extend my sculpted arms around the back of the couch. “Then let's bet on it.”

  “The fact you also don't see anything wrong with betting on this subject further demonstrates just how fucked up you truly are.”

  Aren't we all a little fucked up?

  I chuckle, “If you're too much of a pussy to bet just say it. You don't have to give me your psychobabble bullshit, Dr. Freud.”

  Warren glares at my comment. “Do you have any kind of principles?”

  My head bobs back and forth. “No. Not really.”

  In sports, maybe. I believe in good sportsman like conduct and shit. Does that count?

  After a beat I push, “So, you wanna bet or what?”

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  “What the fuck do you mean no?”

  “I know you don't hear that word often, making it harder for you to process, but no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why do you need to bet on this if it's a sure thing?”

  “I like the added pressure.”

  What's better than being at the bottom of the ninth with two outs and only the underdog to turn it all around? The best athletes are made under pressure with the odds stacked against them. Right now, it's safe to say the odds aren't exactly favorable, but you heard Warren. I don't hear no very often. Period.

  He grabs his beer. “No.”

  Unhappy with his resistance I up the ante, “How about this? For every month I don't sleep with her, I'll pay your half of the rent.”

  Warren shifts on the other couch.

  He needs the money and not just because I cleaned him out of his extra cash during a friendly wager on a charity fight, a few months back. Between his shitty job and college debt any bone is better than none. Knowing your opponent’s weakness has to be pshyc crap lesson number one. Wow. He can't even fucking do that right? No wonder his dry spell is continuing.

  There's a drop in his voice. “And if you don't screw her by the end of summer, what then?”

  “I'll pay your rent for the remainder of our lease.”

  His jaw drops.

  Drop yours too. Or your panties if you feel inclined. Ha. I was kidding. I knew that would get him. Money makes people do crazy shit. Change who they are. Challenge everything down to their basic principles. Case in point. You know, for a therapist in the making, you would think Warren's foundation would be steadier or that he'd at least make an effort to not let me of all people use his mind tricks against him.

  “That's not fucking beer money, bro. You're talking thousands of dollars.”

  “Exactly.” I smirk. “That's how much fucking confidence I have.”

  He shakes his head slowly, mumbling to himself, “No. She's...a person not a goddamn poker hand.”

  “You suck at poker too.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Determined, now more than ever, I add the final card. “You know you need that money. Paying down your student loan. Pay off that piece of shit sitting downstairs. You don't think I've a shot in hell then what are you really risking?”

  “Good point. What would I be risking?”

  I grab my beer off the wooden coffee table and replace it with my feet. “If you lose, you become official apartment bitch boy. I never wash another goddamn dish in this apartment.”

  “You already don't do the dishes, dick.”

  What can I say? The chicks who stick around to make me breakfast feel compelled to clean up after it too. Probably helps I eat them out like that first.

  “Fine. You can do my laundry too. Be reminded of what sex smells like.”

  He gags. “Rather clip those dinosaur claws you call toenails than touch your next generation Herpes coated sheets.”

  I laugh and take a sip.

  You can't figure out what you find more disgusting about that sentence can you?

  After a long exhale and another shake of the head he says, “This is wrong Luca, and you know it.”

  My face scrunches at the same time I question, “Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do I, really?”

  “Yes! You may be a heartless asshole-”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you know it's wrong. She's our friend. Our best friend. That fact doesn't fuck with your conscience even a little?”

  Not enough to back down. Damn sure not enough to not reach for the Gold. Fuck that. Fucking Alexxa will be like winning the Platinum medal. It's so fucking amazing it hasn't even been invented yet.

  My bedroom opens cutting off the opportunity to respond.

  The two of us glance to the right and watch the older blonde woman finish buttoning her shirt. She gives her hair another ruffle at the same time she offers me a wide smile. Her heels hitting our hardwood floors as she crosses over to me sounds like victory applause for bringing home another win.

  Ha. It's always a win.

  “That was fun,” she coos and leans over the back of the couch, fake tits barely contained. “Maybe we can do it again next week?”

  I give her a crooked smirk. “Maybe.”

  A hint of excitement flashes in her eyes. Desperate for a better answer, she gives my ear lobe a sloppy suck and whispers, “I'm gonna turn that maybe into a yes.”

  It's cute when women think they have that kind of power.

  My eyes meet hers and I punctuate the word with power. “May-be.”

  She stands back up, tongue trying to seductively wet her lips.

  We're not in a 90's porn. No one is doing a close up of her face.

  “I'll see you at pick up tomorrow, Luca. Enjoy your night.”

  “You too, Mrs. Stone.”

  Her fake giggle causes me to roll my eyes again.

  It's as fake as her triple D tits I spent the last two hours with. Convincing enough to deliver the point.

  Once the front door is shut, Warren immediately grunts, “You fucked a married woman?”

  “Technically-”

  “You seriousl
y have no moral code?”'

  “They're separated, drama queen.”

  Warren slams his back against the couch and shakes his head. “How would you feel if it was your mother getting used for a sport fuck by some guy?”

  “One, don't ever put sport fuck and my ma' in the same sentence.”

  And I'm the one with disrespect issues.

  “Two, what my divorced ma' does in that department is none of my business. She's a grown ass woman.”

  Not to mention it would be nice if she fucking moved on after all these years. After all, my father is an asshole for leaving her for whatever piece of random ass came his way to break up their marriage and she deserves to have her needs met. No telling how often those 'late nights' at the office resulted in the stifling of her own sex life. Am I really discussing my mother's sex life? What the shit? See what shrinks do to you?

  “Finally, it's a legal separation. So...you know. No foul. And trust me, when she saw those shots I sank, won me the game.”

  A defeated sigh escapes him. “You really are a miserable human being.”

  I shake my head and have another sip. “I'm a fucking fairly well adjusted person.”

  “You're a case study on the effects of childhood divorce just waiting for a brave soldier to take you on.”

  How bad are you gonna judge me if I tell you I've banged a therapist or two?

  “How long has she been separated? A day? Two?”

  “Ten.”

  “Wow.”

  “Hold your gavel still for a minute Judge Judy. She came on to me.”

  “You couldn't say no?”

  “Who passes on a sure thing when it looks like that?”

  “You do know your cock is not a moral compass?”

  Another chuckle escapes me with a shrug.

  It could be. It is a perfect tool for helping lost pussy find the way to Orgasmville.

  “If I take this bet...”

  He's gonna take it.

  “And you haven't slept with Alexxa by 11: 59 P.M. on August 31st, and by slept with I mean actual fucking, nothing else counts-”

  “Cock to pussy, got it.”

  “-then you, Luca Larson, will pay my half of the rent for the next year. Starting September 1st. That's what you're saying?”

  I nod slowly.

  More to himself than to me he mumbles, “I can't even believe I'm fucking considering this...Alexxa's a person not a rat in the race, if anything you would be the rat-”

  Did he really just call me a rat? For that I'm gonna fuck her on his bed to prove an extended point.

  “-she's got feelings and emotions and...” His voice trails off as he truly begins to weigh the weight of the choices at hand. After a little more self-deliberation, he sighs, “Fuck. Alright. I'm in.”

  Told ya.

  I smile wide and extend my free hand.

  He stares at me disgustedly. “Have you fucking showered since you boned Middle Life Crisis Barbie?”

  I nod. “Afterwards. Always shower afterwards.”

  “You're so fucked up.”

  “For caring about my cleanliness?”

  “For caring more about your cleanliness than your friendship with the only person who's possibly been a better friend to you than I have.”

  “No doubt she has.” My correction makes him frown. “But I've wanted to bone Alexxa for the last three years we've been working together. With her officially quitting, it means I won't have to see her every day, which makes this the perfect time. I'm a Larson. We always get what we want. And I want Alexxa in my bed, calling my name, and cursing God it took her that long to fuck me.” I extend my hand a second time. “Now...do we have a bet?”

  Warren reluctantly shakes. “We have a bet.”

  And so it all begins...

  Alexxa

  “And you're not mad? You swear you're not mad?” Marie, my roommate, sighs from my doorway. She combs through the ends of her black hair. “We can wait. We can totally wait. We can absolutely wait.”

  Do you get the feeling she wants to wait?

  “We-”

  “It's cool.” I shut my laptop. “Really. You guys probably should've moved in together years ago.”

  Not that I have any room to give advice on boyfriends or relationships. My only real relationships with the opposite sex have been with my best guy friends and that's not exactly saying much. I'm basically one of the 'bros'. I've been Dutch ovened and given them more dead legs than I can possibly count. Couples don't behave that way with each other, right?

  “It's a big step,” she argues, her olive color face tinting to a faint green. “Like huge. Like monumental huge. Like can't really breathe huge...It's right next to marriage-”

  “I thought engagement was next to marriage?”

  Marie stops her tangent to huff, “Oh, shut up.”

  My only true female friend. There's probably a deep psychological reason I gravitate towards the opposite sex and if I let Warren spend too much time talking to me about my childhood I know he'll find it. Definite drawback to having a wannabe shrink as one of your PIC’s. Most likely it's a combination of growing up with four sisters I never fit in with because I had more fun throwing dirt with the neighbor boys than twirling in princess dresses, and the simple fact I am my father's favorite since I'm the only one who prefers raunchy humor to cry me a river dramas. Don't give me that look. How many times can one person really watch My Best Friend's Wedding before they contemplate running and 'accidentally' breaking the DVD while their sisters are sleeping? Hm? We're not here to discuss if I actually did it or blamed someone else.

  After I snicker, I try to comfort her while rubbing lotion on my brown hands. “This'll be good. New job, why not a new apartment too?”

  “That's a lot of change.”

  “Yeah, but change isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it's really exciting. For instance instead of meaningless coffee or lunch runs and filing paperwork like I have for the last six months, I'll be helping with clients. Talking to them. Matching them with auditions. I only get a little nervous when I add their parents into the equation. The fact I've had so much experience dealing with parents was one of the reasons Ken wanted me to take over for his assistant. Apparently he has an easier time talking to casting directors than pushy mothers.”

  Marie laughs and shakes her head. “I've seen that show Toddlers and Tiaras. It gets a little scary at times. I can only image as they get older their parents get worse. Should I be worried for your safety? Are you gonna get stabbed if their kid doesn't get the part?”

  I lean back against my pillows and joke, “Guess my self- defense classes may finally come in handy for more than just annoying Luca when he gets drunkenly grabby.”

  The expression on her face changes and I brace myself for what I know is coming.

  Her hate for him has never been subtle. As much as I wanna defend him and tell her he's not the asshole he appears to be, that would be a blatant lie. For the most part, what you see is what you get. I think that's where the appeal is. He doesn't waste time wooing women with promises of tomorrow or pretending he'd rather listen to Taylor Swift than Kansas. He doesn't order a steak to look manly or pretend sports aren't what he lives and breathes. He never apologizes for being him and never asks me to apologize for being me. Luca just does what he wants, when he wants, and doesn't care about the rest of the world's opinion. It makes him oddly charismatic.

  “Where is your favorite dick head tonight?”

  I shrug. “I don't know. It's not like he's got the 'Find Me' app installed in his ass.”

  “As much as you two hang out, he might as well.”

  “And what's that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” she pauses, I assume to search for the less bitchy way to continue. “It means I don't know how you expect to ever find a boyfriend when you spend most of your free time around the most over used tool in the shed.”

  Warren is on her good side. It's why she's not complaining about him an
d Luca.

  I stifle my giggle. “I'm not exactly looking for a boyfriend.”

  Then again, I'm not not looking for one either. I'm totally that girl that's cool if it happens and cool if it doesn't. Honestly. I've got a vibrator and it keeps the orgasms coming. Ha. Get it?