Page 16 of Blame it on the Bet
“We could pay off the loan. Like investors…taking repayments once the pub starts to turn a profit again.”
Win puts his fork down and narrows his eyes at his wife. “We who?”
“We! You and I. Us, Win. It’s not like we don’t have the money.”
“Oh my God!” I gasp, suddenly excited by the prospect. “That could work!”
“No.”
Win utters the single word with such finality that I feel as if I’m watching a father with his wayward daughter.
“I’m sorry…no?” she echoes incredulously.
“That’s right, Jameson. No. It’s my family’s money. Money I earn. I will not let you throw it out the window to support some failing dive money pit.”
I cannot believe he just said that, and apparently, neither can my sister, who’s gone very still. Suddenly, I feel as if I’m in the eye of a storm, where an unsettling calm lies while tumultuous destruction roars all around.
“Hennessy, please excuse us. Win and I are going to speak in the kitchen for a moment.”
“What? But I’m not done eating…” he whines.
One sharp look from my sister and he’s throwing his fork down on the dining room table to follow her.
I get up and move to the chair that Big Win vacated, next to Jackson. He’s looking up at me with that beautiful little cherub face. I pull him out of the high chair and put him on my lap.
“Hey there, sweet boy,” I say, bouncing him on my knee. He smiles, but he’s not his usual playful self. It’s not hard to understand why—the tension in this house is thick enough to cut with a knife.
I can hear snippets of what sounds to be a very intense, hushed conversation not fifty feet away from me. It’s not that I want to listen. In fact, I’m suddenly wishing I’d taken Big Win’s cue and left early. I don’t like seeing Jameson like this—under the thumb of a man for whom she gave up her career. Whose child she raises and whose meals she cooks while he’s out shagging half of Mayhem. I’d like to say that last part is just speculation, but dipstick isn’t especially discreet in his extracurricular activities, clearly believing Jameson to be too dim to figure it out. And, while Jameson is a lot of things, dim is not one of them. She knows full well what he’s up to…though why she doesn’t leave him is a mystery to us all.
“…since when?” I hear Jameson hiss. Then I lose most of his reply, but I do catch the end of it.
“…And if you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”
That’s followed by loud stomping through the other side of the house and up the stairs. I look down at the baby, who’s using his chubby fingers as chew toys.
“Come on, little man. Let’s go see how Mommy’s doing,” I murmur as I stand up and seat him on my hip. When we walk into the kitchen, Jameson is bent over the sink, bracing herself against the counter as she shakes with silent sobs. “Oh, James!” I rush to her and pat her back gently. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t you worry about it…”
“No,” she sniffs, turning to face us. “No, it’s not going to be okay. It’s never going to be okay because I’m married to a horrible human being, Henny.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that. She’s right. And I’m not going to blow smoke up her apron just to make her feel better about the creep she’s hitched her wagon to.
Little Jackson reaches out for his mother.
“Maaaammaaaa…” he gurgles.
Jameson abruptly stops crying, wipes her tears with the back of her hand, and pulls her son into her arms.
“Hello, my love,” she coos into his ear as he snuggles in to rest his head on her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, baby boy. Mama’s going to take care of everything.” She puts a hand on my forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure this out. I wish I could say Win will come around, but that’s not very likely, I’m afraid.”
“What a douche,” I mutter under my breath. “Hennessy, language, please!” Jameson squawks at me. “Oh, please. The kid isn’t paying any attention,” I assure her. It’s at that very second that the imp pulls his head off his mother’s shoulder, smiles brightly, and yells.
“Doosh! Doosh, Mama! Dooooosh!”
“Yeah…I’ll just let myself out,” I say, gathering my coat and getting out the door as fast as I can.
Chapter Eight
BRYAN
