Catch (6 page)

His eyes sparkled. “Well, that’s easy. It’s
Oliver, but I hate it, so don’t use it.”

“Why?”

Grinning, he raised a hand. “You got your
answer, so now we move on.”

“Oh, fine.”

They continued to play. Her heart beat faster
with every turn of a card. No matches. No matches. No matches. She
tapped her foot and held her breath. No matches. No matches.
Finally, a pair of kings.

“War!” she yelled a little too loudly. The
café was nearly empty now, and it almost seemed like they should be
whispering.

Ollie set down three cards on top of his
king. She followed suit and then turned over her fourth card, a six
of hearts. Ollie flipped over a four of spades and groaned.

“I
always
get lucky at this game,” he
sighed. “I think I’ve met my match.”

She glanced at his small stack of cards. She
had at least two-thirds of the entire deck now, since she seemed to
be putting down the highest cards eighty percent of the time.

“You get what you get,” she said with a
shrug, and gathered up her winning cards. She rubbed her hands
together. “So … why did you steal my purse?”

His expression changed from irritation to a
flash of panic and then resolve. He took a bite of pastry, chewing
slower than normal. Was he going to lie to her? She hated liars.
All the guys she had been with were liars. She knew the telltale
signs, at least—if he looked up or down, if he cleared his throat,
if his voice seemed off. But so far he was looking her straight in
the eyes. No throat clearing. He swallowed.

“It’s because of my father,” he said, still
looking straight at her. “See, he’s the head of a big
corporation.”

She nodded, but felt stupid. She didn’t
understand at all. “What big corporation?”

She expected him to call her out for asking
an extra question, but he didn’t. He frowned. “The corporation over
the Bellagio, the MGM Grand, The Mirage, Excalibur, New York-New
York, Circus Circus … I can keep going if you want. It’s not just
casinos in Vegas.”

“Oh.” She ran her finger along the edge of
the table. “So, you’re totally rich.”

“No, my
father
is totally rich, and
he’s pretty much married to his job and wants me to fill his
shoes.”

She looked up, a question on her lips before
she swallowed it back down. He still hadn’t answered the original
question, so she waited.

“I want to fill his shoes one day, don’t get
me wrong,” he continued, “but it frustrates the hell out of me
because he’s so …” He leaned back in his chair and clenched his
jaw. “He’s so controlling. I’m twenty, right?”

She nodded, as if she’d known this all
along.

“Well, he thinks that’s old enough for me to
start working under him full time. For a few years now I’ve been
working for him as an intern. He thinks I don’t have another life,
that I’m in some big hurry to grow up and be just like him.”

Tilting her head, she tried not to laugh.
“Another life? You mean, like a life of crime?”

He snorted and folded his arms. “You sneak
those in there, don’t you?”

“Oh, sorry.” She put her fingers to her lips.
“Habit.”

“I suppose I can give you a freebie answer.
Contrary to what you may believe, I haven’t stolen a lot of purses.
Three … four, counting yours.”

She folded her arms, copying his stance. “My
original question still remains—why did you do it?”

Letting out a big sigh, he leaned forward and
started pushing the flaky crumbs across the table. Again, she
noticed the scars along his knuckles. They were only on his right
hand. She almost felt bad for making him spill so much. He hadn’t
even had a chance to ask her a question yet.

“About three months ago,” he said slowly as
he stared down at his lap, “I had a fight with my father about what
I want to do with my life. I told him I want to be part of the
company, but that I can’t pour myself into it one hundred percent
yet. The man doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand that I want to
do other things like maybe go to college or travel for a while …
or, you know, find people I want to be with.” His eyes flicked up
to hers, and she froze in place. “See, it’s all or nothing for him.
He’s a machine, and he wants me to be a machine too. Ever since my
mother died, he’s been that way. I don’t blame him, but that
doesn’t mean
I
have to be that way too.”

She nodded, following him so far. Her parents
were so carefree she had a hard time imagining them forcing her to
do much of anything. She had chosen her own extracurricular
activities at school. She had dated whoever she wanted without them
interfering. She had chosen her own university. Her life was her
own, and she supposed that was something Ollie had never felt. No
wonder he seemed upset.

“So, during this fight,” he continued, “I
told my father that if he couldn’t give me a little bit of freedom,
that I would have nothing to do with the family business,
ever.”

Her eyes widened, and he continued. “When he
realized I was serious, he started to relent, but then he told me
life is too short to waste it doing things you don’t know are going
to work out or not. His company is a sure bet—it’s guaranteed
security for me. Forever. He doesn’t understand that sometimes …
sometimes people need to make mistakes and take risks to figure out
who they are and what they want.”

She nodded and realized she was taking a risk
just sitting here in front of Ollie. Was it because she wanted to
figure out who she was? Ollie fascinated her, no doubt about that.
She wanted to dig into him and find out what made him tick—and,
most of all, why he made her feel so alive whenever she talked to
him.

He let out a heavy sigh and wiped a hand
across his forehead, pushing up his baseball cap. “This is a long
answer, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind, really,” she said. “I’m sorry
if it’s stressful for you. I can … I can leave if you want.”

He pushed his cap back down on his head.
“What? No. I’m almost finished, it’s all right. So, my father told
me if I really felt that way, then he wasn’t going to support me
anymore. He seized all my accounts. He evicted me from my apartment
since he owns the complex. I really only have one bag of stuff that
belongs to me now. He sold everything I left behind. He took my
car. He even canceled my phone service.”

The air in her lungs seemed to have been
sucked right out. She opened her mouth a few times, speechless.

“That can’t be legal,” she finally managed to
say.

He grunted something harsh under his breath.
“If you’re my father, it doesn’t matter. He can get away with
pretty much anything when it comes to me. I wasn’t left completely
high and dry, although I’m sure he wanted me to be. I’ve been
living at the Bellagio. Not everyone loves my father to pieces, and
I know a few employees there who have helped me. So far, my father
hasn’t found out.”

“So the purse stealing …”

“I’m getting to that.”

She nodded, as if this was perfectly logical,
as if everything he was telling her justified him stealing other
people’s stuff. Then again, was that any worse than what his dad
was doing to him?

“A few months ago, before any of this
happened with my father, I was walking on the Strip and I saw a man
steal a woman’s purse. He did it so perfectly, so quietly, that it
didn’t register what had happened until a minute after the fact. I
started paying more attention to stuff going on around me. I hung
out in that same area, and, sure enough, a few days later I saw the
same man stealing another purse. This time, I followed him. I was
going to turn him in, but then he started talking to me. He said it
was how he survived. He told me he could teach me some secrets if I
didn’t turn him in. I don’t know why I agreed. I guess I was
curious. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that in my life—talk
to a criminal like that. It was exciting, in a way. It felt like
giving my father the finger, even though he had no idea I’d done
it.”

So that was when you started stealing
purses.
He’d done it because he was curious. Her eyebrows
pushed together, and he looked up at her with widened eyes.

“That’s not when I started stealing purses,”
he explained quickly, as if he’d read her mind. “All I said was I
talked to him. I thought it was interesting, and that was the end
of it.”

She gave him a hopeful look, urging him to
keep going.

“Until my father took everything away from
me,” he said, as if pushing it out of a dark corner. “I was angry
and hurt, and even though I had exactly what I thought I
wanted—freedom—for someone like me who’s used to having whatever he
wants and needs, I sure don’t feel very free. My friends at the
Bellagio have helped me out as much as they can. They’ve helped me
stay in a room there, but that’s all they can really do, short of
lending me money. I was too proud to ask, too proud to beg, and too
stupid to think I could get it easily. I hit the casinos first,
since I’m all right at some of the games. I made a fair
amount—enough to live off for a while, anyway. I figured if I could
keep rolling it in and making
something
, I’d be okay,
right?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“Except … my father pretty much has his hands
in everything, including the casinos, even ones he doesn’t own. He
knows people. He must have started spreading the word to keep me
out of as much gaming as possible. I was told to leave tables over
and over, and if I wasn’t told, I was pretty much driven away
because I couldn’t seem to win no matter what I did.”

Miranda was starting to feel sick to her
stomach.

“My father’s point was clear,” Ollie said.
“He found me on the Strip one night and offered to give everything
back to me if I’d start working for him as a full-time employee.
But I was stupid and I said no. I told him what he’d done to me was
better than being controlled by him. I told him I’d find another
job and be just fine. He told me good luck and left, and I knew … I
knew he was going to do everything in his power to keep me from
succeeding. See, I know my father pretty well by now. I know this
can’t go on forever. We care about each other too much, even if
that sounds crazy to you. This is a game to him—a way to teach me a
lesson, to show me what it’s like with no money, no security, no
options. And he’s right. He really is. I’d probably be happier
giving in, but then … well—”

“No!” Miranda leaned forward and grabbed his
hand. “You can’t give in to that. He’s a tyrant.”

“He’s my father.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make any of this
right. All you wanted was a little freedom, and look what he’s done
to you.”

“That’s what I thought too. That’s what I
thought when I saw that man steal another purse, and I thought to
myself, there’s something my father can’t control. So I did it. I
stole a purse, and then another, and another. I sold what I could,
used the money to get another phone and buy some new clothes so I
could try to build myself from the ground up. Then … then
you
happened.”

She froze with her fingers still curled
around his hand. He was warm, and she had to admit touching him
sent a thrill straight through her like an electric current.

“What about me?” she whispered.

He looked down at her hand and then returned
his attention to her eyes, his voice dead serious as he said,
“You’ll have to win another round to get your answer to that.”

“You … ugh!” She was halfway between laughing
and reaching out to punch him in the arm. “Fine.”

They started slapping down their cards as
fast as possible, but she could see she was losing her edge as
Ollie took more and more of her cards. Finally, two jacks. Miranda
set three cards face down on top of her jack and flipped over her
fourth at the same time as Ollie. Hers was a two of diamonds and
his was an ace of hearts.
Damn.

“About time,” he said, gathering up his
spoils. “So, dear Miranda, you must answer truthfully …”

She kept her eyes on his, her stomach turning
over at the thought of what he might ask her. She had a feeling he
didn’t know how to ask trivial questions.

“Why did you call your phone after I stole
your purse?”

She stopped herself from letting out a sigh
of relief. She didn’t want it to seem like it was too easy to
answer, not after he had spilled out so much painful information to
her.

“It was my sister’s idea,” she explained.
“She dialed my number because she thought it would be funny and
that I’d get over losing everything easier if I saw that trying to
reach you was pointless. But it turns out it wasn’t pointless, so I
guess the joke was on her in the end.”

He smiled. “So she dialed and you took the
phone?”

“Yep. I had a mini heart attack when you
answered.”

“I almost didn’t answer.”

“Oh?” That was a surprise. He had sounded so
confident when he had answered.

He poked at his stack of cards, making them
fall sideways. “Yeah, but I was looking at your driver’s license
when your phone rang and you looked so … so nice … and pretty … and
you’d chased after me. I wanted to know what kind of a person would
be brave enough to do that. So I answered.”

He thought she was pretty? She tried to
control the blush she knew must be all over her face, and then
realized they were answering each other’s questions outside of the
game rules.

Ollie must have realized it too. He
straightened his cards and cleared his throat. “Despite the risk of
you thinking I’m a little stalker-ish for staring at your driver’s
license, let’s, uh, move on.”

“All right.”

They slapped down some more cards. Ollie’s
pile was growing dangerously large. She wondered what would happen
if she ended up with nothing and the game was officially over.
Would the questions stop? Would Ollie feel relieved because he
wouldn’t have to spill more information?