Wild Card by Ashley Munoz

Chapter Three

“Why didn’tyou tell him to shove that article up his ass?” Hillary, one of my best friends, asked, shoving her plastic spoon in my face. I had just dropped the bomb on her that Trevor had turned down my article. So far, she’d cussed in Mandarin, and now she was pacing the floor like a panther.

“Well, for starters, it’s my article, so I don’t want it up his ass—I want it printed in the paper.” I sat cross-legged in a pair of yoga pants and a loose shirt. I needed to try to breathe. Things were happening so fast my chest continually felt like it was bursting open, one fast thump at a time.

I’d woken up from a nightmare the night prior, where instead of Trevor telling me I didn’t get the spot, it was my mom. I’d turned into a little girl, and the people in the room were all Minecraft characters.

“Still, that fucker has a flat tire waiting for him.” Hillary tossed her spoon back into her pudding cup and angrily put it in my tiny garbage.

“Hil, he’s not even worth your energy.” I closed my eyes and envisioned a peaceful lake. Suddenly Hillary was on the lake, in a kayak, waving at me. I opened my eyes.

“Get your dad to whack him,” she whispered, sitting inches from my face.

I closed my eyes tight and kicked my legs out from under me. “My dad isn’t in the mob.”

“He’s a millionaire—don’t be a baby about this. Just tell him what happened, and I bet all on his own, he’ll decide to kill him.”

“He’s not in the mob!” I yelled at her, standing up. I grabbed my shirt from the hem and tugged it over my head.

“But he’s got the money to make him disappear, so just tell him. That’s all I’m saying.” She winked at me conspiratorially, lifting her hands in mock surrender. Hillary had met my dad a thousand times over the years, and she knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I had no idea why she kept going on about the mob.

“What I need is an idea. I’m not giving up…I know I don’t have six months, but I can wrangle something together. I mean, I have to try.” I grabbed for my red hoodie and held it close to my chest, wishing it still held the power to feel lucky. Even if it wasn’t real, that feeling I’d once had was everything.

“What you need is a new wardrobe.” She carefully tugged the hoodie off my body. I slapped her hand away.

“I’m serious…hey, wait!” I snapped my fingers at her a few times, trying to remember what I’d heard. “What do you know about the Devils and their card game?”

Hillary’s pink lips twisted as she pushed her black-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Um…not much. I think I heard they host a party of some kind, hand out these cards, but I don’t know what they do with them.”

Shit. My shoulders slumped as the last piece of hope drifted out of me like air escaping a leaky balloon. My best friend came and sat next to me, putting her arm around me. She and Juan were the only two friends I didn’t have spatial anxiety with. They could touch me any time they wanted, and I wouldn’t freak out. That’s not to say we hadn’t had our issues, but now, we were past it.

“Why are you suddenly asking about the Devils? You don’t do sports, babe.”

I laughed; as if I needed that reminder, but it also felt good to have someone in my life who knew me in a way that I needed to be known.

“Taylor got this card…it says home run on the back. She was invited to the party…or something.” I furrowed my brows, unsure of how to explain all the details she’d provided the day prior. “I also think I saw them meeting in the bar the other night, when I went with my classmates.”

“You went without me?” She pinched me.

“Ow!” I pinched her back. “Don’t pinch me…we were celebrating my article…” I trailed off, feeling so stupid for jinxing myself with that damn night. I should have just gone home and slept like a good introvert.

“This might be why you didn’t get accepted.” She crossed her arms.

I scoffed. “Seriously, Hil…you’re ridiculous.” I stood, moving to my door, knowing she’d follow after me.

“You know I’m right. Don’t go places without me anymore,” she scolded while we treaded down the hall into the kitchen. On the back porch, we saw Taylor face timing someone, and in her hand was the card she’d gotten from the team.

Hillary seemed to notice it too.

With both our hips pinned to the sink, my best friend said, “You should write your story on the team and have your sister help you. It’s too convenient not to.” She turned toward me, her intelligent eyes bright with mischief.

I let out a heavy sigh, facing the window and realizing this might be my only shot.

* * *

“Taylor!”I elbowed the front door shut as I ambled toward the kitchen with my arms full. I had bought sushi and boba tea for my stepsister in hopes that she would be open to helping me.

“Mal, you’re home early.” Taylor walked out of her room, hugging her sweater to her chest. I’d blown off my entire afternoon for this conversation, so yes, I was home early; part of me wanted to keep her in suspense just to see if she’d ask me why. I knew it didn’t come natural for her, but she needed to start getting past that issue and pretend to care about others.

I didn’t have time to wait for her to care, though.

“Taylor, I need you to do me a favor.”

I handed her the food and tea I’d purchased for her, hoping to butter her up to do my bidding.

“What’s going on…you have that look in your eye that you get when you’re brainstorming a new story lead.” She sat down on the coffee table, crossed her legs, and took a sip of her drink.

“You’re going to the party tomorrow night, right?” I sat across from her, mentally struggling to push past my sensory issues. I lived with Taylor, so I didn’t feel the anxiety spike as much, unless we were crowded in a tight space…somewhat like we were now.

“Yeah, of course.” She toyed with the blue straw in her cup and eyed the food bag to our left.

“Okay…I need you to try to record some of what you see, or describe it into your recording app, or just call me so I can hear what’s going on while you’re there.”

Her face scrunched in that unfavorable way. “What?”

“Just hear me out,” I started cautiously, but I’d already lost her.

She stood and let out some kind of scoffing sound, her blue eyes widened in shock. “I am not spying on the Devils for you.”

“I don’t want to spy on them…I just want some insider info on the game.” I followed her around the living room like a lost puppy.

“Is this game your next story lead?” The incredulous tone in her voice made me slightly flinch.

“No, I just…” Shit, it would have been a good idea to think of something to say prior to this moment so I had an excuse or something other than spying. “I just want to be sure you’re safe.”

“No way. I’m not that stupid, Mal. I know what you’re doing.” She wagged her finger at me, and my stomach bottomed out as the window for my potential story began to close.

I licked my lips and tried a different tactic. “Look, Trevor shot down my last story, but he’s giving me one last chance to come up with something to be featured so Kline Global might pick me.”

She rolled her eyes, and the sight of it hit me in the chest. “Just ask Dad! I don’t know why you do this to yourself. We both have the key to any job we want. You know what Dad would say in this situation.”

It burned like acid eating away my esophagus to hear her call my dad her dad. I knew that it was dumb. He was a dad to her and the only one she’d ever known, but I didn’t have the same relationship with her mother. Not even close.

“Tay, it’s not that simple. He can’t put in a good word for me with this one.”

“He has stock in Kline Global, like he’s a pretty big shareholder—he could easily make this happen for you.” She crossed her arms defensively, her boba tea forgotten on the coffee table, sans coaster.

“I don’t want that.” I swallowed down the thick need to justify my actions. It would just end up in a confusing argument that we both walked away from without hearing the other one out. She never understood why I tried so hard when we essentially held the keys to the kingdom. My father, a self-made millionaire, was the new king of the city and owned so much of the East Coast it was hard not to feel like the princess he was dying to make me. I worked hard to ensure I didn’t act like it, at least, but Taylor hated it when I did.

“I know you don’t, but spying on the team and writing about them isn’t a good idea. I’ve heard stories about the team, Mal…” She stalked closer so we were eye to eye. She quieted her voice too, like she wanted to be sure I heard her. “I’ve heard dangerous things about them, and you need to be careful.”

“All the more reason for you not to go alone!” I stood, swinging my hand toward her. This was ridiculous.

“I was invited, so I’ll be fine, but if you go snooping where you shouldn’t…I think that will end poorly for you, and I worry about you.” Her eyes pleaded with me to drop this, and for some reason, the look there made me wonder what she knew but wasn’t telling me.

I held her gaze and slowly nodded my head in understanding.

I’d drop it for the time being, but there had to be a way to get into that party.