The Player, The Thief and The Broken Heart - Chapter Eighty-Seven - A Fixer-Upper

Jeannie sat on a folding chair next to a bank of computer monitors. She rested her head on the desk. Lord, she was tired and was it ever hitting her now. She wished she'd been able to doze off like Jimmy. Instead of spending the next three quarters of an hour mired in disappointment and listening to his quiet snore. Sure they'd kissed and he had seemed happy to see her. Even said he'd always loved her and always will. Meanwhile she'd said nothing in response. Why?

Rebecca crouched next to her and began stroking her back. "You okay, hon?"

"I guess," she said, wishing sleep would come. So why hadn't she told Johnny she loved him. She wasn't sure she did anymore. She also felt guilty for bedding Steve. It didn't matter that she hadn't stayed overnight in the hotel with him. They had had sex. And Steve was an extremely accomplished lover. Jimmy had always been kinda clumsy, truth be told. But then, he'd had a lot less experience. Steve had always had a reputation for sleeping around. Face it, she said to herself, he's a manwhore.

"Need something to eat? There's a stack of cold pizzas including a plain pepperoni."

She should eat. She didn't feel like eating, but she should. And cold pizza was one of those things she could always get down no matter how sick she felt. "Yeah, thanks."

She closed her eyes, dozing off until she could hear Rebecca setting a paper plate nearby. She sat upright and bit into the congealed point of the slice. The sauce was tangy and a little too sweet. After swallowing, she said, "Thanks, Becks."

Rebecca ruffled her hair and sat down next to her. They ate in silence, Jeannie feeling as if she was in a daze. Those vodkas had worn off and she could stand a coffee. Or water before any hangover began setting in. As if reading her mind, Rebecca took out a cold bottle of diet cola for her and cracked the lid open. "Thanks. You're the best."

"I was worried you'd be mad at me for lying to you all these years," Rebecca said.

Jeannie hunched her shoulders. "What choice did you have? I always knew something wasn't on the up and up with what you were telling me and that it was probably for a reason."

Rebecca smiled. "You have no idea how hard it was for me not to confide in you. Even Frank only knows the half of it. But that same personality trait makes it easy for other people to trust me. I am on the right side of the law if not always there ethically in terms of personal honor."

"Honor," Jeannie sighed. What did she herself know about honor. She froze as she caught sight of Steve out of the corner of her eye. Of all people in the world to be in here tonight. With Jimmy still somewhere outside. Bile rose in her throat and she wasn't sure eating that pizza was what was saving her from throwing up, or making her feel as if she was about to. Was he some secret agent who had been playing her the entire time?

He approached her slowly, a sullen look on his face. An expression she matched. Rebecca made herself scarce; Jeannie wished she had stayed. "What are you doing here?"

He flinched at her harsh tone. "Does it matter? I doubt you'd believe me anyway; I have trouble believing it myself."

"So you just fell into this poker tournament and now happen to be out here with the secret service from two different countries?"

"I'd heard about Szabo being out of that a poker tourney. And with no one rumored to replace him. The night after I met up with you I was drunk and acting like an idiot, saw Yushenko, and basically threw down the gauntlet at him saying I want in on the game. If this were the seventeen hundreds we'd have settled it with a duel and I'd be dead by now because I can't aim a gun for shit. My poker game wasn't so bad though."

Jeannie laughed. She liked Steve's admission about being a drunken idiot as well. Jimmy lacked a sense of humor about himself. He'd be so much happier if he was less serious, less prideful. She was one to talk, she thought guiltily. She and Jimmy had been drawn together because they were so much alike. That wasn't always a good thing. Especially if it was mostly bad traits they shared. She eyed his designer clothes and coiffed blond hair, realizing she had next to nothing in common with him. That wasn't usually a good thing either.

"Probably none of my business," Steve rasped, "but are you getting back together with Jimmy? I thought I saw him just outside."

She shook her head. Too often in recent days she'd seen a side to him that she didn't like. A deeply emotionally unstable side. Bad enough she'd ignored all those red flags with her ex. "I was married once," she said suddenly.

Steve nodded. "I heard."

Of course he'd heard; part and parcel of hailing from a town of a few thousand where even the nearest Wal-Mart was thirty miles away. She looked down at her bare finger where a wedding band used to be. Any trace of a tan line was long gone. "I thought I had meant it when I said those vows. Obviously I didn't. Jimmy was the one who convinced me to break it off with him. And I mean, he was right to. My husband was a dick."

She thought she could hear Steve whisper under his breath that Jimmy was no better.

"For nearly five years he sponged off me. Barely held down a job all that time, smoked weed and lay on the couch all day. Denied he was depressed. Only so much a person can do."

"I have a live-in girlfriend who's been pressuring me to get married and start a family. And yet when I called home the other night some guy picked up."

Steve being a cheater and seeing a cheater was no surprise. Nor was what he said next.

"I'll probably marry her anyway. On social media she'll be the perfect wife just like she's the perfect girlfriend now," he said bitterly.

"Why do we do that," she asked, aware she'd done the same thing once upon a time. Although her situation was different. She'd carried on to her friends and family that she'd married a saint. She was too ashamed to admit she'd gotten hitched to a lowlife until Jimmy convinced her to ditch the guy. Mainly because Jimmy figured he'd be next in line. "Why do people play pretend to everyone, instead of trying to find something real?"

"Because that is what's real. Perfection doesn't exist. It's an ideal people might strive for, and maybe a few luck out, but for most of us, we have to make tradeoffs. My girlfriend is a lot of things: she's selfish, princessey, kind of a narcissist ... but she's also beautiful, smart, she understands the demands of my career because she works in the same industry, she's a genius at pretending to like the douchebags we have to wine and dine, we're into the same lifestyle, overall we're a decent match." He was almost blushing as he hunched his shoulders.

"Jimmy's not a good match for me," she said ruefully.

He stroked her cheek. "He will be. He just needs to grow more. I think you could help him do it. Some men need a good woman to keep them in line. They fall apart on their own."

She suspected he was talking about himself. He'd also moved his seat closer. Their knees began touching. A frisson raced up her spine as she took in the faint, musky scent she'd breathed in deeply last night in his suite. "Jeannie," he whispered, his breath hot on her ear. "I really want to fuck you again before I fly back home."

It was hard not to be flattered by him. She was used to male attention, but not from men the caliber of Steve. The kind of man who hit on her usually had neck tattoos. She imagined him already kissing down the side of her neck. She shook her head. Enough being stupid or rather, making stupid decisions. She was smarter than that. Steve had given her plenty of hints that he was not a decent guy. Not in terms of what she wanted. First and foremost she wanted someone who could be faithful. Unlike her ex. Or Steve. "I'm sorry."

"Can't hurt to ask." He smiled rakishly as he stood again. That was what made certain men so attractive, Jeannie thought. They can take no for an answer instead of begging and pleading. There wasn't that fear you'd break their heart, or that they'd start stalking or threatening you. With Jimmy she was always scared of the former and with most other guys she met, the latter.

Steve turned his head and stared toward the exit, where a man in a dark suit was beckoning him. "Some paperwork I have to fill out. They might be offering me a job in their financial crimes unit." He scoffed, "From what I witnessed at my last place of employment, I didn't know there was such a thing."

"Good luck, Steve."

"Same to you." He trailed his fingers along her shoulder. She watched him saunter off. Before heading to that table though where the man was waiting, though, Steve went to the exit. He opened the door and poked his head out. Seconds later, Jimmy angled himself in. He looked nervously at Jeannie before heading towards her. She smiled and his pace picked up.

She sniffed. He reeked of cigarettes. But underneath, was that faint sandalwood scent that used to make her dissolve around him. Jokingly, she nudged his shin with her toe and said, "You need to kick that filthy habit already."

"I will. Once I get over this hump first." Steve was right; he still had some growing up to do. But getting to know his father again might help with that; the man seemed good at setting an example for Jimmy not to follow if nothing else. He sat in the chair next to her and she shifted closer.

"I'm glad you made it out okay. So what happened with you earlier?"

"These German henchmen were trying to kidnap me, but your father's henchmen got to me first and threw me in the back of that van. It was scary, let me tell you!"
His face twisted up into a confused scowl. "German?"

"Oh my gosh," Jeannie giggled. "This German businessman Herr Burkhard along with this arms dealer that had accompanied that Arab prince. Turns out Yushenko uses all these shell companies and his hotel operations to keep tabs on them and they thought I was one of his operatives. And this ninety-year-old French lady with some fancy title like Marquess or something was in on this same conspiracy! Can you believe it?"

"No," Jimmy said. "Assuming they're telling you even a close approximation of the truth."

"I hadn't thought of that. But really, I'm just glad the night is over." She offered Jimmy a bite of her pizza and when he declined, she finished it. He did take her up on a sip or two of her cola.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "You and I both could do without having had to go through the previous twenty-four hours."

"I don't know. Now that I came out of it in one piece ... It'll be a good story to tell one day."

"A story for the grandkids," he said and she thought she heard a hopeful note in his voice.

"Gotta have kids first for that to ever happen."

"Gotta have a decent job first so as to afford the kids," he sighed.

Maybe this was a fool's errand, or maybe she could dig him out of that pit of despair. She never could rescue her ex-husband from his couch potato ways, but then, he didn't want to be rescued and was hardly about to lift a finger to help himself. Jimmy was a renovation project, true, but he was no rat-infested tear-down. Jeannie would take a quality fixer-upper with a good foundation any day over the gleaming suburbanite McMansion of the sort Steve represented.

"Steve was saying word on Wall Street is all this talk of green shoots has momentum.

They say the real economy is picking up again so fast that in year's time this financial meltdown will seem like a blip."

To her relieved surprise his face brightened. He seemed about to add to her point when his dad summoned him. He pecked her forehead and whispered an apology. "Hopefully this won't take long."