Spades Over Heart
by Kattali

He had it in the bag� the winning hand, a royal flush. He laid the cards out, feeling slightly cocky although he couldn�t show it. It was too risky. He needed this win. He was in way too deep.

�Pity,� Reznick smirked. �One thinks his luck has turned only to find that he is destined to always be a loser.� He spread out his hand. A royal flush . . . in spades.

Benton went numb. He had it in the bag. A royal flush. Hearts. What were the odds of beating that hand? Lady Luck had betrayed him. Reznick pushed away from the table without bothering to collect his winnings. There was no need. They were at his private casino in the backroom with bodyguards. Reznick was a powerful man. He lit a cigar while calculating his next move.

Benton sat silently. He had to figure a way out of this mess. He was a fast talker. His skills as a con artist, of sorts, had gotten him far in life. However, it destroyed his marriage. Drove his wife away, but he got to keep his kid. There was no way he was going to give up his kid. No way.

�We have a problem, Benton,� Reznick announced. �A five hundred thousand dollar problem.� He took a drag from his cigar. The smoke curled around his head. �Now what do you suppose we�re going to do about this little problem?�

�I�ll get you the money.�

�You live in a fantasy world, Benton. You haven�t figured out that you can�t play with the Big Boys unless you are one of the Big Boys. And that you are not.� Reznick shook his head in disgust. �You never learn.�

�I can come up with the money. I swear. I just need some time.�

�Time costs. You can�t afford it.�

Everything Reznick said was true. Benton didn�t have the money. He had no means to come up with the money except taking a win at the tracks. What were the chances of that? Lady Luck was not on his side. It was true that time cost. Five hundred thousand could easily grow to a million in a few days. Benton was backed into a corner.

�There is a way we can settle this,� Reznick said matter-of-factly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benton stumbled up the stairs, grabbing the railing to support himself. He had never fallen. He glanced down the stairs. Steep as they may be he had never fallen. Not once. All the times he had come home compromised he had never fallen. He had learned to live compromised. It was something he did well.

He stood at the top of the stairs, looking at the door to his kid�s room. It was partly open. A dim light shone inside. He smiled to himself. His fifteen-year-old kid couldn�t sleep without a night-light. It was the kid�s mother�s fault. He couldn�t punish the kid for the faults of that woman. His kid was a good boy. Never gave him a problem. Never had to worry about him. Yes, his kid was a good boy.

Benton made his way to the master bedroom taking swigs of bourbon on the way. He sat down on the bed loosening his tie with one hand.

�Dad?�

�Hey, Champ,� Benton smiled. �What are you doing up?�

�I heard you come in,� Micah said softly. �It�s really late, Dad. I was worried.�

�Come here,� he gestured.

The slender blue-eyed blond boy, dressed in only his underwear, went to his father�s open arms. Benton held his son tightly feeling the warmth of his bare chest.

�You�re my good boy.�

�I love you, Dad.� Micah breathed in the familiar smell of alcohol. He took the bottle of bourbon from his father and placed it on the nightstand. �Time for bed.�

�You�re my good boy,� Benton mumbled.

Micah undressed his father like he had many times before. He knew all too well how the sirens lured his father to drinking. They made him weak to their seduction.

�Lie down, Dad.�

Benton pulled at the covers and slid under them. �Lady Luck let your old man down tonight.�

�Sorry, Dad. She shouldn�t have let you down.� He switched off the lamp.

�Hey, Champ.� Benton grabbed his son�s hand. �Daddy doesn�t want to be alone tonight.�

Micah slipped under the covers and allowed his father to pull him in close. It was familiar. Familiar warmth. Familiar hands. Familiar lips. Familiar. . .

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benton woke up to the familiar smell of the smoky, rich sweet aroma of dark-roasted coffee. Micah sat cross-legged on the bed holding the mug of steaming brew, smiling.

�It�s kind of early, Champ.�

�Dad, it�s three in the afternoon.�

Benton looked over at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. A bold white three-colon-zero-five stared back, but for some reason it didn�t fully register.

�You�ll feel better after you have some coffee and a shower.� Micah put the mug on the nightstand. �I�ll heat up the water for you.�

�Wait.� Benton reached for his son, catching him by the arm. �We need to talk.�

�About what?�

It was the way he said it-- innocence and guilt at the same time. Benton knew his kid all too well. However, whose innocence and whose guilt?

�Never mind. We�ll talk later,� Benton said.

Micah walked hesitantly to the master bathroom to run the shower. He was worried. He hated �the talks� his father had with him. They always meant trouble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benton poured himself another cup of coffee. He stared into the black liquid as if staring into a black hole, wishing that it would swallow him up. His head pounded. The pain relievers he took earlier had done nothing to ease his headache. He grabbed the pile of mail on the counter and with coffee cup in hand he eased his way over to the kitchen table.

Benton looked at the clock. He never noticed before how the sweep hand jerked ahead by two seconds each time instead of a smooth motion. It was irritating. The pile of mail was just as annoying. Benton tossed bill after bill aside. He threw the junk mail into another pile. Then he came upon an envelope clearly marked with the return address of Micah�s school.

Benton sighed heavily, shaking his head. He opened it slowly. The throbbing in his head intensified.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benton threw the letter down in Micah�s lap. �Do you want to explain this?�

Micah�s eyes never left the television screen. He pushed the letter off his lap onto the floor. �Not really.�

�Let me put this another way. Tell me why you have failure warnings in all your classes, and why you are going to be suspended if you get one more detention.�

�Cause I�m not doing good on my grades and cause if you get four detentions then you get suspended. That�s the rule,� Micah shrugged. �It�s in the school handbook.�

�God damn it!� Benton grabbed the remote control and shut off the television. �What the fuck are you doing? You�re a smart kid! There is no God damn fucking reason you should be failing. You�re not doing your fucking homework? You�re fucking up on the tests? What the fuck is it about this time?�

�I don�t know.�

�God damn it.� He rubbed the back of his neck. �You do this every fucking time, Micah! You start off good and then you fuck it up.�

Micah sat silently.

�What the fuck are all these detentions about? Why wasn�t I notified?�

�I don�t know. You were notified. I took care of it.�

�God damn it. Don�t give me that fucking shit. What did you do to get the detentions?�

�Nothing!� Micah yelled, meeting his father�s eyes for the first time with a glare. �Those assholes at school started fights with me! I didn�t do anything, Dad!�

�God damn fucking kids. They�re harassing you?�

�Duh! What the fuck do you think they�re doing? They do it at every school. I�m not a fucking athlete, Dad! They fuck with every kid who isn�t into sports.�

�I�ll fucking raise Hell with that school. No one fucks with my kid!� Benton started pacing.

�It will make things worse, Dad!�

�God damn it! Every god damn fucking school.�

Micah sat silently as his father paced.

�Stay away from those kids,� his father said. �You see them coming, you walk the other way.�

�Dad! They come up from behind me and shove me into the lockers! How the fuck am I suppose to get out their way?�

�God damn it, Micah! I don�t have all the answers! You think it�s fucking easy for me? Do you? I�m doing my fucking best here, Micah!�

�I�m doing my best, Dad. I�m trying. I�m really trying.� Micah crossed his arms and hung his head.

Benton let out a deep breath. Too many times he�d seen his kid look that way�defeated. He sat down and put his arms around his distraught son. He held him tightly.

�I know you�re trying, Champ. You�re my good boy. I love you, Champ. You know that right?�

�Yeah, Dad. I love you, too.�

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few minutes seemed like hours as he held his boy.

�Champ, your dad is in trouble,� Benton confessed.

�What kind of trouble?� Micah asked.

�I owe some money. A lot of money.�

�Oh. . . �cause of Lady Luck letting you down?�

Benton nodded. �I had it in the bag, Champ. A royal flush.�

�That beats everything.�

�It sure does. I had it in the bag.� Benton laughed softly. �But I lost everything. Everything.�

�How come?�

�My opponent had a royal flush. Spades.�

�I don�t get it,� Micah admitted.

�Spades over hearts, Champ,� Benton said. �Spades over hearts.�

Micah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. �How much money, Dad?�

Benton shook his head and shrugged his shoulder. How could he explain?

�Dad! No!� Micah jumped up off the couch and stood before his father. The disbelief in his son�s eyes pulled shame to the surface once again. �You promised, Dad! You promised.�

�I know. I had it in the bag, Champ. I had it in the bag.� As much as he tried to make it convincing his voice betrayed him.

�What are we going to do?� Fear registered in Micah�s eyes. �Dad!�

�There�s a way out,� Benton took his son�s hand and pulled him back onto the couch. �Listen to me. I have a way out.�

�Are they going to beat you up, Dad?�

�No, Champ.�

�They almost killed you last time, Dad. I don�t have anyone but you.� Micah�s eyes filled with tears.

�No one is going to get beat up. I swear, Champ. But I need your help.�

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benton rested his hand on Micah�s knee and gave it a gentle tap.

�Everything will be okay, Champ,� he whispered.

A door opened and a tall distinguished man entered. Cigar smoke filled the room.

�Benton, you�ve come to pay your debt.�

�Yes, I have.�

�Where are your manners, you ungrateful bastard? Stand up when you are spoken to and address me properly,� Reznick snapped.

Benton was on his feet within seconds. �Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.�

Reznick walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of brandy.

�This is your son?� he gestured toward the boy on the couch.

�Yes. Yes,� Benton said nervously. He took Micah by the elbow and raised him to his feet. �This is Micah.�

Reznick�s eyes studied the boy.

�Say hello, Micah,� Benton urged.

�Um � hello,� Micah said softly.

�Take off your shirt boy,� Reznick ordered.

�Daddy?� There was panic in Micah�s voice.

�You do know why you are here?� The older man looked at Micah and then at Benton.

�Do as he asks,� Benton told his son.

Micah pulled his lower lip through his teeth. He closed his eyes and pulled off his shirt. This was just a dream, a bad dream.

Benton watched Reznick drink in his kid�s naked torso. The boy�s slender pale body and pink tiny nipples caused the older man noticeable excitement. Benton�s cock twitched in response.

Reznick took a drink of brandy then ran his tongue over his lips. Micah blushed and lowered his eyes. His blond hair glistened. His long lashes fluttered as he anxiously stared at the floor. Reznick found the boy charming with this sexual innocence.

�You can leave, Benton,� Reznick placed his brandy on the bar.

�What?� Benton snapped out of his trance.

�Leave. Come back in six hours. I�ll be finished with him then.�

�But . . . I thought I could stay here. In the foyer.�

�No. There is no need for you to wait. I�ll take good care of your son. Six hours. That was the deal.�

�Dad.� Micah�s voice was strained. His blue eyes pleaded.

�You�ll be okay. Remember what we talked about,� Benton assured his frightened boy.

He stepped toward the door knowing his kid�s eyes were on him. He couldn�t turn around. He opened the door and walked out leaving the kid he loved behind in the lion�s den.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benton was nursing his fourth bourbon at the bar. His head throbbed. He looked at his watch-- midnight. The time was creeping by. The look on Micah�s face played over and over in his mind. He couldn�t shake the image. The disappointment and fear and anger . . .

He should have run. He should have taken his kid and run. They could have gone anywhere. Changed their identities. Laid low. Made themselves invisible to the rest of the world. Reznick would have written them off. What would he have cared? No big loss to him. It was a stupid poker game. Nothing else. Benton gulped the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down. �Give me another.� He yelled at the bartender.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Micah lay silently on his father�s bed, staring at nothing. His eyes no longer a lively blue, but a dull gray.

Benton undressed his son, removing his sneakers first, then his pants, underwear, and shirt. The shower was running. A warm shower. He wanted his son clean. He wanted the dirt and sin that Reznick had marked him with that night washed away. He wanted that whole night washed away from Micah�s memory. From his own memory. He wanted the whole ugly night to be gone.

Benton led Micah to the shower. It was easy. Micah let himself be taken anywhere with no resistance. It was as if he was on automatic pilot. He showed no emotion. Benton watched his son stand under the shower, letting the warm water pour over him. The boy didn�t move. He didn�t make any effort to wash himself. He just stood there no matter how much he was prompted to wash up. Benton couldn�t stand it. He needed his son clean. Desperation set in. He stepped in the shower and grabbed the soap.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

�Everything will be all right, Champ,� Benton said, cradling his son. �You�ll see. We�ll move. We�ll get a nice place. Somewhere. I don�t know where yet. Maybe we�ll just get in the car and drive. Just drive.�

Micah didn�t say a word. He felt arms around him, a warm body, breath, lips against his skin. Nothing was familiar. Nothing.

�You�ll see. We�ll start new. Where no one knows us. A small town. Maybe. A good school. Where no one will bother you. I�ll get a good job. No gambling. No. None of that. You won�t have to worry. We�ll be safe. You�re a good boy, Micah. You�re my good boy. You saved Daddy�s life. You know that, right? You�re a good boy, Micah.� Benton caressed his son�s cheek. �You�re a good boy. I love you, Champ. This won�t happen again. Daddy promises. You won�t ever have to save Daddy again. I promise.�

Benton reached over to the nightstand and poured himself another glass of bourbon, emptying the bottle.

The End