The Odds - Jeff Strand Page 0,31
pretending to read one.
“What happened to your arm?” she asked, quickly standing up.
The kids put the game on pause, a testament to how serious this seemed to be.
“It’s no big deal,” said Ethan. “I got cut at work.”
“Did you put anything on it?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. They took good care of me.”
“Dad, you look kind of sick,” said Patrick.
Ethan nodded. “I’m pretty tired.”
“No, I mean sick. Like you’re going to throw up.”
“I’m not going to throw up, I promise. My job’s a lot more stressful than it used to be, that’s all.”
“You should quit,” said Tim.
“Then who would pay for your video games?”
“We’d just play the old ones.”
“That’s actually genuinely sweet,” said Ethan. “But no, don’t worry about me. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”
“Don’t you want dinner?” Jenny asked.
“Nah, I’m not hungry.” If he tried to choke down some food, he probably would throw up.
“Okay.”
Jenny looked really upset. And she was right to look that way. But did she look so upset that somebody watching might think she knew what was going on? Rick was already suspicious.
It would be okay. He’d been called out of the house with no notice and came home with a slashed arm. His wife would unquestionably look concerned in that scenario. It would be more suspicious if she had a cavalier attitude about it. He was just getting paranoid.
He took a long, scalding hot shower, scrubbing himself so thoroughly that it was painful. None of the executed man’s blood had gotten on him, but Ethan scrubbed away as if he’d been drenched in it. The cut on his arm stung like hell under the hot water. At least it was only trickling blood instead of gushing it.
Jenny walked into the bathroom as he stepped out of the shower. She took a towel off the rack and handed to him.
“Actually, maybe one of the older ones from the back of the closet,” Ethan said. “I don’t want to get blood on the good ones.”
Jenny retrieved one of their lesser towels. As he dried off, she got out the antiseptic and a box of bandages.
“So,” she said. “How was work?”
“It sucked.”
“Any idea when the overtime will stop?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“It kind of is my fault.”
“I need to know that we’re all going to be okay when this is over,” she said.
“We’re going to be fine,” said Ethan, and his eyes darted away from her for a split second, and he cursed himself for not being able to stop it from happening, because not being able to sustain eye contact was the classic “I’m lying my ass off!” signal. He might as well have covered his mouth.
Maybe she hadn’t noticed.
She had totally noticed.
“Seriously, we’re going to be fine,” he said, stumbling over the words. He desperately needed to convey the message of “We have to keep up this ruse, because less than an hour ago I watched a guy get shot to death for violating the rule,” but he had no idea how to do it without breaking the rule.
Jenny said nothing. She absolutely did not believe that they were going to be fine.
And if she didn’t believe that, what would stop her from fleeing with their children?
What would stop her from calling the police?
“I promise you it’s all good,” he said. “I’ll keep working, and I’ll get our head above water and then I’ll quit. At least I know that I’ll never gamble again. I’ll probably have to go into therapy if I ever see a slot machine. So, yes, right now my unpredictable schedule sucks, but you have nothing to worry about. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of the kids. Our family is fine.”
“If you say so,” said Jenny. “Let’s get your arm bandaged up.”
She applied the antiseptic with a cotton ball and as he winced in pain Ethan searched her face for signs as to what she might be thinking. There was no way for her not to be scared, but he needed her not to be so scared that she decided it was worth it to break the rules. But he couldn’t convey that without breaking the rules.
He tried to think of a way to share that message in coded language, making it clear what he meant without tipping off any eavesdroppers, but he immediately rejected every phrasing as too transparent. His mind wasn’t working in top-notch condition at the moment.
It was too risky.
He’d have to