Out of Aces (4 page)

“No worries. Be careful, huh? There’s a lot of creeps out th
ere.”

“What’s your name?” she a
sked.

“G
abe.”

“Here.” She dug in a glittery silver purse and pushed a card across the bar. “My name’s Analisa. Call me. I mean, if you want.” Her cheeks had gone pink. She stood up and grabbed her Coke and pushed off through the c
rowd.

A guy I’d been serving for the last hour whistled. “I’ll take that for you.” He reached for the
card.

I grabbed it. “Nice try, f
ool.”

He grinned. “Wish I had your
job.”

I stuck the card in my pocket and went on pouring dr
inks.

I had a fifteen-minute break, and instead of using it to chill and eat in the break room, I was standing in a bathroom stall, staring at a picture of Irina on my phone. She had texted me the picture earlier that day. She was making a kiss face, goldfish lips, eyes half-closed.
MISS YOU SO MUCH.
I stared at her brown eyes and felt around in my pocket for the card so I could flush it down the toilet before I fucked up the one relationship I actually cared about. I didn’t have the best track record with being loyal. Actually, I’d never pulled it off before. But I’d never been in love before, ei
ther.

The door to the bathroom opened and a bunch of stags stumbled
in.

“Aw man, get outta my
way.”

“Where’s the . . . where’s the .
 . .”

“I have it.” Screech. Screech. Screech
.
Water running, then turned
off.

I remembered Nick’s speech about being “blind.” Maybe I should sit tight for a mi
nute.

“Eenie meenie miney
moe—”

“Shut up, fool! Give me t
hat.”

Then there was mostly silence. A few big breaths. A loud clink. Somebody giggled. Then the water turned on, and I figured it was safe to leave. I pushed open the stall door and strolled out, looking at the ceiling. Three clubbers were leaning against the bathroom wall, pupils exploding. One of them, a skinny dude with a blond goatee, was chuckling to him
self.

I washed my hands and dug Analisa’s card out of my pocket. I forced myself to drop it in the trash, even though it felt like throwing away a hundred-dollar
bill.

I took two steps toward the door and then—I turned around and reached in the trash to grab it out a
gain.

The goatee guy saved me. “Aw, sick, man! He’s going through the garbage!” He started cracking
up.

I pulled my hand back and bolted without the card. Good. That was what I wanted to do, an
yway.

Albertsons was surprisingly packed at five in the morning. I was seeing things blurry, my wrists were aching like I’d been lifting weights all night, and I smelled like nightclub. But I was totally charged as I pushed my cart through the store. I kept throwing in stuff that I didn’t even know how to cook: sausages, eggs, beef patties. I’d already been to Denny’s and had the Grand Slam, but I was still hungry. I got three boxes of cereal, the best sugar kinds. A bunch of protein bars. Shampoo, razors, little stuff that adds up. But it was fine, because there was a fat roll in my pocket. I had cleared three-sixty my first night, and that was
after
tipping out the waitre
sses.

I unwrapped a Snickers and started eating it right there in the checkout line. The checker was a cutie, big chocolate eyes and long braids. She smiled at me. “You look like you’re enjoying t
hat.”

I nodded and smiled through a bite of Snickers. I had this weird, relieved feeling. I suddenly wanted to shout or something. But I just took another bite of candy and paid the girl. Being a man means handling your bills. There are other parts, too, but I was getting the first, most important piece
down.

CHAPTER FOUR

B
aby, you’re going to do great. You
are.”

“I hate it when people say that. How do you know? Seriously, what makes you so sure?” Irina was quiet for a second, and I felt bad. “Sorry, that was ha
rsh.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re stres
sed.”

I rolled over on my bed. I
was
stressed. In a few minutes I was supposed to go to the Institute of Technology and take the
GED.

“I took it before we decided to go with homeschooling, and it was basic, I swear,” Irina
said.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking,
for you
. Irina was a genius, a music prodigy. Well, she didn’t like it when I called her that. But her parents had trained her like a
seal.

“I love you,” she said softly. And that made me feel be
tter.

“I love you,
too.”

We were quiet, just hanging out on the phone. That’s how you know somebody’s the real thing; you don’t always have to fill the air with words. Finally I said, “You know how I am with tests.” I wanted her to understand. I’d tried to explain be
fore.

“I know, but this is easy,” she said. “It’s not like finals at Claremont.” She was trying to help, but calling it “easy” made me feel like if I didn’t pass, I’d be even dumber than I tho
ught.

“Yeah. Okay, I’m going to do this thing. I don’t want to be late.” I got up and grabbed my keys off the cardboard table, which was a little soggy where I’d spilled w
ater.

“Call me the second you’re done,” she
said.

For having such a legit name, the Las Vegas Professional Institute of Technology looked like a run-down strip mall. It was brown, one story, with weedy bushes around the front. “Where your SUCCESS is our FIRST priority”
it said on the glass door. I stopped on the sidewalk a second, drank the rest of my soda, and tossed it in the trash. I took a breath and walked
in.

Inside, the Institute was like a cheap dentist’s office: ugly blue carpet, water cooler, dirty plastic chairs, fish tank with one straggly goldfish swimming around. The secretary was jolly-looking, with round glasses and puffy red hair. “Hi, sweetie. Here for the
GED?”

I no
dded.

“You’re registered, ri
ght?”

“Yeah.” I showed her my driver’s license, the real
one.

“You’re all set. Through the door over there, honey. They’re starting right at three. Good l
uck.”

I walked through the door. The room was the size of a regular classroom, quiet and very cold. There were computers against the walls, each with a divider and an orange plastic chair. A handful of people, mostly older guys, were already sitting
down.

I licked my lips. My pulse was acting up. I sat down in one of the orange chairs. The computer screen in front of me was
dark.

An old lady in a suit—she looked like my friend Kyle’s grandma—stood up. She was holding a clipboard in one hand and a book in the other. “Hi, everyone. My name is Michelle and I’ll be your proctor. We’re here to take the science portion of the GED. The test is eighty minutes long and consists of fifty questions. There’s a timer on the bottom right hand of your screen. Now, I’d like to take you through a brief tutorial . . .” Our computer screens lit
up.

I watched Michelle’s mouth moving and tried to breathe through my nose. I’d heard that would calm you down. “Is there anyone here who’s not comfortable using a mouse?” she asked. One guy raised his hand. So then we had to sit through five minutes of “how to use a mo
use.”

Michelle kept talking us through the most basic stuff in the universe. Then she did a sample question about the sun. But there was a roaring in my ears, and I couldn’t really hear her. I kept my hand on the mouse, ready to
go.

“You may be
gin.”

I leaned for
ward.

Directions: Choose the one best answer to each question. Click on the answer with your m
ouse.

Question 1: Clay soil forms a fairly effective barrier against the movements of water. It also swells and shrinks significantly as its water content changes. Sandy soil, in contrast, allows water to move freely and does not change shape as the water content varies. In which statement is the appropriate soil selected for its intended
site?

Sandy soil would make a good lining for a toxic waste
site.

Clay soil would work well in a drain f
ield.

Clay soil would be a good foundation for a large buil
ding.

Clay soil would form a good liner if a person built a
pond.

A sandy lake bottom would prevent water from seeping out of the
lake.

I tried to focus. But the words were playing tricks already, sliding off the screen. It took me three times as long to read the question as it should have. Even then, I wasn’t sure I read it right. So I did what I always do. I looked at the clock, panicked, and picked an an
swer.

I felt like puking. That always happened with tests, too. I blinked and tried to concentrate. The guy next to me was hunched over, muttering. Somebody was tapping his foot. Sweat pricked the back of my neck. The computer keys were too big, nothing like my computer. You had to drag the mouse hard to make it work. Analisa jumped into my head. Her tan belly, soft and curvy. The way she blushed when she said I should call
her.

Whoa.
I switched the mental picture to Irina. And that made me remember I had to pass this damn thing. Even though apparently I already had the best job in the world. I looked at the clock. Seventy minutes
left.

“Time.” Michelle’s voice cut through the blur in my
head.

I looked up, and she was standing at the front of the room, hugging her clipboard, smiling like she was giving us a prize. But I wasn’t done. I looked back at my computer screen, and the question I was working on had disappeared. The screen was blank except for a t
imer.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked. “Don’t worry if you didn’t finish. It doesn’t mean you didn’t pass. Just hang on a minute, and you’ll have your scores. Then I’m sure you’ll want to stretch your legs. If you signed up for the math portion, we’ll begin in twenty minu
tes.”

People started to move, stand up, and stretch. I stayed put and stared at the computer, feeling like I’d just stepped off the Tilt-A-Whirl. Finally the timer disappeared and a box popped
up.

I looked away quickly, not daring to read it. I’m not really superstitious, but I wished I had something lucky. A rabbit’s foot. A special k
nock.

I took a breath and looked back at the sc
reen.

Your score is 390. A minimum passing score is 410. You can retest in one content area a total of three times a year. We’ll save your scores on the subjects you did pass and combine them with the scores you receive when you test again. Please schedule an appointment to retake this portion of the
GED.

I swallowed and stood up. My eyes were stinging. I walked fast out the door, almost running into Michelle, and charged through the waiting
room.

“Don’t be gone too long,” the red-haired secretary called as I pushed through the door to the parking lot. “Your next test starts in fifteen minu
tes.”

Fuck my next test.
I got in my car, peeled out, and flew down Decatur. I almost wanted to get pulled over and get into it with a cop. I couldn’t believe this was real. But then again, I could. I
knew
it would ha
ppen.

Berto and his homies were smoking in the corner of the parking lot, under the one tree in the whole complex. Their cigarettes looked small and homemade. Weed? I sure hoped so. I felt so terrible about failing, I would have done anything to hit the kill switch in my head. I walked over, stopped a car length away, and raised my hand. I didn’t want to spook
them.

Berto lifted his chin at me. “S’up?” Three other guys were with him, all in chinos and flan
nels.

“Can I have a puff?” I a
sked.

He shrugged. “You can roll one, if you want.” His homie handed over a paper and a little pouch of tobacco. Oh well. I did my best to roll a cigarette, but it looked like a burrito falling apart. Berto’s friend laughed, took back the pouch, and rolled me one. I went ahead and smoked it, and my nerves were so jacked, I didn’t even mind the t
aste.

“What’s wrong with you, man? You look messed up,” said B
erto.

“Yeah. I just failed some test.” It felt good to tell the truth. Because I knew I’d be lying in an hour when I talked to Irina and my
mom.

“Tests are bullshit,” said the bald guy with an eagle on his
neck.

“Yeah.” Berto blew out smoke. “Relax. It ain’t the end of the world. Unless it’s an AIDS test . . . then you’re fuc
ked.”

They laughed. I laughed, too. Flunking an AIDS test, now that
would
suck. “Yeah, you’re ri
ght.”

“What’s your name, son?” said the eagle
tat.

“G
abe.”

“I’m Smi
ley.”

“Pelon,” said a little one with a red band
anna.

“Oso,” said the one missing a tooth in front. He had thick lips and narrow, friendly
eyes.

Berto eyed me. “Hey, you get that
job?”

“Yeah, I’m bartending at Hush
now.”

“For re
als?”

“You should come see me, I’ll hook you up good.” I leaned against the cinder-block wall and looked up at the tree. It was a scrawny Vegas tree with puny little branches. The winter sky above was bright blue. The guys started talking Spanish, and I let it roll around me. Nice, soft so
unds.

Smiley flicked away his cigarette and pulled out his phone, checking a text. “Lalia wants us to come get her,” he
said.

I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. “All right. Peace.” I raised a hand and started
off.

“Peace,” Berto called after me. It was nice to have some friends in my complex. Or at least to know some friendly pe
ople.