Bouncing (35 page)

Nothing but Trouble

Alex was surprised by how well she slept after all that had happened, but she awakened feeling refreshed. That was good, because she had a million things to deal with. She wished she’d never have to see Greg again, and even though it’d be impossible to avoid him totally, she’d minimize contact until the desire to punch him faded. She had to deal with Kelsey, and she wasn’t sure what to do. There was no official school policy on buying exams and shaving points, so Alex could really manage the situation as she saw fit. She hoped to use that flexibility to her advantage.

And Brit seemed to be doing better. Alex kissed her good morning, then good-bye, and headed home for her shower. She dressed and was walking into her kitchen for a yogurt when the sight of her brother sitting on her couch startled her.

Alex stopped, her heart pounding in her throat. This couldn’t be good. “What’s wrong?”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to Greg?”

Andrew didn’t raise his voice; they might as well have been talking about the weather. She did, though.

“How can you defend him? Do you know he’s trying to fix my games? Pushing gambling in school? And selling tests to kids?”

“Grow up, Alex. He’s not pushing anything. He’s giving them what they want. And if he doesn’t, someone else will.”

“Andrew, this is wrong, and it’s illegal, and he should stop.”

He stood and turned toward the door. “I’m warning you, Alex. Mind your own business.”

Alex didn’t get it. Why the hell would her brother care about Greg’s illegal activities? It wasn’t like they were close friends. Sure, they knew each other—all the kids who’d grown up at the club did. And then a sick feeling overcame her. Just as he reached for the doorknob she spoke. “What the hell are you doing? You have a good job with Dad. Why get messed up in something like this?”

He turned his head. “You think I have a good job? Huh, that’s a joke. Try living on the sixty grand a year Dad pays me!”

“Hey, that’s more than I make and I’m doing fine.”

“You live above a garage. For free! I have a wife, and a house, and—unlike you—one day I’ll have a family to support. The dry-cleaning business isn’t going to do it. And as far as Dad’s dream about the liquor licenses—it’s pie in the sky. Lots of guys with money contribute to political campaigns. There’s no guarantee we’ll get a license. I need to take care of me!”

“Then get a job. Start a business, like Grampa did. Don’t become a hoodlum!”

“I never thought you were such a prude,” he said as he walked through the door.

Her day didn’t get any better. Most of the students seemed to linger in snow-day mode, with minds unfocused on class. Every player on the team made her way to Alex’s classroom to talk strategy for that night’s game, increasing Alex’s anxiety about benching her star. Fortunately, the opposition wasn’t one of the better teams in the league, and Alex hoped she could pull off a win even if she decided to bench Kelsey.

Before she left for the day, a text caught her attention. It was from Wes. He needed to talk.

What now? Alex agreed to meet him at the coffee shop.

The coffee and pastry she purchased held no appeal, but for the sake of appearances, Alex took a sip as she slipped into a corner booth. “What’s up?” she asked.

Wes shook his head, and Alex saw fire in his eyes. “We have to stop this guy, Coach.”

“Who?”

“Greg Merck.”

“What? He agreed to back off.”

“Maybe he backed off on your player, but he’s putting the heat on my brother. I thought P. was done with the exams. That’s what he told me, anyway. He only got into selling them because he owed Merck money from gambling. When he paid his debt, he was supposed to be free. Then Merck changed the plan, and what could P.J. do? He had to go along. But that’s not bad enough. He graduates in May, and he thought he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Your friend Merck just snuffed it out.”

“How so?”

“P.J.’s been planning to go to Penn State. It’s always been his dream, and he got accepted into the engineering program at the main campus in State College. But today Greg ‘suggested’ P. go to Pocono Mountains University so he can work for him. Greg wants to expand his gambling and exam racket to the local colleges and wants him to run the operation.”

“Fuck.” Alex thought she’d convinced Greg to lay off the students—and maybe he had. Maybe he’d shift his business to the colleges instead. Either way it wasn’t good for P.J.

“You have to help me. Help P.J. Help these kids. They’re stealing to get money for gambling. They’re getting hooked. They’re jeopardizing their futures.”

Alex studied him. He looked so much older than she remembered him, but she supposed he’d aged in the past months. Hell, she felt like she’d aged overnight. Knowing Wes spoke the truth, Alex bit her lip and sucked in a breath. Before confronting Greg she’d Googled teenage gambling and was dumbfounded when she learned about the enormity of the problem. Not only were kids getting into trouble, but they were much more likely to become addicted gamblers if they started young. Trouble with gambling would cause them to lose their homes and their jobs and sometimes their lives. Her childhood friend was helping them get started.

Greg had always been a decent guy. Sure, he’d been collecting bets for his dad since he was big enough to walk, but it’d always been an innocent sort of illegal activity. Nobody pressured anyone to bet or had trouble collecting—everyone put their money up front. A five-dollar bet on college football games could win you fifty if all your teams came out on top. Gambling made the games more interesting, and winning was fun. Why did he have to push this into the schools and get kids involved? And selling the exams was completely wrong. While Alex could bend her ethics to defend the gambling—at least where adults were concerned—no amount of magic or smoke and mirrors could change her view on selling exams. Or trying to fix her games.

“Wes, you should go to the police. It’s the only way to get your brother out from under him.” Even as she said the words, Alex was doubtful they’d shut down Greg’s gambling operation. For some reason, authorities seemed to look the other way when it came to sports betting. But maybe a police report would take some of the heat off P.J. and get him out from under Greg’s thumb.

Wes laughed, a bitter sound, and patrons at the nearby tables turned heads in their direction. “Yeah, right! Do you know how many cops bet with Greg? How do you think he stays in business? He gives them Yankees tickets and dinners at Ruth’s Chris, and they look the other way. About five minutes after P.J. reports Greg and walks out of the police station, he’ll be so black and blue my mother won’t recognize him.”

“I don’t know, Wes,” Alex said. “I don’t think I should get any more involved than I already am.”

Wes studied his coffee for a moment before looking up at Alex. “He’s blackmailing me, too. He wants me to sell exams.”

“Just tell him no.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Who do you think hacked into the EM email account to get those exams?”

Alex looked at him and wanted to scream. This situation just kept getting worse and worse. Before she could, he spoke again.

“It was the only way I could protect P.J. Greg would have broken both his legs.”

Alex sipped her coffee and thought about what Wes was saying. She remembered how angry Greg had been when she confronted him and didn’t doubt he’d developed a temper, and quite possibly could be dangerous. She’d been scared when she confronted him. Then she thought back to her mother’s birthday party the summer before. The Mercks had been there, socializing with all of the power people, schmoozing, no doubt doing just what her father was doing—taking care of business. How many political campaigns did the illegal profits of his gambling business fund?

And then she thought of her own brother, and she set down the coffee. It was quickly turning to acid in her stomach.

Just what did Andrew have to do with this business? If Wes called the police, and they actually listened to him, would her brother be implicated? He’d defended Greg, but was Andrew involved in the business or just standing up for his friend?

Her thoughts turned to Kelsey, and P.J., both good kids reduced to cheating and lying for Greg. She looked at Wes, dealing with a problem he should have known nothing about. How many others were there, stealing to get money for gambling? Cheating on exams, instead of learning to study and work toward their goals. Dozens, probably, or more. So many young kids jeopardizing their futures. She couldn’t allow her concerns about Andrew to interfere with her decision to do the right thing. Greg was hurting people she cared about. Her students. Her players. Her neighbors. She needed to stop him.

Alex sighed and looked at Wes. “Maybe you’re right. What do you have in mind?”

Alex leaned back in her seat and listened as he told her.

Dirty Laundry

Brit sat down across from Alex at the kitchen table and studied her for a moment. It was only nine o’clock on Sunday morning, but already she’d read the paper, been to mass and the grocery store, and was now preparing breakfast. She’d thought of sleeping in, but she was restless, and rather than disturb Alex, she’d gotten an early start on the day.

Alex was tired, and Brit wondered what was at the root of it. It was the middle of March and they had just a few weeks of basketball left, give or take, depending on how well they did. Considering that the team was still undefeated, making a run deep into the playoffs was likely. Brit prayed for strength. She wanted to win, and she wanted to be a part of such excitement, but it really was stressful, and she wouldn’t be sad when the season ended.

The recruits were still beating down Alex’s door, even though Kelsey had suffered an ankle injury and was out indefinitely. They’d seen her talent and were convinced she had the ability to play at the highest levels of basketball. Alex had now been offered three jobs—one in Florida, one in St. Louis, and one in California—if Kelz would commit to the schools. Alex downplayed the significance of the offers, but Brit was worried. What if Alex left? Was that on her mind?

Or was it her health? Alex didn’t complain, but Brit knew from the way she moved and constantly stretched her back that the cold, damp winter was taking its toll on Alex’s health.

Brit tried to help ease Alex’s burden by doing as much as she could with the team, running practices and scouting opponents. She gave Alex a break at home by cooking and keeping the apartment neat. And she’d talked to her friend, the young rheumatologist, who was interested in Alex’s case. Even though Alex might feel better when the season ended, Brit didn’t want to postpone this discussion any longer.

“Alex, I want you to see another doctor. A rheumatologist—well, almost a rheumatologist—he’s finishing his fellowship in a few months. I’ve known him all my life, and I talked to him about you, and we think you might be misdiagnosed.”

Alex flicked at her teeth with her tongue, attempting to remove something that appeared to be stuck there. “Excuse me?”

Brit sighed. “I’ve been reading all about your disease, Alex, and I’m not sure you really have it. My friend agrees with me, so I’d like you to go see him.”

“I already see a specialist, Brit.”

“I know, I know. But just read this.” Brit pulled some papers from the cupboard. “Your symptoms could be Reiter’s syndrome. It’s the same gene.”

Alex looked from Brit’s face to the papers in her hand and tried to focus on the words. Her stress level was through the roof and she was exhausted. All of the lying was getting to her, as were the increasing pressures of coaching her team to an undefeated season and dealing with the madness of college recruiters hounding her. If only she could tell Brit the truth, it would ease some of the burden. But Alex still didn’t know what sort of trouble lay ahead and didn’t want to put Brit in danger. Better to keep her in the dark. And then, of course, Brit might possibly tear her head off for getting involved in this mess.

The last thing she wanted to talk about was her illness. It was one of the few things in her life under control at the moment. She hardly had any symptoms. These days, she was fine, but getting there hadn’t been an easy road. She couldn’t count the number of specialists she’d seen over the years, trying to figure out what the hell was going wrong. She didn’t want to see another one and told Brit so.

“Alex, would you at least read what it says? If you don’t agree with me, then, okay, we won’t see him. But if you have any doubt, don’t you owe it to yourself to find out the truth?”

Alex studied Brit. Her face was slightly flushed as she leaned forward, talking with her hands as she stressed her point. Her eyes were dark, and they glimmered with their intensity. She was beautiful, and Alex was lucky Brit had fallen in love with her, for many reasons, but mostly because she was the kind of woman who’d spend her time researching a disease to make sure the doctors had gotten it right.

To be deceiving her hit Alex hard and sucked the wind from her lungs. Brit had given up so much to be with Alex. She missed her family terribly and was spending all of the energy she’d once used on them to take care of Alex. Alex was repaying that loyalty with deception and lies.

Suddenly wanting to do something for Brit, something to make her smile, Alex said, “Okay. I’ll see him. If it’ll make you happy.”

Brit hugged her. “I’m going to get the laundry together,” Brit said as Alex began gathering the breakfast dishes.

Brit was thrilled that Alex had agreed so readily. Maybe her friend could help. Probably couldn’t hurt, right?

Brit grabbed the towels from the back of the bathroom door, and then the laundry basket from her closet, and began emptying the contents into a large duffel. They were heading to Alex’s parents’ for dinner, and she’d wash a load of laundry while she was there. Just as she was about to zip the bag closed, she noticed Alex’s gym bag on the floor beside the bed. Even though Alex didn’t usually change clothes for practice, sometimes she had dirty clothes in there. Brit decided to check. Opening the zipper, she spilled the contents on the bed—two sneakers, two socks, a neatly folded sweatshirt, sweat pants, and an envelope.