Page 9

Depends on You

Hank always had to shower after a haircut.

The tiny trimmings that escaped down the back of his collar itched, plus the Bay Rum aftershave Hector slapped on his neck made him smell like the end of a medicated cotton swab.

Pulling into his driveway at midday triggered Hank’s memory to his gruesome discovery at Dave’s house.

He turned his head a bit and squinted as he cautiously checked his own garage.

Once he was sure the door was closed, with nothing sticking out, he loosened his grip on the steering wheel.

Pam was probably at work, although he might have heard her mention something about taking the morning off.

Wherever she was, she wasn’t here, so he could go straight in.

Used to be, Hank’s mood would brighten when he turned the corner and saw Pam’s van in the driveway.

She would be inside, waiting for him.

There was always something that had happened during the day he’d rush to tell her about.

But these past few years, he would need to park and brace himself for the cold temperature inside.

Even though there was no air-conditioning in this rental, there always seemed to be a chill.

A few minutes later, Hank stepped out of his shower to find Elmer lying across the bathroom’s threshold.

“Where did you come from, bud? Were you snoozing when I got home?”

Hank absolutely would have said no if he’d been asked about getting Elmer.

But he wasn’t asked.

One day Pam showed up with this mutt and said he’d be here a few weeks, and then he never left.

But Hank had to admit, Elmer was a great dog.

He was always there, quietly taking everything in, like a wise old man.

And when Hank was alone on the sofa, staring at the TV, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into, Elmer would spring up from the floor, land beside him, and rest his head on Hank’s thigh, rolling over so Hank would rub his belly.

And they’d stay like that for a while: two buddies sitting on the sofa.

Now, in the doorway of the bathroom, Elmer rolled over on his back and Hank fulfilled the familiar request and scratched.

Then he wiped the steam from the mirror with his towel and took a good look at himself.

How the fuck had he ever gotten here?

Hank was used to firing people.

When you’re high up at one of the area’s biggest employers, people tend to ask for favors.

ty percent of the time things worked out.

Well, maybe seventy.

Perhaps sixty.

Regardless, everyone understands it’s not personal, it’s business.

He’d had to fire a buddy’s son who got caught jerking off in the customer washrooms and had to give final warning to a young father for working under the influence.

He’d felt responsible because he’d overseen their hiring. It was Hank’s job. From managers to janitors.

So it had been easy for Hank to hire Dave Brand.

They’d been tight for about fifteen years when Dave got laid off from his IT job.

One day, when they were out fishing, Dave had told Hank about an employment training program he could take, but if he finished it, he’d be hitting Hank up for work.

“Go for it,”

Hank had said.

Hank had expected Dave would be great as a video slot machine tech.

A bit of a geek, he was smart, resourceful, and reliable.

Hank’s only caution to Dave had been to not let on how well they knew each other.

“Not great for the others to know we hang out so much.

They’ll look for preferential treatment and see it, even if it’s not there.”

But there’d been no problems.

There were three thousand other employees, and Dave’s work was mostly on the casino floor and in the basement maintenance area while Hank was usually upstairs on the second and third floors.

When their paths crossed, they were cordial, but not familiar.

They’d never been much for going out in public together.

Since their friendship had stemmed from their kids, they had gotten to know each other at backyard barbecues and kitchen potlucks, and that’s where their socializing had remained.

As the kids grew up and moved on, the wives had kept the gatherings going, even after they had lost their money in the investment deal Hank had suggested.

It could have worked.

But bad timing and bad markets had made for another story.

It had been a financial debacle for them all.

Dave, Larry, and Andre included.

Hank could have drowned in the guilt.

So many times he’d kicked himself for getting the guys involved, but he was generous by nature and had felt it was such a sure thing, he had wanted to share.

Another guy in the neighborhood had come out all right on the other side of his investment—that awful Sabrina Cuomo’s husband.

Surely if good things could happen to that dolt, they could happen to Hank.

But being set for retirement wouldn’t be fun without the company of his best pals.

So he had eagerly brought them in on the deal.

But the investment had gone south. Way south. Like to Antarctica, where it died surrounded by penguins and whales—metaphorically speaking.

And now, that financial ruin was only bearable because of those best pals.

As the guys fell into their new reality, they found comfort in each other that they couldn’t find at home. There, Hank knew, they each cowered under the shame. Even when their wives weren’t vocal, their silence messaged their disappointment loud and clear. And through it all, Dave had shown up for work every day, as Hank had expected.

But Hank hadn’t expected Dave to come up with their new retirement plan.

* * *

Just over four years ago, Hank had returned from enjoying his morning coffee with Andre at his shop and was sitting at his desk when Dave had knocked, his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Got a minute?”

Hank had waved him in, and Dave shut the door behind him. Hank put his pen down and leaned back in his chair, his brows drawn together. Dave never came by his office. Hank gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. Dave looked around, took in the photos of Pam and their daughter, sat down, and pointed to the bank of surveillance monitors. “Are conversations recorded in here?”

Hank shook his head.

“No cameras?”

Hank shook his head again.

Dave thought a moment, nodded, and then scooted his chair close and crossed his arms on Hank’s desk and began, his voice low, “You know those new video slot machines we got in? I found a glitch.”

“Wha-at? That’s impossible.”

Dave raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? A glitch?”

Hank asked.

“You monitor the cash flow in this place, right?”

“Every day. It’s part of my job.”

“Have you noticed anything irregular the last couple weeks or so?”

Hank thought for a moment. “No.”

Dave reached for his backpack. “No cameras, right?”

He checked the room’s corners.

Hank said, again, “No.”

Dave unzipped his backpack and positioned it so Hank could peek inside. Hank’s head snapped back. “What the fuck?”

Hank stood and stretched across his desk to get a better look. He studied the cash bundles, bound with bands. Not the paper straps the casino used, but the elastic type that holds bunches of broccoli together. Hank looked at his friend and said in a low voice, “What the fuck have you done?”

“Depends,”

Dave said.

“What do you mean, depends?”

“Depends on you.”

Hank started to reach for the desk phone.

Dave lightly touched his wrist. “Well, here’s the thing, Hank. What have I done? I’ve either saved the casino from ever being swindled out of millions of dollars by anyone else who figures out this little programming glitch, or”— Dave paused and looked straight into Hank’s eyes—“I’ve fixed our retirement plan.”

Dave waggled his eyebrows.

They withdrew their hands from the phone. Dave sat back and smiled.

Hank’s head spun. He thought he might vomit in his wastebasket. He hadn’t felt like this since he’d watched Pam give birth. His skin had suddenly become uncomfortably cold. He sat down with a thud. Firing that kid for jerking off in the men’s room was one thing, but this was different. If Dave went to jail, Pam would make him mow Marlene’s lawn and shovel her driveway. Fuck. He looked up.

Dave had zipped up his backpack. “You okay?”

Hank nodded.

“I know. It’s a lot. I couldn’t believe it the first time it worked. But I’ve done it five times now. And you’re saying no red flags have gone up.”

“Five times! Fuck! Dave!”

Hank yelled. He lowered his voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dave folded his hands across his flat belly. “You’re one of the smartest guys I know, Hank. You’re fucking fantastic at your job. Everyone knows that. I lied. I’ve actually been doing this for a month. I’ve done it ten times.”

Dave smiled and, in that moment, Hank understood why women did double takes when they passed him.

Hank raised his hand. “Don’t tell me any more. I have to call security. I have to call the police.”

“You can call the police if you want, Hank. We’ll all be okay. I’ll tell them I found a loophole in our security. That I’ve been testing it out, and I’ve turned in the money to you as proof.”

Dave patted his backpack. “This is it. All the money. But do you have to make that call, Hank? Do you? You didn’t notice these payouts. And if you didn’t notice, no one will.”

Hank felt the thump of his heart against his ribs. Sweat prickled his forehead and started to drip down his back. He reached for his bottle of water, but it was empty. He licked his lips. “How much is there?”

He squinted at the backpack as though it might explode.

“Thirty-seven thousand dollars.”

“What!”

“I could have got more, but if you cash in over five grand at a time you have to show ID.”

“You’ve been cashing in vouchers? In my casino?”

“No.”

Dave waved dismissively.

“I’ve been getting other people to do it.

Marlene’s family was visiting, so I used her brothers a couple times.

Told them my coworker won, explained employees aren’t allowed to play at the casino, told them they had to keep it quiet.

Not even tell Marlene.

Marlene’s brothers were finally good for something. And then they went home.” Dave smiled. He looked proud of his ingenuity. “We have a plan, and we know it will work.”

“We?”

Dave sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and winked. “We.”