ThreeWednesdays

ShortStory by Mark Laming

Ithrust my handdeeperinto my handbag,myfingerscaressedthemetal tubethatheld acigar,apresentCarloshad givenmeonourfirstmeeting.Ihad joked whatuse would acigarbe to agirllikeme andgotno reply.Hisstoryunfoldedwith aclaimhe’d met Fidel Castroearlierinthe yearwhilstvisiting Cuba: atale Irefused to believe, thoughitmademelaugh.Next, he wouldbe tellingmeCheGuevarahad droppedin fortea too.

Fromtheoutset Ithink Iknewit was wrongacceptinghishelp.However at the timeitappeared to be theloanthatour companywasdesperatetosecure.

One yeardowntheline I’vegot my old friend ‘MrHindsight’thundering away inside my head: ‘You reallyshouldn’t have donethatKristina’.

My firstimpression wasthatCarlos was oneofthegoodguys. Tall,slim,cheery smileanddressedin expensivesuits.A businessmaninthedizzyworldoffinance. Hisadvicewas to sleeponanydealbefore signingup.Buthe wasstillsomeonewho trickedme.

Hesetuptheloanthatatfirstappeared to offerlowinterestrates.However,I obviouslydidn’t studythesmallprint wellenough. Thestinginthetail was thatatthe firstanniversary, whenthe introductory interestchargecame to an end,the rate wasnow about to escalateto an extortionate figureforthe remaining twoyears.Icanhonestlysayhenever mentionedanythingabout aone year initialoffer.

Carlosdrewbreathashe confirmed this wasaperfectlylegalagreement, Ijust hadn’t readthe contract.Itwouldappear therewerenumerous companiesoutthere offeringsimilarskyhighcharges.

It wasthenthatCarlosofferedmean unconventionalalternative, away out. He’d play me at cards over athree week period.We’dmeetupeveryWednesday andhe’d give me achancetoscrapthe higher repaymentfiguresif Iwon. The worstscenario,ifIlost,then my employer wouldbeissuedwithanadministration chargeofonethousandpoundsas well ashaving to paybackthenewhigh interest rates. Thisdidn’t worrymeasIwas confidentIwouldwin. Iwas greatatcards, Irarelylost.

I’dalways thoughtofmyselfas atough oldbird. Ihad kickedthehusbandinto touchsometimeago.Ishouldhavewon thosegamesbutbelieveCarlosmust have been acardshark.Buthey,hadn’t Icheatedinthepast,leftafewpeople unhappy?Livingontheedgehasalways thrilledme.The rent on myLondonpad hasn’t beenpaid forthelastsixmonths and Iowe my ex-boyfriendbigtime. However, Ihaveamassed afairamount ofsavings; my nesteggissecureinatax haven.

EveryWednesdayI lied to the company thatIhad to besomewhereelse,dreaming up anew excuseeachtime.Myextended lunchhour wasspentinadingy room above apub,aptlynamedthe Prince and Thief,whereCarlosand Ibattled overa deckofcards.

Thedeal wasthe bestofthreecard gamesbut Ionlygot to week twoandI wasdone.Carloshad won.

Andnow itseemsthesmall company Iworkforisin forabigshockand Idon’t careoneiota. Thefinancedeal Isetup with Carlos wasabadoneand,withthe extrabillplusthecrazyrates,mybossis notgoing to be pleasedwithme.

Ilosteverygame-myluckystreak plummetedlike astonefallingfromon high. Itook my punishmentsittingdown. Thisman wasbetterthanace; IthoughtI wasgood;he wasonanotherlevel.

Afterthe game Iwashandedaninvoice forthe administration feeasifheknewall along Iwasgoing to lose.I shookhisice coolhandpromising to makepaymentof thenewbillwithin fourteendays.Iwent back to theofficemoreamusedthan annoyed. Theendofthe worldhadn’t arrivedjust yet.

Thirty thousand feetupintheair,I settlebackinto my seatandpressthe callbutton formorechampagne.Irecline intheleatherseat–it’sfirstclassallthe way, moneynoproblem. Reachingdown to my handbag,Ipat thebulgingbrown envelopethatcontainsthe contentsofthe company’ssafe. Alargeamountofcash thatthe bossaskedme to lock away,only I’dremoveditjustbeforeleavingtheoffice forthe lasttime.

Deeperdownamidstthechaosof my bag Igraspthe wafer-thin cylinderthat heldthecigar Carloshad givenmeand wonderwhatCubawillhold forme.

Arathergorgeouslookingairsteward takes my order foratopupofthebubbly stuffandheasksmeifeverythingis alright.

Itellhim Ithinkeverythingisjustfine...