The Ringer

“Congratulations, you’re in luck!” Fredrick suddenly appears behind me with a slap to my back. The new batch of flour I just made coughs from the bag and sprays me with its powder.

Luck. As if that were a real thing. I’ve learned to leave Fredrick to his wild attempts of a better life, always in and out of jobs while trying to drag me along with him. Truth be told, my ‘so-called’ luck couldn’t be worse. Granting him this moment of appeasement, I carefully set down the bag and follow along.

“I really should be working,” I say while tiredly brushing the mix from my apron. “I can’t afford to take breaks.”

At the age of seventeen, I’ve been providing my mother with a house by overworking myself at the mill. Still, it’s not enough. It takes wood to build heat and chickens to lay eggs; I surely wasn’t built to wield an axe nor granted the luxury of land to farm. Instead, I was born to work for less than the average pay and try to make do. 

“You will be able to afford everything your little heart desires after I tell you this. I’ve landed a new job where I get to show people a good time outside of their daily, miserable lives. And you, my friend, certainly qualify,” Fredrick says mischievously.

My eyelids lower. “Gee, thanks. What’s your new job now?”

“I’m glad you asked! I am known as ‘the ringer.’ There’s a small place where the rich, and I mean rich, like to go, and spend their money on liquor and high-stake games. It’s completely under the radar and anyone can join as long as you’re invited by someone like me.” He flashes his pearly whites to end his perfect sales pitch. 

I halfheartedly chuckle at his cockiness. “Where is this place?” 

“That is for me to know and for you to find out. I will tell you it’s called a ‘speakeasy.’ You dress to impress, so wear your Sunday best. I’ll even pay for your first game and then you take it from there. It’ll be good for you to feed off the rich for once.” He winks. “So, what do you say?”

I’d like to think he’s having a laugh at me, but Fredrick has always landed the oddest of jobs somehow. Though he hasn’t been able to hold one down for very long, his personality is suited to charm the skirt off the queen. 

“I don’t know,” I grumble.

“Okay, if you won’t do it for yourself, then please do it for me. I’ve done really well by bringing one guest each night, but I’m running out of options tonight and my boss will kill me if I show up empty handed.”

I suppress a laugh. I do suppose he’s right; I could use a break. Plus, he’s been my best friend since primary school, it’s only fair I help him out during his desperate times. Seeing my defeat, Fredrick grins wider and pulls me to his side. “That’s the spirit! Meet me at Willow’s Park by nightfall.”

I roll my eyes and get back to work. The time couldn’t have gone any slower as my thoughts swirled with Fredrick’s words: you owe it to yourself. I haven’t felt I owed myself anything since my father passed away during the war. Nevertheless, I’ve kept my word and arrive promptly. 

Fredrick sits on the first metal bench with his shining shoes, tailored vest, and trilby hat. I wish I owned something as nice, but the cards were never in my favor. I stroll up to him and tip my ivy cap. His excitement beams greater than the sun at the sight of me.

“Shall we?” He asks and motions to the right. 

The brick road twists and turns as we pass the usual shops closed for the night. A few couples stroll in the moonlight, giggling amongst the stars. It isn’t until we reach the train station, one only those gifted with opulence use, that the scenery becomes unknown. 

“Where are we going?” I ask. 

“Shh, it’s just up ahead.” He says as we take the next turn down a dark alley between the hospital and the recovery center. 

A simple green door awaits at the bottom of hidden stairs. His knuckle taps the door twice, then once, and then finally three times. A small window abruptly slides across the center, enough to reveal a set of dark eyes cutting at us.

“Password?” A deep voice asks.

“The coin decides our fate,” Fredrick says calmly.

The small window slides closed, and the door swings open without a hitch. A hefty man wearing similar fancy garments as my friend, nods for us to enter. 

A set of thick, black curtains hang in layers as we brush through them and proceed to descend the stairs. Velvet laced pattern delicately adds to the deep red walls as the hanging candlelight casts both ominosity and grace. The smoky and sweet aroma of tobacco tickles my nose. Murmurs of laughter and a hint of soft music gradually lightens the rock in my gut as we enter the next room.

The soft-kissed glow from the multiple crystal chandeliers presents the space with a warm ambiance. The different classes of society mingle as if we’ve always been equals. The duke bellows in the corner in a tight, white suit and a cigar dangling between his meaty fingers. His other hand cups a twig of a woman who is not his wife. 

A duchess from another estate bellows as she swings her hand in the air and shouts, “And that’s how a lady wins!” The group of men around her clap and nod with impressed smirks. 

Tables equally spaced across the floor fill with cards, silver, or dice. Majority of the room is consumed with men shouting, laughing, and puffing on their cigars. Beautiful women wearing loose, black dresses and feathers in their hair, spin around with trays in their gloved hands and offer drinks. 

This is unthinkable. Fredrick shakes me from my trance and laughs in my ear, “Amazing, isn’t it? Pick a table, any table, and use this to place your bet.”  

He slaps a wad of hundreds in my palm. The weight of the bills soaks my sweat as I blink to him in shock. “This is yours? You make this much?!”

“Only when I’m having a good day.” He winks.

“Fredrick, you are one lucky bastard!” Louis, the town baker, shakes him vigorously with the laugh of a lion. His drink makes a small escape from its rim but he doesn’t seem to notice. “What’s it been now, a week since you started?”

“That’s correct, sir!” Fredrick bellows, “I don’t plan on losing that streak either.” 

“Good man, I’m betting on you tonight.” He points to him then reaches his hand for mine. I grasp it firmly as his grin freezes. “You’re Edwin Miller.”

“Yes, sir.” I chuckle. He knows exactly who I am, I deliver his flour every week. Perhaps his confusion is due to the amount of Merlot he’s had.

“Huh.” He slowly nods, glancing to Fredrick and then relaxing his shoulders. “Well, best of luck to you tonight! I’d sure hate for you to lose out.”

The hyena laughter spreads from behind him, taking his full attention. After excusing himself to the cocktail bar, Fredrick shoves me into the excitement. His mouth moves faster than lightning as he tries to explain the rules of this game consisting of coins. All I’ve gathered is to place a hundred-dollar bill and wish for some sort of good fortune.

The man wearing a black bowtie and vest over his white button-up shirt flips a few coins in a row, landing heads, heads, tails, heads.

“Winner!” The man hollers as the table whistles with glee.

I’m not sure what I did but people shake me with congratulations as the money piles into my hands. The next round continues with different results but the same pattern as he yells, “Winner!”

I have no clue what I’m doing, but with this amount of cash, I don’t really care. Fredrick slides me a scotch on the rocks and snaps for me to continue. 

“What luck!” Some people shout with most eyes on me.

I can’t help but laugh as I place down the next bid, raising the stakes. My drinks refill with more to come as I win one game after another at each table. The room spins with a slight haze, but I’m having too much fun to quit now. 

“It’s time!” A male’s voice echoes from the right as everyone stands and cheers loudly. I spin and squint at the lean man holding a large, round condenser microphone by the stick. His teeth overtake his face as he grants a dramatic bow in the spotlight. Unlike the rest of the crowd wearing black, white, or brown, his suit sparkles in a deep jade with a top hat to match. 

“Who is that?” I ask.

“Our host.” Fredrick smiles with his face, but not with his eyes.

“You all know it as the final flip of the night. Let me hear you say it!” The host leans the mic toward the crowd as they shout in unison, “The coin decides our fate!”

He laughs proudly with the tip of his hat. “Let’s not let our contestant wait any longer. Fredrick, my dear ringer, please show our guest to his seating.” 

The host waves his white, gloved hand to a wooden chair on stage to the right of him. Another light blasts the empty chair, leaving the rest of the stage darkened. 

Before I can ask him who the contestant is, Fredrick pats my back and pushes me forward. The floor shifts with the spinning room until I land in the chair. Heat pierces my eyes as everyone’s face casts a new shadow. 

“Hello, good sir, and welcome to my speakeasy. Would you care to tell everyone who you are?” The host asks and tilts the microphone to me.

“Uhh, I’m Edwin Miller.” I say. 

“Give it up for Edwin!” He screams, making the crowd wilder than a pack of hounds. “Now, as I’m sure you’re all aware of the rules, I’m a gracious host and shall explain it to our new friend. Fredrick, as this is not your first show, please take your seat and we will be with you momentarily.” 

Fredrick strides to another chair on the stage beside mine, only farther away. His melancholy approach is far different than his people-pleasing ways, and that’s just uncomfortable. 

The hosts legs spread wide with the tail of his green coat dangling in between. “So, Edwin, how much money did you make tonight?”

I blink and stare down at my hands, unknowingly clutching the bills. I’ll admit, I’m not sure. I just got caught up in the fun.

“By your expression, I’d say…a lot.” The host jests, energizing the crowd.

I snort, “Yeah. It’s more than I’d make in a lifetime.”

“I bet! Let me ask you this, what would you say if I told you that you could double your money?” 

Double?? My luck has really changed! “I’d say I’m quitting my job tomorrow.”

That gets a round of applause and a few whistles that could shatter glass.

“Humor! I love it! Well, Edwin I hope the luck is in your favor.” The host says. His eyes darken beneath the rim of his hat. “I’ll get right to it then. This is the last game of the evening and all of these people here have placed their bets on whether you win or not. If you do, you get to double your earnings and walk right out that door with their money. What do you say?”

“What happens if I lose?” I ask.

He shrugs with a whimsical spin of his feet to the crowd, “That is an excellent question. I suppose, like all other games, you’d receive nothing. However, what you currently hold in your hands goes to none other than the one who brought you here, my ringer!”

Half of the crowd shouts, practically announcing their choice for the win.

The host lifts his index finger, “But know this, if you choose not to play, you will be free to walk out of here empty handed and the money will return to all of these people. Those are the rules.”

Everyone “boos” at the mention of me walking out and not playing. I bite my lip. Fredrick never mentioned any of this. No wonder he was fine with letting me use his money, he knew I wouldn’t walk away guaranteeing myself nothing. Then again, if I win and double my earnings, I could pay him back or we could return and do this again.

I nod, “Okay, let’s play.”

“Excellent!” The host claps wildly andraises a silver coin pinched between his fingers. “Heads, you win. Tails, you lose. Are you ready?” 

That’s it? A true fifty-fifty odds. But if anything, I have been on fire tonight. I confidently nod, “I’m ready!”

With a flick of his thumb, the silver gleams in the light like an overpowered watermill. Time slows to a stop with its pitched sound taunting me with its every spin. Suddenly, it disappears behind a white glove and slaps onto the hosts opposite hand. He carefully lifts his palm and grins into the mic, still eyeing me. “Heads.”

The crowd’s reactions morph between anger and exhilaration. But none of that matters as a rush of ecstasy fills my chest. I can’t believe I did it! I leap to my feet, jumping and dashing to Fredrick before sliding to a halt. 

His eyes widen to the crowd as a line strokes across his neck. A man in a masquerade mask stands behind him and wipes the red juice from his long blade. Numbness fills my hands and up to my arms as the money falls at my feet. The noise drowns behind me and into the light as Fredrick’s head tumbles to the floor. 

W-What? What just happened?

“I’m sorry to some of you folks, but that’s the game! Edwin gets to collect double and poor Fredrick gets nothing. He did good while he lasted, but as it so happens, everyone’s luck runs out eventually.” The host’s words echo amongst the crowd.

My mouth dries as the wobble in my legs refuse to move my paralyzed feet. I don’t understand…Fredrick knew? Why? Why would he do this? If I had lost, I would’ve been dead. I could’ve just chosen to walk out empty handed, and he’d still be alive. But how was I supposed to know that this was life or death that I was betting on? I mean, who would do such a horrible thing to someone? Pain radiates through my skull as every possible scenario thrashes against each other.

“Congratulations!” The host claps from behind me before making his way to block my view of Fredrick. The corners of his lips stretch to his ears as he leans in with unadulterated joy, “You’re now my new ringer.”