Free The Amateurs by Marcus Sakey

padded barefoot out of the bedroom, her thoughts straightening as she moved, and by the time she looked out the peephole, she already knew who it was. Jenn lowered the bat, then unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door halfway.
    Alex loomed in the hallway, seeming bigger than normal. The yellow lighting gave his skin a sallow tone, but his eyes were furiously alive, bright and wide and bloodshot. He stared at her. She was suddenly conscious of how she looked, worn cotton pajamas and a baseball bat, hair tangled with sleep.
    “Let’s do it,” he said.
    She crossed her arms over her breasts. “That’s romantic.”
    “Not that.” He took a step forward. “The money.”
    “What?”
    “Let’s screw Johnny Love.”
    She rubbed at her eyes. Thoughts quick with adrenaline moments before now seemed sluggish. “It’s four in the morning.”
    “They’re taking Cassie.”
    “Who is?”
    “My ex and her new husband.”
    “Alex—”
    “Can I come in? Just to talk.”
    She stared at him, thinking of the evening she’d already endured. The blind date that was nice enough but smelled like an aquarium; three hours of talk that got smaller by the minute. She thought of her bed, a cocoon of warm blankets, and the dream of the motorcycle, flying fast over smooth blacktop. Imagined spending the remainder of the night fighting yawns while Alex babbled about another woman.
    “Please?”
    She sighed, leaned the bat in the corner. “Come on. I’ll make coffee.”
    The kitchen lights seemed particularly brilliant with night pressing against the windows. She gestured to a stool, pulled filters from a drawer, poured coffee from the bag in the freezer.
    “Trish called tonight. Her new husband got a job in Phoenix. They’re moving there, and taking Cassie.”
    “Can they do that?” She held the pot under the faucet.
    “Apparently. I’ve missed some child support payments, and I guess that gives them the right.” He paced behind her, stalking the cage of her kitchen. “I miss a couple of bills, and they take my girl from me.”
    She set the pot on the base and flicked the machine on. It gurgled and hissed. “You want a drink, something else?”
    He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking all night. Since I got the message. Can you believe that? She left it on my answering machine. I’d just got home from working a double”—he made a sound in his throat, blew air through his nostrils—“Anyway, I’ve been trying to figure how to stop her. Thinking all kinds of crazy things.” His motion fast, hands running across his shaven head. “Like going over right now, grabbing Cassie, taking off.”
    “Alex, no—”
    “I know. I know. But she’s my daughter. All I’ve got. Anyway, I figured a better way. The child support. All I have to do is pay, and they can’t do this. Her husband wants to move, let him, and Trish too. Cassie can move in with me.”
    “Does it work that way?”
    “What?”
    “Can you just pay the late child support and then—”
    “Of course. That’s the only thing they’ve got. I pay that, she can’t just move away.”
    Jenn gave a noncommittal sort of nod. That didn’t sound right, didn’t make a lot of sense, but she didn’t see any point in saying so. She wasn’t a lawyer, it wasn’t her business, and she didn’t particularly like talking about his wife. Ex.
    “So all we have to do is get the money—”
    “Alex.” She spoke firmly.
    “What?”
    “Sit down.”
    He opened his mouth, then closed it, and moved to perch on the stool. “Sorry. I must sound crazy.”
    “Little bit.”
    “I’m just . . . I love that girl, Jenn. I love her more than anything. They can’t take her from me.” His expression so earnest it had sharp edges.
    “One step at a time. How much money are we talking?”
    “I don’t know. Enough. If they added everything over the years, too much. Her lawyer is slick, probably got it figured to the penny with interest.” He laid his hands on the counter,