Lucky looked away from the sun, blinked over and over until the world came back into focus, stared into the pool water, at their toes beneath it, side by side. Steph had given her a toe ring too; their matching rings glinted in the waves. Sister feet.
“I guess you never know,” Lucky said, lifting her hand away from Steph’s to rub at her cheeks until they were dry. But Steph reached up and grabbed her hand again.
“I know,” she said. “I know you’re going to be just fine. One day, it’s going to be as if this rare disease you have just… disappeared.”
“Yes, one day,” Lucky said. “That’s exactly what it’s going to be like.”
CHAPTER TWO
Deep inside the Bellagio, Lucky sought out Cary; he was leaning against a distant bar, watching. She winked at him, then looked back down at her cards. The opponent to her left, a guy so young he had pimples on his chin, called the bet in their game of Texas Hold’em.
“Two hundred.”
She pretended to be thinking hard. The sounds of the casino rose around her: music, clinking glassware, laughter, a shout.
“I raise to three hundred,” she replied. The pimply kid barely suppressed a laugh.
“Ma’am, that’s an illegal raise,” the dealer said. “You have to double the bet.”
“Right. Silly me! So I double it, then.”
“Four hundred to you, ma’am?”
“That’s right.”
The dealer turned to the nondescript middle-aged man on Lucky’s right. He was wearing a wedding ring but had been ogling her since she sat down, making no secret of it. He raised, too, then tried to get a glimpse down the neckline of her dress. Lucky pretended to be so dim she didn’t notice. The fourth player, a man in a too-baggy suit, folded. So did the pimply kid.
“I fold, too, I guess,” Lucky said, tossing her red curls over her shoulder. She could feel Cary still watching from across the room. She allowed herself to meet his eyes again; one corner of her mouth rose in a secret smile. When she had her new cards she nestled them against her cleavage, blocking the view of the middle-aged man beside her. Cary laughed. This felt good. She hoped Cary felt it, too. It was why she had wanted to come here: so they could both find a way back to each other before they took off.
“Ma’am? Cards on the table, please.”
“Oops. Sorry. Forgot that rule, too.” Lucky laid her cards flat and smiled at the man.
The man with the baggy suit called pre-flop. In the past hour he’d raised only once. It meant he had a big card—not that it changed anything. When it was her turn, she raised to six hundred, then nodded, as if proud of herself for finally getting the hang of things.
“Twenty-five hundred,” said the pimply kid.
The middle-aged man called the pimply kid’s bet, and so did the man in the baggy suit.
“I’m all in,” Lucky said, looking over at Cary. But he was talking to a man at the bar, their heads bent together, their expressions intense. A tingling of fear, a whisper in her ear. Who is that?
“Excuse me? Hello?” The pimply kid was leaning in, eyes narrowed. “Are you bluffing?”
She stared back at him wide-eyed, her hands clasped in front of her. “I can’t answer that, of course.”
He shrugged. “I fold,” he said. The other two players folded, too.
The dealer nodded at Lucky and slid the chips—nine thousand dollars’ worth—toward her. The pot was hers. Cary was alone again, leaning against the bar, staring off into the distance.
“All right,” said the pimply kid. “Show us your aces, then, if you weren’t bluffing.”
“I never said I wasn’t bluffing.” Lucky stood, flipping her cards as she did. They were terrible: a five of spades, a ten of diamonds. She looked down at her winnings, then shoved half toward the dealer as a tip—while he blinked in disbelief—and the rest over to the pimply kid. “Have fun. That was great. Thanks, y’all.” The players stared, astonished, as she turned and made her way toward the bar.
“Hey, you should have kept those chips,” Cary said when she arrived at his side. “Looks like you won a lot.”
“But why? We’re leaving tomorrow. We have enough money in our Dominica account. I’d have to show ID to cash these in. Plus, it was just for fun. The looks on their faces! Totally worth it.”
His expression was hard to read. It was, she realized with a sinking feeling, his poker face.
“Are you okay?” she said. “Who was that you were talking to?”
“Oh, just some guy wanting to know where the bathroom was,” Cary said. He stepped closer. Now he was looking at her the way he had when they had first met, back when his gaze had made her feel like she was one of the wonders of the world. “I love you so much, you know that? You make everything fun. Come on.” He pulled her toward the bar. “You’re right. We’re rich. And we need to celebrate. Celebrate life. Bottle of ’85 Dom, please,” he said to the bartender.
“Cary, no, it’s getting late, and we have an early flight—”
“So we won’t go to bed, then,” Cary said with a laugh. “You said you wanted to have the best night of your life before we left, and the night is still young.” He reached for the bottle while she reached for him.
“I just meant I don’t think we’ll finish it. We have to wake up so early to get to the airport. I thought we’d just go back up to the room and…” She kissed him and he turned his attention away from the bar.
“We have plenty of time for that, Lu. Tomorrow, we run away. Tonight, it’s a party. Like it’s our last night on earth.” He planted one more kiss on her lips. As the bartender popped the champagne cork, Cary said to her, “Repeat after me: I just want to party all night.”
She accepted her glass. “I just want to party.”
“All night.”
“All night,” she repeated dutifully.
He grabbed the bottle and strode across the casino. They reached the exit and the security guard called out, “Hey, you can’t take that bottle—” but Cary handed him a hundred-dollar bill without breaking stride. Lucky took off her stilettos and dangled them from her fingers as she ran to catch up with him at the elevator bank.
He pulled a card out of his pocket. It said STAFF ONLY. When they got on the elevator, he used it to access a restricted floor.