“I’m what?” I looked down at my hand, thinking that I was holding two aces, and I knew one was about to land on the flop. How was that counting? That was just paying attention.
He got up from the table and left the room. We never played cards again, and his gambling problem only got worse. By the time it got really bad, we were already out the door and moving into the senator’s mansion. Mary-Grace was always ten steps ahead.
It wasn’t until I started playing with the security at the senator's mansion that they told me what I was doing. I guess I won too many times, and they started to see a pattern. They were nicer about it, though, telling me it wasn’t necessarily illegal, but it would get your ass kicked out of every casino in Vegas.
Here I was with a natural ability to do something people would give anything for. Being good at something like that appealed to me. It was sneaky, and I liked the idea of thinking I could get away with it. And maybe if I was good enough, I could get away with it in Vegas.
Those were all just silly thoughts I had when we lived with the senator. It wasn’t until my mama got sick and passed away did I start to think that idea had some legs. I could set things in motion after she died, and it only took six months for me to be out of a home, and making my way to Vegas.
I remember the bus ride and feeling sorry for myself. But then I closed my eyes and heard Mary-Grace’s voice in my head. “Never let them see your mascara run.”
When I got to Vegas, the first thing I did was hit a casino. It was either walk out a winner, or walk out the same way I walked in. I didn’t have anything to lose, and that’s what makes the most dangerous criminals.
I turned twenty dollars into twelve thousand that night and was offered a room at the casino. I knew enough to know that I’d raised some flags, so I stopped and took my winnings up to my room. I had enough to last me a while, and at that moment I just needed a little peace.
When I went to bed that night, I cried until I couldn’t shed another tear. I never let anyone see.
“Missus…?”
“Oh, honey, I’m far too young to be called a missus. You can call me Peaches.”
The older man across the table from me blushes, and I give him a wink. He seems harmless, but I’m not taking any chances. I stick to my rules. Be polite, be charming, be their fantasy, but don’t let them touch you.
I sit back in my chair, waiting for the dealer, and it’s then I feel it. His eyes are on me.
I know before I turn around, those Sinatra-like baby blues are going to be waiting on me. And yet I can’t stop myself from doing it.
When I lock eyes with his, everything inside me is set on fire. On the outside, I’m calm and cool. But on the inside, there’s a raging inferno that wrecks my body with need.
My eyes roam down his suit and back up to his eyes again. He looks like George Clooney standing there with his salt and pepper hair, hands in his pockets, and that half smile of his. He’s old enough to be my father, but nothing about him strikes me as paternal.
Biting my lips is the only way to keep the moan from leaving my lips. This is bad. This is very, very bad.
3
Don
The dealer says something to her, drawing her eyes away from mine and back to him. I clench my jaw at the loss, at the thought of someone else pulling her attention away from me. When she looked at me, I didn’t see surprise in her eyes. I thought I’d always been good at fading into the background and not getting too close to her. But the look in her eyes felt like she’d seen me before. Maybe she actually had seen me that day she walked right past me without giving me a second look.
Or maybe she’s done her research on the hotel she’s staying in. Probably the latter.
I don’t wait to see if she turns to look at me again. I don’t want to see her give me one of those fake smiles she so easily gives out. It’s strange not having someone’s undivided attention. I’ve been in Vegas my whole life, worked my way to the top. Everyone who is anybody here knows who I am. There isn’t anyone in this city with a little power who doesn’t owe me a favor for one reason or another.
Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to her. She’s not someone who would give in so easily. I’ll have to chase her. She’ll make me work to have her. I know it’s going to be a fight, and I’m going to enjoy every bit of it. It’s been years since I’ve had to fight for anything, really work for something. Now everything just seems to drop into my lap.