“It’s busy in here tonight.” Joe stumbles through the door of The Gold Room and takes his usual seat on the end. He smells a little like urine and a lot like whiskey and I wonder which bar he hit up on the way here. “Do I got room on my tab for somethin’ to eat?”

“I’ll check.” I head to the back, without checking his tab, and grab the hamburger I made for myself before we got busy. “Here you go,” I say, sliding the plate to him.

He doesn’t say thank you, doesn’t acknowledge me in any way, just scoops up the sandwich with both hands and eats nearly half of it before I can look away.

“Where’s Nate?” Billy calls from the other end.

“He’ll be here in a second.”

“Gotcha.”

I lean on the bar and watch the television that hangs overhead. It’s covering the Landry Charity Gala at Picante. The anchor is talking about how charities get so much more attention, and money, when the Landry’s are attached to them.

They have a mini-red carpet set up leading into the hotel lobby. Baseball players, a B-level movie star, and a few musicians have all been interviewed before they disappear through the doors.

I’ve seen this before. It’s not unusual. The Landry’s are well-known for their charity work. But now that I know Camilla and know she’s there … it’s weird.

“What are you thinkin’ about, baby?”

I look up to see an older woman, leather skin and bright red lips, leaning towards me. Her tits are resting on the bar, laying it out there that if I want it, I can have it.

“Just wondering what it’s like up there tonight,” I say truthfully, nodding to the cameras.

“Fancy clothes, fancy cars. More money than they know what to do with so they give it away.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she breathes. “They’re a whole different level than us.”

I’m on the verge of admitting how right she is when my phone buzzes on the shelf below me. I see Cam’s name on the screen.

“Do you need anything or can I take this call?” I ask her. “It’s important.”

“Oh, take it,” she says, waving a hand through the air. “I got nowhere to be.”

Swiping the screen and heading into the back, I feel my heartbeat soar. “Hey,” I say once I can hear.

“Hey.” Her voice is sweet, but missing the warmth I usually hear. “Where are you?”

“I had to fill in for Nate for a little bit.”

“So you’re at the bar?”

“Yeah.” I hear her sadness and want desperately to make it leave. “Hey, your brother’s buddy Travis called today.”

“Troy’s brother?”

“Yeah, that one. He’s coming by tomorrow to look at some stuff for Nate. He’s a cool guy.”

“Travis and Troy are both awesome. I knew you’d like him.”

“So what are you doing?” I ask like I have no idea.

“Well, I’m in the car on my way to Picante,” she sighs. “I wish you were here.”

“It’s on T.V.,” I tell her. “I’ve been waiting to see you.”

“They’re supposed to interview me when I get there. I hate that part of it.”

I laugh, picking up a glass and putting it in the sink. “You’re famous.”

“Hardly,” she groans. “We’re pulling up. I’ll see you after?”

“Let me know when you’re home and I’ll come over,” I promise. “Have fun tonight.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“You, too, Cam.”

She’s gone before I even get it all said. With a frown that I hate wearing, I tuck my phone in the pocket of my jeans and head back to the front.

“Can I get a Jack and Coke?” someone shouts right away.

I make the drink and deliver it to a man next to Billy. When I look up, I see her on the screen.

She’s breathtakingly gorgeous in a light yellow dress that sits off her shoulders. Her hair is pulled up, diamonds in her ears, and her make-up so minimal, if she has any on at all, that she looks like an angel.

“She’s pretty, all right,” Red Lips says, sidling up to the bar again. She sighs a rough, smoker’s cough. “I wonder what it’s like to be one of them.”

“I have no idea,” I say, fascinated by Camilla. She smiling, not looking at all like the mellow woman I just talked to on the phone. She laughs, teasing the interviewer, before posing for a few pictures and disappearing inside the hotel.

“I’ll never know,” Red Lips admits. “Hell, you could dress me up in one of those dresses and dot me with diamonds and I’d still look like a poser. You can take the girl out of the trailer park but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.”

She laughs at her joke, repeating it to the guy that joins her at the bar. He laughs too.

I, on the other hand, do not. Not because she isn’t funny. Because she’s right.