I STOOD IN FRONT OF my small closet, the towel from my shower wrapped around my body while I debated what I wanted to do. My gaze traveled back and forth between a little black dress and a T-shirt I’d stolen from Bishop and didn’t have any plans to return.
Why did it bother me so much that he wanted me to go tonight when a bunch of his friends would be there?
If Bishop had said he would go and help me learn blackjack, I wouldn’t have cared. But his aversion to casinos was obvious. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he must have had some sort of gambling problem in the past and now didn’t want to be close to temptation. I could respect that. After I’d figured that out, I felt awful about asking him to go in the first place. It was like offering up a shot to someone who had dropped hints about being in AA.
Idiot.
But instead of telling me to go and have fun, I felt like he’d organized some kind of safe encounter for me. I should have appreciated it, but something about it had rubbed me the wrong way.
Black dress or T-shirt long enough to be a dress? That was the question.
Did I let my momentary annoyance stop me from experiencing more of New Orleans?
Screw it. I grabbed the black dress off the hanger and made my decision.
I was going, and I would have an amazing time. I might not know the finer points of playing blackjack, but I wasn’t stupid. I could count to twenty-one. I understood the basic principles. I’d take fifty dollars and wouldn’t let myself lose any more than that.
After spending what was probably a little too much time on my hair and makeup, I called a cab and headed down to the courtyard to wait. Harriet sat outside with a bottle of liquor and a giant cigar, puffing away like a pro.
“If I were fifty years younger and into women, I’d pick you up in a heartbeat. Way to go, girl. That man of yours is going to pin you to a wall when he sees you.”
Hearing something like that come out of the mouth of a woman closing in on seventy was still jarring, but Harriet was truly one of a kind and only marginally batshit crazy. I loved her.
“I’m not going out with my man tonight, so he’s going to miss out on all this.” I gestured to my wildly curling hair.
“Oh really? You have a fight? That boy doesn’t seem like the type to let you go out on the town without making sure he can keep his claim intact.”
Her words fired up my annoyance from earlier. “He’s working.”
“His loss. You’ll be the center of attention.”
Immediately, I began to regret my decision to go all out with my primping. The center of attention was not something I needed to be.
She held out the cigar. “Want a puff? It’s a good Cuban.”
Of course it was. Because why would Harriet smoke anything but a Cuban cigar?
“I’m good, thanks. I don’t smoke.” I was actually considering going back up to my room and calling off the entire night when the sound of a horn honking came from out front.
“That’ll be my cab. I should go.”
“Have fun tonight, Eden. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I wondered what exactly that mandate would preclude me from doing, but decided not to think too hard about it. Harriet seemed like she’d done a lot of living in her years, and I couldn’t imagine what she would consider off-limits.
When the cab pulled up in front of the casino, I paid the driver and climbed out. A big sign hung out front advertising the charity event for the evening—THE ONE NIGHT YOU CAN LOSE AND STILL CONSIDER IT A VICTORY.
That was an amazingly generous situation, and I was stunned any casino would agree to donate part of their take. I supposed it had a lot to say about the persuasiveness of the charity and its benefactors.
I took the steps one at a time, careful to make sure my dress stayed down with the breeze picking up off the river. I didn’t want to have a Marilyn Monroe moment and flash an entire crowd of potential donors.
At the door, the man spent longer than normal staring at my ID, and I started to get nervous.
“Enjoy yourself, Ms. Madden,” he finally said before handing it back to me.
I shook off the odd feeling that came with his smile, and headed to the floor. It’s just nerves because you don’t like using a fake ID, I told myself.
The floor was filled with machines that lit up and played music, along with tables, dealers, and plenty of players. More signs that announced the donations that would go to charity tonight hung from the ceiling and sat on the tops of machines. I had no doubt they’d encourage people to play deeper and lose more because they felt like they were losing for a good cause. It was actually a pretty brilliant fundraising idea.
Signs pointing to a silent auction room led in one direction, but I didn’t follow them. I headed toward the tables to watch and teach myself how to play blackjack.
The annoyance and unease I’d felt earlier in the evening fell away as excitement bubbled up. I’d never been inside a casino before, so every part of this experience was new and different. I could see how people would be drawn to the lights and sounds of the slots. They seemed so cheerful and fun. I thought of the fifty dollars in my purse and wondered if I should just stop and try one . . .
No. I was going to the main event. I had a purpose.
Men in tuxes and women in evening gowns were scattered around the giant room in stark contrast to the little blue-haired ladies and people in jeans. I caught sight of Con and his brother, Lord, at a table on the opposite side of the slot machines, but didn’t head in their direction.
I hadn’t texted Bishop yet to tell him my decision, even though I knew it was a shitty thing to do. The last thing I wanted was for him to send his friends to find me and babysit me. I’d had enough babysitting to last a lifetime. Guilt rode me as I walked toward the tables, because I knew Bishop had to be wondering what I’d decided to do. Unless he was so into the tattoo he was finishing he hadn’t noticed the time . . .
That was a cop-out and I knew it. I stopped next to a machine and unzipped my purse to find my phone.
“I remember you.”
The deep, smooth voice came from beside me, startling me so much that everything tumbled out of my purse. I jerked my eyes up to see a familiar man in a tux beside me, and we both crouched to collect my lipstick, loose change, ID, the little cash I brought, keys, and other flotsam and jetsam.
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I loaded my purse back up. “No worries. You just surprised me is all.”
“My wife will never let me live down scaring people by just saying hello if you mention it. Actually, she’ll probably say something that will have me carrying her out of here clawing and kicking. So, feel free to mention away.”
“Umm . . . okay.”
“Lucas Titan. We met at Dirty Dog and again at Valentina’s party before Mardi Gras.”
“I remember. It’s good to see you again.” It was one of those polite throwaway lines, and I immediately wondered if he’d been on the lookout for me at Bishop’s request.
At least, until he spoke again.
“Is Bishop here with you?”
Any budding concern I might have had about him being sent to babysit me fell away with his question. “No, he’s working, but I wanted to . . . show my support and probably lose the entire fifty dollars I’m planning on gambling.”
“What’s your game?”
“It’s about to be blackjack. After I watch a few hands and get the hang of it.”
Titan studied me closely. “You’ve never played?”
“Nope. Never. But tonight I’m going to.”
“You want a rundown on how it works? I’m due to lose some money, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from those two.”
He jerked his head toward Con and Lord, who were ordering cocktails from a circulating server.
“Are you sure you don’t have something better to do?”
He glanced back toward the group. “My wife shooed me away so she could spend time with her girls, so I don’t think I’ll be missed quite yet.”
“Okay, then I appreciate it.”
Lucas Titan led the way to a blackjack table, and I scanned the felt to see what the minimum bet was. I got the feeling his idea of gambling and mine were worlds apart. His tux looked like it cost more than a nice used car.
Five-dollar minimum bet.
I could handle that. I had said I only planned to gamble fifty, so maybe he was being polite.
“I’ll play a few hands and talk you through them. You can jump in whenever you’re ready.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a money clip. He peeled off a hundred and slid it across the table to the dealer.
“Changing one hundred,” the dealer said aloud, and a man stepped up behind him and nodded.
The pit boss? My guess was solely fueled by the knowledge of casinos imparted to me by Hollywood.
The dealer sat out stacks of chips and spread out one stack on the table before pushing them toward Titan. Then he began to deal.
The two other players at the table received their cards first, and Titan kept a running commentary of what he was doing and why as I stood behind him.
I wondered if the dealer would get annoyed, or perhaps the pit boss, but neither said a word. Titan’s stack of chips grew and then diminished before growing again. After about fifteen minutes, I felt like I was getting the hang of it. My hands were sweating where I gripped my wristlet, and equal parts of anticipation and anxiety spread through me.
What if I lost it all in five minutes? I guessed that didn’t really matter, as long as I got to try.
A piece of bumper-sticker philosophy floated into my head. It’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.
Well, I couldn’t win if I didn’t play at all, and this was what I had come to do.
“I’m ready,” I said as I slid into the seat next to Titan.
He gave me an encouraging nod, and I pulled the fifty from my purse. I had an extra twenty stashed to make sure I could get home, but otherwise I was spending everything I had.
I slid the bill across the table, and the dealer repeated the process he’d done with Titan and pushed chips toward me.
The other two players stood and collected their chips. Apparently they didn’t want to play at a table with a complete newbie.
Titan watched them leave and must have read the embarrassment on my face. “You’ve got as much right to play at this table as anyone. Don’t worry about it.”
I nodded and placed a five-dollar chip on the circle in front of my seat, and the dealer began to flip the cards in front of us. Titan talked me through the first four hands, and I lost two and won two.
“Not bad for a beginner. You’re doing fine.”
Two more hands went by, and I was down to thirty dollars in chips and getting a little nervous. I’d taken my chances splitting aces and lost both.
“You’ll either come back or you won’t. The thing you’re doing that’s smart is not betting more than you’re willing to lose.”
“And now you’re a blackjack coach?”
A woman’s voice came from behind us, and we both turned.
“Yve, the love of my life, you remember Eden?”
“Of course I do. I see you’re not wearing one of my dresses.” Her tone sounded playfully disapproving.
“I wasn’t sure what would be considered appropriate for tonight so I fell back on the little-black-dress rule.” I hoped she wasn’t offended, but the smile that spread across her face told me she wasn’t.
Her dress was some kind of vintage couture that hugged and flattered her every curve, and I was immediately envious.
“It was a good choice. Next time, I’ll have to find you something like this. I’ll keep an eye out.”
The next hand was dealt, and I lost another five dollars while Titan won a stack of chips.
“Oh good, you’re winning. Can I borrow you to go bid on a piece that Valentina donated to the silent auction? It matches the other pieces of hers we bought, and there’s no way I’m letting someone else get it.”
Titan stood. “Of course. But you know you can bid on whatever you want.”
“If I’m going to bid enough to buy a car, I kind of need you there to do it for me. I think I’d puke otherwise.”
“All right. I’m coming. Eden, would you like to join us?”
I looked at the dwindling pile of chips in front of me. “I think I’m going to finish this out and probably head home.”
“I think you’ll be playing a lot longer than you think. Good luck. We’ll be around if you need anything.”
The couple, gorgeous in their evening wear, moved in the direction of the silent auction, and I played one more hand before the red card popped out of the deck.
“New dealer,” the current one said as he stepped back to make room for another man. Another player sat down at the table and shot a glance at me with a nod. Not wanting to seem rude, I smiled back at him.
The deck was reshuffled and play continued, but with one very important difference.
I started winning. Every time. It was crazy. I started to bet ten dollars on each hand, and my pile grew and grew. I’d lose once and think my streak was over, but then I’d win the next six in a row. The stacks of chips seemed to multiply, and a heady feeling swept over me.
This was fun.