THE DUSTY, HEAD-IN-OVEN VARIETY OF heat hit me as I strode from McCarren International Airport’s baggage claim with my Kate Spade luggage in tow. Even though Birdie was late—again—a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest as I stood on the curb and inhaled the exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke.
I was finally home.
It had been three weeks since I’d set foot in Sin City, and I missed it. Something about the constant lights and noise and obnoxious heat of this place attracted lost souls. A few years ago, I was one of them. Las Vegas had spoiled me with the glitz and glamour, and it didn’t matter how many places I visited—nothing else ever compared.
My almost marriage to Graham Darby kept me away for longer than I’d anticipated, but thanks to him, Birdie and I would be sitting pretty for at least a year. I could probably even take a vacation, but who was I kidding? I loved the con too much to quit.
As I checked my bank account to ensure Graham had fulfilled his end of the bargain, I couldn’t help but notice that I had an admirer edging closer to me on the curb. He had the subtlety of a shark circling blood-infested waters, and if he weren’t wearing department store khakis, I might have taken the bait.
Ignoring him, I sent Graham a quick email, letting him know that the photographic evidence of his affair would be delivered by six this evening, and he could do with it what he wished.
It was a clean break, and we both came out better for it. Though I probably could have squeezed even more out of him, in the end, I knew when I was pushing my luck. Dealing with powerful men was a dangerous game, but I hadn’t lost yet.
The insufferable vocals of tween pop preceded the flash of red that alerted me to Birdie. Pulling up in the red Audi TTS I bought her last year, she popped her bubblegum and waved for me to get in.
“Sorry, sorry, I know,” she said. “I’m always late.”
With a pink tipped fingernail, she pressed the button that opened the trunk, and my admirer rushed to help me put my bags in.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
Once he finished stuffing my suitcases inside, his eyes didn’t miss the opportunity to roam over my fitted yellow romper and gold stilettos.
“My name’s Kevin,” he offered.
I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Hi, Kevin.”
“Do you have a name?” he teased.
“My name is you can’t afford me, sweetie, so I’m going to save you the trouble of working up the courage to ask me out.”
I didn’t wait for his reply, but I heard it nonetheless. Regardless, I laughed it off. I’d been called worse things than a bitch by guys far more intimidating than Kevin.
“Another one bites the dust, huh?” Birdie laughed as I shut the door, and she gunned it out of the clustered pickup zone.
“He might need some therapy, but I’m sure he’ll survive.”
Birdie turned down the music and gave me a quick once-over before replacing her oversized Coach sunglasses. “How was New York?”
“Crowded, loud, obnoxious.” I sighed.
“C’mon, Gyps,” she whined. “You know I don’t like it when you make me ask a million questions. Just tell me about the money. Did you score big?”
I examined my little sister from the passenger seat, wishing for the thousandth time she’d never found out what I actually did to support us. It was my job to protect her, and even if she was nineteen, Birdie didn’t have the skills to survive this world on her own.
She had grown far too excited when talking about my cons with me, and I needed her to know that it wasn’t exciting. At least, it shouldn’t be for her. It was dangerous. In reality, it was the most dangerous job I could possibly pull off, and every time I went into a con, I never knew if I’d come out alive. But I did it for us.
“Where did you get that ring?” I asked, the gleam from her right hand practically blinding me.
She wiggled her finger and shrugged. “Somebody dropped it in the casino.”
She was lying, and I knew she was lying. That ring had to be worth at least twenty grand, and considering I recently put Birdie on a necessities-only allowance, she couldn’t afford it.
“What about the sunglasses? Did you find those on the floor too?”
She smirked. “Of course not. I just smiled and batted my eyelashes, and the sales guy gave me a huge discount.”
“Birdie.” I rubbed my temples, trying to will away the tension. “We’ve talked about this.”
“About what?” She tried using the same tactic she just described by batting her pretty blue eyes at me.
“You’re getting too used to this lifestyle. I don’t like it. You need to cut back and start focusing on your future. On school.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head, strands of blond hair flying around her face. “School is boring. I want to work with you.”
“No.” My jaw clenched. “That will never happen. Never.”
“I’m an adult, Gypsy. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”
“Then why don’t you act like one and get your GED like you promised you would?”
“Funny coming from you.” She rolled her eyes. “Hypocritical much?”
My attention drifted out the window, watching the cars fly by as we wound our way across Summerlin Parkway. I was so tired of this argument. I knew it, and Birdie knew it, but neither one of us knew what to do about it.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Birdie muttered a minute later. “Are you mad at me?”
I smiled at her because she was always the first to break. I loved my sister more than anything. I think she was the only person I was actually capable of loving. So the question was ridiculous, but she asked it often because deep down she was still a damaged little girl.
“I could never be mad at you,” I told her. “I just want what’s best for you. Always.”
“I know.” She dipped her head to hide her emotion. “That’s why I’m trying to do what I promised. I’m still going to all my classes. Mostly.”
“If you want to get into design school, you need to have your GED. There’s no way around that.”
“I know.” She shrugged a dainty shoulder. “It’s just hard to stay focused while I get through all the boring stuff first.”
“It will get easier,” I assured her.
“What about you, Gyps? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I leaned my head back against the headrest and smiled at her joke. I was already well and truly grown up. Too grown up for twenty-three. “I want to be rich.”
“Ha.” Birdie snorted. “Could have seen that one coming.”
She whipped the car into a parking space in front of our luxury apartment building in Summerlin North but kept the car idling.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I have class.”
My gaze moved to the clock on the dashboard. I knew her schedule like the back of my hand because it was the only way I could feel safe. Those details were vital to me. There was never a question in my mind that at any minute we might need to cut and run, and I was constantly reminding her of it.
“Your class doesn’t start for three hours.”
Birdie groaned. She got sick of me being so overprotective of her, but she secretly loved and needed it. “Yes, but I need to study for a test. I’m meeting Trouble at Starbucks to chill out for a couple of hours. If I stay here with you, I’ll be too distracted.”
I wanted to believe her, but something about her explanation didn’t sit right with me. Birdie had never been so dedicated to her studies before. She would usually cram for a test fifteen minutes beforehand in the parking lot while chugging a Rockstar. She didn’t even like coffee. And as far as her new friend Trouble? Well, the name said it all. Birdie had found the lost, homeless girl wandering through a casino, and they’d been inseparable ever since. I didn’t necessarily think she was a good influence for Birdie, but she was trying to make a point that it was time to relinquish some of my control over her life. The anxieties would never go away, but I knew that there would be a day when Birdie would decide she was ready to start taking baby steps toward her freedom, and it looked to me like that day was arriving.
“Just be careful,” I pleaded with her. “Check in before you get to class, please. And when you’re on your way home.”
“I will,” she promised.
She never argued with me on these points because she knew it would make me sick with worry if she didn’t follow through. Birdie might have been a brat, but she loved me too, and she would never want to hurt me.
I got out of the car and grabbed my suitcases, rolling them up to the sidewalk.
“Hey,” Birdie called out after me. “How about dinner tonight? A celebration for when I ace this test.”
I smiled. “Sure, that sounds good. How about Sinatra at seven? I’ll make us a reservation.”
“Perfect!” she shouted. “Make sure it’s on the patio.”
I rolled my eyes, but I ultimately relented, the way I always did with Birdie.