“So, eh, you’re not planning on cheating tonight, are you?” I ask on the drive.

Last night while I’d been reading up on blackjack, I’d noticed an article about counting cards and got a little nervous. I had this vision of being hauled into the back offices of the casino by some scary bouncers. There’d be a bunch of migrant workers sitting at long tables, counting money in their underwear, while some old mob boss character would threaten me with a gun for trying to cheat the system.

Okay, so maybe I’ve been watching a few too many heist movies. I’m not even sure if there are mob bosses in Ireland. Not the proper Italian ones, anyway. Chinese triad, maybe.

Jay laughs quietly, his hands loose on the steering wheel. “You really think I’m a shifty fuck, don’t you?”

“I never said that! It’s just that you do what you do…and I’m sure you must know how to count cards.”

“You been doing some detective work, Watson?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply, crossing my arms.

“I mean, have you been looking me up?”

I snort (rather unattractively). “Noooo.”

“Lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Another lie.” He chuckles. “You’ve got to remember the behavioural science crazy uncle, Matilda. I can tell when someone’s telling a fib. Mostly.”

I let out a sigh. “Fine. I might have come across a YouTube video.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He looks at me sideways, his eyes smiling. “Were you impressed?”

“Obviously. I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to get that girl’s card up onto the screen in the nightclub.”

“That was a fun one. But if you’re hedging for me to reveal my secrets you’re shit out of luck.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

He nudges me with his shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so sad. Maybe I’ll tell you one or two sometime if you’re really, really nice to me.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound sinister at all,” I say, deadpan.

Jay laughs. “Look, I’m not going to be counting cards, so you don’t have to worry. The secret to good gambling is to know when to bet and when to stop.”

“How very vague. That tells me nothing,” I groan.

“Watch me tonight and you’ll learn,” he says, pulling the car into a parking spot close to the office. “Now, out you get, and have a good day at work, munchkin.”

I slide out of the car and turn to face him. “Oh, please, no. Watson I can handle, munchkin, not so much.”

He raises his hands in the air. “Hey, we’ve got to eat a few sour grapes before we get to the sweet ones.”

I just shake my head at him and turn to leave. All the way to the office I can hardly keep the smile off my face.

***

My day passes in the usual mundane fashion. Every hour that brings me closer to home time makes me more and more anxious. I’ve gone through a number of outfit possibilities in my head for tonight. Jay said to wear something nice, but I can’t tell if he meant “nicey nice” or “sexy nice.” I’ve always adored fashion, but I’ve never been able to pull off “sexy nice,” so I suppose “nicey nice” is the direction I’m going to have to take.

I settle on a pretty dark blue tea dress that I made myself. It reaches just past my knees, and I’ll match it with my coveted black Louboutins. They’re probably the only “sexy nice” item I own. I mostly wear them for special occasions, but I’m thinking my first foray into the world of casino gambling definitely counts as special.

When I arrive home, I pop a ready meal for one in the oven, since Dad’s working late in the office with Will and then he’s going to the book club. When I go upstairs, I pass by Jay’s room and see the door’s wide open. He’s sitting on the floor, messy stacks of books all around him and dozens of sheets of paper with indecipherable handwriting spread out on the wood floor. The bin is full to the brim with crumpled papers and his laptop is open, playing a video of a surgeon carrying out some kind of operation. Quite bizarre.

I’ve always been squeamish about blood, so I look away.

“I didn’t realise you were home,” I say, standing in the doorway. His head comes up, his eyes meeting mine as he scratches his jaw. His hair is all dishevelled, which for some reason makes me want to touch it.

“Matilda. How was your day?” he asks, shoving some of the papers aside and pressing “pause” on the video. I take one step inside the room.

“Good. Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Ah, just working out some new tricks.”

So he’s not studying to become a surgeon, then. “So you’re definitely not quitting?” I ask, curious.

He shoots me a wry look and laughs harshly. “What, because some bitch who doesn’t even know me decided to sit at her computer and rip me a new one? Hell to the fuck no. It’ll take a lot more than a few articles to put a stop to me.”

I don’t know what to say to that. In fact, his passionate anger puts me a little on edge, even though it isn’t directed at me, so I change the subject. “Do you want dinner? I’m just making something quick.”

“No, I’m good. I already ate.” The flat tone and faraway look in his eyes give me the impression he’s somewhere else right now, so I quickly take my leave.

“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Be ready for eight,” he calls after me, his eyes returning to the laptop screen.

“Will do.”

I close the door and go to my own room. Jay’s demeanour seemed different just now, mercurial somehow. Granted, I’ve only known him a day, so I’m sure there are many more sides to him than the witty charmer I’ve known him to be.

I eat dinner in front of the TV. Jay doesn’t come down at all, still up in his room doing his research, or whatever it is he’s doing. A while later I’m in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches to my makeup, when there’s a tap on the door.

“Knock, knock, can I come in?” Jay asks from outside as I clip a strand of hair at my temple.

I get a momentary jolt but then realise I’m decent, so I say, “Sure.” Still, I find it a little odd that he wants to come in here.

He steps into the small room, casual as you please, wearing a dark shirt and slacks. The first button of the shirt is undone, showing a hint of the tattoos at his collarbone. He lets out a low whistle, and I can’t help but blush. “You scrub up well, Watson.”

I focus on putting in my contact lenses as his eyes trail down my legs to my feet. “Nice shoes. Real nice. They make up for the conservative neckline.”

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

I have my contacts in now, and his eyes are still on my shoes, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he swallows. What the hell is he thinking about? I brush on some lip gloss and I’m done. Jay’s still standing behind me, but now his eyes are on my face. I can’t really decipher his look, since I’ve never had a man stare at me like he is. The only way I can describe it is somewhere in between hot and smouldering. Yikes.

I find it difficult to believe it’s directed at me, but it must be. I mean, there’s nobody else in the room.

I cough. “Are you driving?”

He shakes his head, and his expression clears. “Nah, I think we’ll taxi it. After we get you your eight hundred, we’re going to want to celebrate.” He flashes me a wide, toothy smile.

“Right. I hope not too much. It’s a work night,” I say, unable to help myself. And I had almost pulled off cool. Almost.

Jay’s hand moves to rest on my shoulder, his voice unexpectedly soft. “Don’t worry, Watson. I’ll have you home and tucked in bed by one.”

If I were a provocative person I might say something sassy, like, “Oh, yeah, and are you going to be the one doing the tucking?” But I’m not, so I don’t. Jay says he’ll wait downstairs for me and leaves me to it.

Dad’s coming in the door just as we’re leaving, the taxi idling by the side of the road. He tells us to have a great night, and then Jay’s ushering me in the back of the taxi. I’m nervous on the ride, while Jay makes boisterous small talk with the driver.

I check to make sure I brought my hundred and fifty with me several times. Then I check to make sure I brought my I.D., since you’ve got to be twenty-one to get into some of the casinos.

Jay pays the fare when we arrive in the city a couple of minutes later. I look up at the sleek black front of the building with the flashing sign above the entrance. There’s a bouncer on the door who’s about as wide as he is tall, and I can’t tell if it’s muscle or fat. He’s wearing a suit and has an earpiece.

Unexpectedly, Jay slides his arm around my waist as we approach, pressing the side of my body flush to his. Okay, this is new. I haven’t been this close to a man in quite some time. He looks down at me for a second, and I think I see his gaze zone in on my lips, tracing the lines of my mouth.

And now I think I just came. I really need to get a handle on this crush of mine.

The bouncer lets us in right away, no asking for I.D. It must be Jay’s confidence that got us through without incident. Right now Jay’s hand is resting on my hip, and I can hardly concentrate on anything else. It feels so warm and tingly and good. He shows me how to exchange my cash for chips, his arm dropping and my expectations dropping with it.

I put my chips in my bag, and then Jay’s gripping my chin with his fingers, bringing my eyes up to his. “Okay, Matilda, you’re making me anxious just looking at you. Let’s go get you a drink first to loosen up.”

“I’m not nervous,” I mutter as he guides me to the bar and I slide my bum onto a stool.

He shakes his head and nods for the bartender to come over. “What’s it going to take to get you to stop lying to me?”

“I’m sorry. It’s kind of my default setting,” I reply quietly. “I don’t lie because I’m being duplicitous. I just lie because I don’t want people to know when I’m, like, scared and stuff.”

Whoa, that was quite honest.

His smile when he looks at me is warm. “I know. But you don’t have to lie to me. Plus, I can tell when you’re scared and stuff anyway.”

Well, there is that.

The bartender arrives, and Jay asks for a J.D. and Coke. I’m in the mood for a cocktail, so I scan the menu above the bar. Damn, why do the cocktails that sound the best always have the most embarrassing names?

Fuck it, I might as well order what I want. Jay will probably be able to tell anyway, what with his psychic body-language-reading skills, or whatever it is you’d call them.

“I’ll have the Porn Star Martini, please,” I say decisively.

The bartender doesn’t even bat an eyelid as he goes off to fetch our orders.

“Brave choice,” says Jay with a smirk. “You fixing to get drunk, Watson?”

“Hmm, not until after I win my eight-hundred…or lose my one-fifty. Either scenario will call for alcohol, I’m guessing.”

He touches my elbow for a second. “You won’t lose your one-fifty, I promise.”

“And you have no idea how bad I could be at this.”

Our drinks arrive, and I delight in how there’s an actual passion fruit floating in the yellow liquid. Whenever I see there’s champagne in a cocktail, I just have to have it. My brain tells me it’ll be classy.

I suck it up through a straw (not so classy) and find that Jay was right — it is loosening me up. The place isn’t too packed, since it’s only a Wednesday night, but there are a reasonable number of people around. My attention is drawn to a balding guy who’s swearing like a madman at a slot machine.

“He does realise the machine can’t swear back, right?” I whisper to Jay jokingly.

“Gambling crazies. There’s always one.”

Jay orders another drink and brings it with him as he leads me through the casino. I look around, taking it all in. When I spy the roulette table, I hurry on ahead, eager to see what it’s like. A middle-aged man in a suit makes a bet, and the wheel spins. When he wins, he gets a satisfied look on his face as his businessmen friends congratulate him. I can certainly see how this stuff could become addictive.

When we get to the blackjack table, there’s a guy in his twenties and a woman in maybe her early forties playing. The woman has platinum-blonde hair and is wearing a lot of gold jewellery, a look of faded grandeur about her. The guy is decent-looking, with dark hair and nice eyes. Jay takes a seat, setting his glass down on the edge of the table. The dealer is a tall, bored-looking woman with short black hair and almost as many tattoos as Jay. You can’t see them all, though, since she’s wearing the casino uniform. She also has two silver hoops through her nose and one in the centre of her bottom lip.

She reminds me of one of my lady heroes, Lisbeth Salander, from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. If only I were half as cool as Lisbeth, I’d be twice as cool as I actually am.

When the dealer sees Jay, her eyes light up and she gives him a measured smile. Hmm, do they know each other?

“Never said you were coming tonight,” she says in a deep, husky voice.

“I’m showing my new friend Matilda here the ropes,” he replies, and I take the seat beside him.

She turns to me, her eyes scanning me up and down before giving me a friendly nod. “Ah, so this is Matilda. She’s exactly like you described her.”

I shoot Jay a questioning glance. He’s been telling people about me already? And more to the vain point, how, pray tell, did he describe me?

“This is my friend Jessie,” he says by way of introduction.

“Hello.” I dip my head and joke, “So, together you’re ‘Jessie J.’”

There’s a moment of silence as Jessie raises an eyebrow and suppresses a smirk while Jay gives my shoulder a pat.

“You know, like the singer?” I go on.

“I told you she has a great offbeat sense of humour,” says Jay to Jessie.

“Yeah, I get that.” Jessie smiles at me before turning back to him. “So are you going to place a bet, or did you just come to stare at my gorgeous mug all night?”

“A bit of both,” Jay responds before placing some chips down in a little circle on the table in front of him. Jessie raises an eyebrow at his chips and then picks up a deck of cards, shuffling them. She takes a plain blue card and hands it to the blonde woman, giving her what I’m thinking is a flirtatious smile. Oh. Oh. For a second there I’d wondered if she and Jay were an item. Now I’m seeing that’s probably not the case.

Jessie starts dealing the cards out. I watch with interest as Jay studies his: a seven of diamonds and a four of clubs.

I crane my neck and ask, “Is that good?”

“She really is a novice,” Jessie murmurs from her spot at the head of the table.

“A blackjack virgin,” says Jay with a mischievous grin. “I’m breaking her in slowly.”

The young guy chuckles quietly while the blonde woman flattens her lips in distaste.

“Nice visual,” I put in sarcastically.

Jay’s smile only grows bigger as his eyes lock on mine. “I like to think so.”

The blonde indicates that she’d like another card (which I learned in my reading last night is called a “hit”), but the guy simply waves to show he’s sticking with what he’s got. Jay gets another card, too.

I don’t know much about this game, but I did read that the person with the closest to twenty-one is the winner, and each card has its own numerical value.

Once everybody’s cards are revealed, it turns out that the blonde has fifteen, the guy has eighteen, and Jessie has seventeen. But Jay has a perfect twenty-one, winning the game. He’d put down one hundred euros’ worth of chips, so he wins a hundred.

“This is all so exciting,” I exclaim, really getting into it. It’s fun to watch people win money.

“That was too easy,” says Jay. “Let’s make things a little more interesting.” He places all the chips he won, the ones he put down originally, plus a few more in the circle this time.

They all start to play another game, and the blonde wins. It gets more complicated, and there are lots of fancy terms thrown around, like “double down” and “five card Charlie.” Jay does his best to explain each one as we go. Along the way I have another two Porn Star Martinis, so I’m well on the road to Tipsyville.

There’s a group of businessmen sitting at a table close by, having drinks and talking loudly. As I stare at Jay, I notice he’s discreetly watching them. He doesn’t seem annoyed that they’re being loud, but he does seem to be keeping track of them for some reason. It gets me curious, so now I watch them as well.

They’re mostly middle-aged men, but there’s one man at the head of the table who looks to be in his sixties. He’s drinking a glass of wine and laughing at something the man beside him is saying. He’s the one Jay has his eye on the most.

“Jay,” says Jessie quietly as she deals out more cards. There seems to be a warning in her tone.

He lifts his head to her slowly, almost like he’d been in a trance, watching the old guy.

“What?” he clips out. I haven’t heard him be short like this until now.

She stares at him for a long moment, her body tense, then says, “Quit eye-fucking the businessmen. You’ll make them nervous.”

Jay lets out a breath and looks away, picking up the cards she just dealt him. “I was just taking in the scenery,” he mutters.

“Sure,” says Jessie, then in a barely audible voice, “Tell that to the white shotgun look in your eyes.”

I momentarily wonder what she’s talking about, slipping my phone out and covertly looking up what “white shotgun” means. Turns out it’s a mob term for killing someone in such a way that they vanish without a trace. Okay, that’s not weird at all. Or disturbing.

In the next game, Jay wins by the skin of his teeth with eighteen, trumping Jessie’s seventeen. After seeing him play a number of times at this point, I really am impressed. If I were Jay, I’d almost have enough for my new sewing machine right now. Soon the young guy leaves and then the blonde does, too, but not without slipping her number to Jessie before she walks away.

Jessie smiles to herself as she shoves the piece of paper in her pocket.

Jay glances at the blonde’s retreating figure. “How’s that working out for you?” he asks curiously.

Jessie cocks an eyebrow. “How do you think? She’s got a bangin’ body.”

“Yeah, and enough jewellery to sink the Titanic.”

Jessie snickers. “So, any more gambling for yourself tonight, sir, or are you done?”

Jay’s gaze lands on me. “I’m thinking we’ll give our little virgin a chance to play.”

I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m still not entirely certain of the rules.”

“We’ll go slowly,” says Jessie.

“Like any good de-flowerer,” Jay puts in.

“I’ll have you know I was de-flowered quite some time ago,” I blurt humorously while pointing a finger at Jay, the martinis well and truly taking their hold.

Jessie laughs, but Jay turns in his seat to give me a heated look, his lips curving in an almost smile. “Come on, then, let’s hear the story.”

“Not a chance,” I answer sassily, rummaging in my bag for my chips. With a proud look on my face, I set down ten euros’ worth.

“High roller,” says Jay with a chuckle.

Jessie gives him a scolding look before saying to me, “You don’t have to bet big like this flashy bastard. Just put down whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I know,” I say, my heart thumping with anticipation. When I get my cards, I pick them up and hold them close so that Jay can’t see, annoyed with him for slagging me off about my small bet.

I doesn’t matter anyway, because I end up losing.

We play two more games, with me only putting down ten euros each time. I lose once and win once. The win gives me the confidence to go bigger, so I bet fifty euros this time. Two of the businessmen from the group Jay had been staring at come over and take seats at the table. I feel a bead of sweat trickle from my temple as I wait to see what the result will be. My original hand contains an ace and an eight of clubs, so I stick with it, my heart fluttering with excitement. I’ve got nineteen altogether. That’s good. Very good. I cross my fingers, hoping Jessie has lower than that, or something over twenty-one.

When she reveals she’s only got fifteen, I practically jump off my seat with glee. I won! I just won fifty euros. Wow! I’m so elated that I throw my arms around Jay’s shoulders and give him a big hug. I’m tipsy, but I still notice how good his body feels all pressed up against mine. He hugs me back, his warm hand at the base of my spine for a moment. Then I pull away.

“This calls for a celebratory drink,” I say happily.

“Yeah,” Jay replies, giving me a tender smile.

From the other side of the table, I hear the businessmen chuckling while one of them jokes, “Christ, if she’s that excited for fifty euros, I’ll give her a hundred for a blowjob.”

Ugh. What a sleazebag. Unfortunately, Jay heard him say it, too. He gets up from his seat, his happy transforming into pissed in a heartbeat.

“The fuck did you just say?” he asks as he steps over to the two men.

The one who said it is too drunk to realise he should be scared. He gives Jay a dirty look. “I said,” he enunciates, “I’ll give her a hundred for a blowjob. Those lips would be so worth it.”

His friend is in hysterics now, and I go to Jay, placing a hand on his elbow. “Leave it. They’re just arseholes.”

“Yeah, Jay,” Jessie adds in a serious voice. “Leave it.”

We might as well be invisible, though, because it’s like Jay can’t even hear us. He takes another step toward the guy who’d mouthed off, staring down at him furiously. “Apologise now.”

The guy makes an unattractive snort. “Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you,” says Jay before shoving him in the shoulder. Outraged, the man loosens his tie and rises from his seat.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” he spits, then looks to Jessie. “You work here — shouldn’t you be calling security?”

“I should be,” she answers with a raised eyebrow. “I’m thinking I’ll give it another minute, though.”

“This is ridiculous. This piece of shit just attacked me. I’ll be having words with your manager.”

“You go right ahead.”

Jay gets up in the man’s face, and his friend tries to calm him down. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh, yeah? ’Cause this fuck seems to be asking for it.”

“Christ, I’m sorry if I made some joke about your slut over there. I was only having a laugh.”

“Okay, let’s see how funny you find this,” says Jay before landing a punch to his jaw and then an uppercut to his ribs. The man stumbles back into his seat, clutching his jaw in his hand, a look of shock on his face. I don’t think he believed Jay was actually going to hit him. Even I didn’t really believe it until it was happening.

Seconds later the bouncer from earlier is on Jay, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away from the businessmen. Jay easily slips out of the bouncer’s hold, side-stepping toward me.

“Sorry to abandon you so soon, Jess, but it seems I’ve outstayed my welcome.” He salutes her with a grin.

“No problem,” says Jessie, and then Jay grabs my hand in his.

“Come on, Watson. I think it’s time to vamoose.”

He yanks me off my stool, still dodging the bouncer, who’s advancing on us and shouting at Jay that he’s barred. Hand in hand, we run out of the casino and halfway down the street before I have to stop. Running and heels do not go together.

Out of breath, I clutch my chest before bursting into a fit of giggles. I don’t know why I’m laughing. I think it might be delayed shock or something. Jay stands in front of me and starts laughing, too.

It takes a while for us to calm down. When we finally do, Jay steps out to the side of the road and flags down a taxi. It’s only when we’re both seated in the back that I finally have enough breath to speak.

I can’t believe you punched that man. That was just crazy. I seriously didn’t think you’d actually do it,” I say, my breathing still heavy. The taxi driver perks his ears up to listen. I don’t think I’ve experienced this much excitement since Dad sprang a surprise trip to Disneyland Paris on me for my eleventh birthday.

Jay turns to me in his seat and reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. He’s looking at me intensely, emotions in his eyes that I don’t understand. “I can’t let assholes get away with talking to you like that. No way. You’re too good for that shit.”

His words make me shiver. And I hate to admit it, but some deep inner part of me loves the fact that he’d defend my honour when he hardly even knows me. Does he feel something for me like I do for him? Some small attraction? He takes my hand then and holds it in his, his fingers laced through mine. His thumb rubs along the veins on the inside of my wrist and I stare out the window, savouring the simple feeling of his skin on my skin.