In Vegas, surrounded by clanging machines and groups of people drinking and cheering.
Yes, a lesser woman might have felt sorry for losing a wild night of gambling and flirting-and a promise from Troy that he’ d stay and help win the pot of money.
She might have even mildly resented the sight of three bodies retreating toward the elevators while she stood there alone, cashing out the money left in her slot machine.
Two quarters made a tinny chink, chink noise as they hit the tray.
The stress of the day caught up with me then, pulling on my body. Sleep. I needed sleep. There was no reason I couldn’ t put off gambling until the morning.
But before I went back to my room, I wandered by the poker area. I needed to connect with someone. Anyone. I was starting to realize how hard this weekend was going to be, and I didn’ t want to face it by myself. And there was Martucci, still sitting at the five-card-stud table. I’ d never been so happy to see him.
‘ Martucci!’
He grunted a greeting toward me, not taking his eyes off his cards.
I stood behind him. ‘ Have you been here all night? How’ s the game going? Are you winning? Is that a good hand you have there?’
One of the other players tittered.
Martucci took a twenty-five-dollar chip from a pile in front of him and handed it to me.
‘ What’ s this?’ I asked.
‘ Go play something.’
‘ Wha-?’
He frowned at me. ‘ Parker, I’ ve got a game going here.’
‘ Fine.’
I stomped away, and upon not seeing Brie ( please, let there not be a sock on the door when I get upstairs), I gave up. It was time to close my eyes and put an end to this day. Cut my losses.
On my way to find the elevators, I passed the roulette table where I’ d lost my money earlier. There was a new dealer, and the bachelorette party was long gone. The only person at the table was the drunk guy, whose wall of chips had dwindled to an anthill.
What the heck. The dealer spun the wheel, and before the ball settled, I set down Martucci’ s chip. Number 11. Marissa’ s birthday. As the ball clattered to find a spot and the dealer waved his hand to indicate no more bets, I remembered, Shit! Her birthday was the twelfth! I’ ve bet the wrong number!
‘ Lucky number eleven!’ the dealer announced.
I’ d won.
Nobody was there to cheer. The drunk guy didn’ t even notice. I’ d never won that kind of money before, yet strangely, I felt nothing. I’ d gotten more excited the time I won a carpool mug in the company raffle.
The dealer slid me 875 dollars in chips without comment.
I’ d been to Vegas often enough to know it wouldn’ t be hard to spend my winnings. I stepped outside the casino, where crowds still bustled even at this late hour. The warm night air cuddled me like a blanket. I’ d barely cleared the casino entrance when I saw a nun in full habit holding a collection can that read, ‘ Fund for Abused Children.’
‘ You a real nun?’ I asked her. There were plenty of scams around here, but then again, there were plenty of genuine charitable organizations glad to take advantage of people who’ d lost all sense of the value of a dollar.
‘ Yes. I’ m with the St. Thomas parish here in town.’
A cop stood a few feet away, which seemed a good sign. Besides, the sooner I unloaded this cash to charity, the sooner I could cross the task off my list and be done with this day. That seemed as good a reason as any to trust her.
I held up my chips. ‘ You take these?’
‘ Absolutely.’
I slid the chips one by one into the collection can.
‘ God blesses you, my child.’
‘ Great. I’ ll take any help I can get.’
Chapter 20
W ith sleeping in and then taking our sweet time having breakfast the next morning, it was one o’ clock before we hit the pool.
‘ Goodness, it’ s a zoo!’ Kitty exclaimed, assessing the scene. To my relief, she was back to her old self-or at least the self who was trying to buck up as best she could.
Calypso music floated through air so thickly hot that you could almost see the waves of sound. We wove through a sea of bodies to a group of lounge chairs next to the pool. Brie had reserved them before she’ d stumbled in our room at eight a.m., waking me long enough to tell me that I’ d missed quite the party at the Hard Rock.
After a general jockeying for chairs, I wound up between Martucci and Kitty. Troy was on the other side of his mom, with Brie at the very end of our row. Gran had opted to take a nap in the hotel room rather than lie outside getting sunspots and risking heart failure in the heat-a choice we heartily supported.
Brie immediately collapsed facedown. ‘ Wake me in an hour. I’ ll need to turn over.’
I stripped to my swimsuit and was bending over to rifle through my bag for my book when Martucci gave me a hard slap on the butt.
‘ Hey!’ I protested.
‘ This, people, is the result of expert coaching!’ he boasted loudly. ‘ This body is entirely my creation.’
Before I could clock Martucci one, Kitty remarked, ‘ God may have had a little to do with it.’
