“Absolutely.” I glance to my right, Aaron is gazing down at me, a kind smile on his lips, though with a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“Hayley, babe, I love you, but I don’t ever want to hear you put yourself down again, if I do, so help me God I’ll slap you,” she warns with a wink.
“Okay.” I smile.
Gwen sighs and picks up a menu. “Shall we order, I’m starved?”
“Me too.”
∞∞∞
“Hey,” I call, as I shut the front door after Gwen drops me home.
I enter the living room where I find my dad getting ready for the casino tonight, just finishing buttoning up his light blue shirt.
“Hi sweetheart. Gwen and Aaron alright?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. Though Gwen got fired, again.”
He chuckles. “What for this time?”
“She kissed her boss, unbeknown to her, her very gay boss.”
“Oh, Gwen, that girl has a lot to learn.” He shakes his head.
“That she does,” I agree. “Dad, is it really necessary that I come with you tonight?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The past few times you’ve been, you’ve gone without me, why do you want me to come with you now?”
A couple of months back I found out my dad was a member at some casino in the city. I tried telling him that he was wasting his time, that casinos don’t actually want to give you money, they only take it. For some reason he’s dragging me along with him this time as it’s free entry for plus-ones.
“Because you’re my lucky charm and I need you.” He grips the tops of my arms. “Hayley, we’re going to get lucky tonight, I can feel it. Tonight is where our lives change and our problems are a distant memory.” He kisses the top of my head before brushing past me, disappearing into the kitchen.
I let out a deep sigh, before heading upstairs to shower and get changed.
I hope my dad is right in me being his lucky charm, we could use a little luck right now.
Chapter 2
Hayley
We walk through the grand entrance of The Royal Hotel and Casino, a tall, majestic skyscraper that towers above New York City.
We hand the man at the door our IDs, he looks between me and the photo on my driver’s licence and nods. He looks to my dad and does the same.
“Nice to see you again, Sir,” the man on the door says to my dad, offering a pleasant smile and a curt nod.
“Thank you,” my dad replies.
I eye my dad, my brow raised. “Just how many times have you been here?” I smirk.
He offers me a tense smile before he leads me away and further into the casino.
It is huge. I don’t know what I was expecting to find exactly, but not anything like this. I’ve seen casinos in movies, but The Royal seems grander, more regal. Huge pillars run from the floor to the ceiling where beautiful glass chandeliers hang. The ambient lighting from the wall lamps gives off a warm and moody atmosphere, almost seductive.
The entire ground floor is full of blackjack tables and roulette wheels. Running from the left wall and across most of the back of the casino are rows of slot machines, on the opposite side, are a small cluster of shops and a bar. A grand staircase covered in red carpet runs up the center of the room leading to what looks like poker tables on the first floor. The room is packed with people, the sounds of laughter echoing around the hall.
From what I can see, there are two types of people, each group is easy to distinguish.
The first group of people, the smaller group, are like me and my dad, dressed smart casual, dressing up a pair of jeans with a blazer, or a dress with a pair of heels. The other much larger group look like they just stepped out of a James Bond movie, dressed immaculately from head to toe in tuxedos and floor length evening gowns of every colour, they look beautiful.
I look down at my outfit, a simple baby pink dress that ends just below my knees, a cardigan, the only one I could find in my wardrobe that would look classy enough for a place like this, and plain slip on shoes, the smartest and least worn I could find.
I feel monumentally underdressed.
I never cared much for material objects, like a shiny new pair of designer shoes or a Louis Vuitton handbag, but in places like this, surrounded by a sea of people whose outfits probably cost more money than I make in half a year, it makes me feel... uncomfortable, unworthy, somehow.
“Let's try the slot machines,” my dad suggests as he starts to steer me toward them.
He seems far too optimistic about this whole situation, everyone knows a casino is there to take your money, not give you more.
I knew coming here was a bad idea, but when my dad sets his mind on something, there is no changing it, it would be pointless to argue.
“While you do that, I’m going to go look around.” Not that I’m even remotely interested in taking a look around, I just can’t stomach watching my father throw our hard-earned money down the drain. Money that we desperately need to pay off our debts.
“Sure, see you later.” Just as I begin to walk away, I hear, “Hey, you going to wish your dad good luck or what?”
“Good luck!” I reply, with all the enthusiasm I can muster.
I weave my way through the crowds of people. Laughter and sounds of conversation fill the room, the stench of men's cheap cologne lingers in the air, burning my nose.
I come to a stop in front of the small group of stores that line one side of the room. One in particular catches my eye, through the window I can see mannequins outfitted in the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen.
I walk up to the door and pull it open. Quiet music fills the
