He nodded again. “That’s what it means to be born and raised.”
“High school too?”
“Happy to show you my diploma if you need more verification. Lettered in Varsity Football at Desert Hills High on the outskirts of town. Lived there til I moved east for college.”
“And how does one come to live in Vegas?”
“Generally speaking one has parents from there.”
“Clearly. And your parents? What do they do in Vegas?”
“My parents do exactly what you’d expect two people in Vegas to have done. They’re retired now. Mom was a showgirl. Dad owns a small casino off the strip.”
“Wow. That’s just so…” she said, then let her voice trail off.
“So what?”
“Unusual. And surprising,” she said.
“Why is it surprising?”
*****
You have got to be kidding me.
Her heart had raced when he first said Vegas, but she’d reined it in, relying on her well-honed poker face. Because really, what were the chances that he’d hail from the gambling Mecca?
Of all the places he could be from she’d never have thought it would be the one place that had so much in common with her present, and the life of gambling she led. She’d been a card player long before her mandatory attendance at Charlie’s Tuesday night games. She knew her way around a deck of cards since she taught herself to play in high school, and then continued on during college at UCLA, finding late-night games in the dorms, winning handily most of the time, collecting extra money for her expenses, for textbooks and meal plans. Back then, playing had been fun, something she enjoyed. She and her sister had taken many girls trips to Vegas too in their early twenties. McKenna could never back down from a challenge and even though board games and video games were more of her sister’s speed, she was the ideal cheerleader when they’d played the tables late at night at the Bellagio on those trips.
“Just because you hardly meet anyone from Vegas, that’s all I mean,” she said, making light of her comment. She wasn’t going to tell him more. Not even McKenna knew how much Julia played these days, and how desperately she needed to win. Only her hairdresser had an inkling. It was better that way, safer that way for everyone. McKenna had a rough go of things for a while with her douchebag of an ex-fiancé, but now she’d met Chris and was happy beyond measure. Julia wasn’t going to ruin her sister’s happiness by letting her know about the crap she was dealing with. McKenna would only be worried, like a good big sister. But there was nothing McKenna could do about her debt, so there was no reason to let her know. She had to shield her sister from her troubles. If she kept McKenna in the dark, she could better protect her from Charlie’s shadow, and any harm he might do. The same went for Charlie; the less he knew about her family, the better. Chris and McKenna both ran successful, high-profile TV shows; she didn’t want Charlie to get a piece of them. They were precisely the type of meal he enjoyed best – they were flush with green.
“You like Vegas?”
“I do. And I can hold my own at a blackjack table.”
“Yeah?”
“Why? You think women can’t gamble?”
“Why would I think that? Do I look like a sexist pig?”
“No,” she said with a laugh, and held up her hands in surrender. “Do you play?”
He nodded. “I play poker a couple times a month. One of my lawyer buddies has a regular card game going on. A few of my clients play.”
“Do you let them win?”
He laughed, and shook his head. “Never. They’d know if I were letting them win. Besides, they’re A-list actors and producers.”
“Name dropper,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his.
“Did I say their names?” he tossed back. “Anyway, they don’t give a shit how much they win or lose.”
“Nobody likes losing,” she said, trying to keep the sharp edge from her voice. She despised losing because it kept her chained to that man, tied even longer to a debt that wasn’t hers. Nobody could shrug off losing. But then, what did she know? She didn’t have tons to gamble with, so she hated losing even more.
“True, but we all just play for fun. Nothing more, nothing less. Couple guys, smoking cigars, talking shit, and laying down some bets. My second favorite past time,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
She flashed him a naughty grin, but inside a sliver of envy wedged itself in her heart. She wanted to love the game, and part of her still did. But that part was crushed like an old cardboard box by the weight of all that she owed. Charlie had subverted both her skill and her love of poker into something dirty, making her his ringer to take down poker babies. Someday, she’d like to play again for fun. Hell, maybe she could even tolerate losing if she didn’t face the consequences of knives, guns and threats to her livelihood.
“I know what your first favorite past time is,” she said, trailing her finger along his thigh.
“We could combine the two. You’d be nice to play strip poker with,” he added.
“I’d beat you,” she said instantly. She knew she would. Confidence coursed through her.
“I’d have to say in that game with you, I’m winning either way.”
“You’re an interesting man, Clay Nichols,” she said, smiling at him. But smiling inside too. She was enjoying herself so much, and so much more than she had in ages. There was something about him that simply worked extraordinarily well with her. They had chemistry in the bedroom in spades, but they could talk too, and that was almost a magical thing. Rare too. You didn’t often come across someone who captivated your mind and your body.
“Am I?”
“You are, and I want to know more about you. So you have a little brother. Where does he live?”
“Ah, the topic you were saving for dinner. Brent is in Vegas too.”
“Wait. Let me guess.” She flung her hand over her forehead, mimicking a fortune teller. “He’s a magician. He has an act with tigers and disappearing roses.”
He shook his head. “Nope. But you’re close in that he’s on stage. He’s a comedian.”
She shook her head, bemused with his family story. “Your family does all the things you never really think anyone does.”
“And we have Thanksgiving together every year too. Mom makes a turkey, dad carves it, and Brent bakes a pumpkin pie.”