Risk

by Raquel Belle

  Before David is back in his seat, Terry shows up—he’s in his stock-standard black suit and red tie. There’s a waitress trailing him. “I apologize for my tardiness, something came up,” he says, then directs the waitress to deposit her tray on the table. “I believe congratulations are in order?”

  Terry sits next to Jack, opposite Charlotte, and begins handing out mimosas.

  Lilly quickly turns to the waitress and says, “Can I get just a juice? I…uh…”

  Charlotte says, “It’s your birthday, you’re not going to work. What? Are you pregnant or something?”

  Jack and I burst out laughing.

  “Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot,” Lilly says, nodding with a smile. Charlotte turns redder than her hair.

  David didn’t know. He’s stunned. He’s just looking at her. She turns to him with a half-smile.

  “Really?” he says.

  “Yeah.”

  He holds her face and gives her one of the most serious kisses you’ll ever see in America.

  “Guys, get a room,” Charlotte says.

  “How do you think this happened in the first place!” I start laughing so hard I think my abs are going to split.

  David and Lilly pull apart and both look a teensy bit embarrassed, but not too much.

  The waitress comes back with a juice for Lilly and as soon as she sets it down, Terry raises his glass. “A toast,” he says, “to a new union,” he gestures to Jack and me, “and to the culmination of one,” he gestures to Lilly and David, “these Madison sisters sure are a handful,” he laughs, “it’s good thing they found the two men best suited for them.”

  “CHEERS!”

  What Terry said makes me think about what Jack told me when he was in the hospital. I start crying. I creep onto his lap and bury my face in his neck. He doesn’t ask why, he knows.

  He holds me tight.

  When he woke up after all that surgery putting him back together, he told me that he didn’t remember getting to the hospital at all. He just followed my voice like a dream. He said that if it was anyone else he wouldn’t have moved…he thought he was finished and he was ready to let go.

  Then he heard my voice and it made him want to fight. To live. To love. To be together.

  He told me that my love saved him.

  I’m crying a lot now, but they’re happy tears.

  I kiss him and he kisses me back.

  Deanna isn’t a tumbleweed anymore. I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.

  True love does exist. Love at first sight exists. Two people meant to be…it exists.

  We’re here…and we’re proof of it.

  And they lived happily ever after.

  THE END.

  An excerpt from “The Gambler”

  We hope you enjoyed “Risk” as much as we enjoyed working on it!

  Now, if you’re wondering just how David and Lilly got together before the events of this book, then you’re definitely going to want to read “The Gambler.”

  You can find it on Amazon by tapping the following link:

  The Gambler

  Here are the first three chapters:

  Chapter One

  Lilly

  Ka-ching. If there's one sound that sums up Las Vegas, that's it. It's a Friday night in Fortuna, one of the city's most famous hotels and casinos. I’m engulfed in an exciting frenzy of flashing lights, jangling slot machines, and crowds of people. It’s bright. It’s loud. And it’s a little bit crazy. I watch an overweight Elvis impersonator go by in a skintight white jumpsuit, hand-in-hand with a busty Marilyn Monroe. I choke on my vodka-cranberry and cough furiously. Okay, it’s a lot crazy.

  “All good?” Deanna turns away briefly from the slot machine she’s playing to clap me on the back—hard. Her hazel eyes, shoulder-length brunette hair, and heart-shaped face mirror my own. My twin sister even shares my sprinkling of light freckles across the nose and cheeks.

  I nod, blinking back tears. She cocks an eyebrow and gives me a grin before turning back to the slot machine. She jabs at the multi-colored screen in front of her. It beeps and whirrs, playing a melody while the five boxes on the screen rapidly zip through a series of cartoon images. A king’s crown. A small pile of gold. A treasure chest. A four-leafed clover... The whirring slows. I watch as Deanna anxiously chews on her lip. In one hand, she’s got a rum and coke, in the other she holds a cigarette that is dangerously in need of an ashtray.

  “Uh, Deanna, your cigarette.” I nudge her.

  “YES!” She shrieks and pumps her fist in the air, sending a sprinkling of ash down onto the carpeted floor. The screen in front of her is blinking furiously, with colored lights illuminating her face. The whirring has stopped and the screen now displays three identical images of a king’s crown. Jackpot. My heart thumps. Ka-ching. I’m not a gambler but even I can’t suppress the adrenaline rush that the moment brings.

  “Lilly, you are my lucky charm!” Deanna gives me a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “I knew this was the perfect way to celebrate our 25th birthday.”

  “You are having a good run,” I acknowledge cautiously. I don’t want to encourage Deanna too much. We’ve been playing the slots for only an hour and she’s already on her third drink.

  “Deanna, you crazy bitch! You hit another jackpot?!” Brian saunters over, cool and calm in comparison to Deanna’s frantic excitement. He looks like a celebrity, with his slight scruff, lean build, leather jacket, and sunglasses that never come off. Actually, he looks like the lead singer in a band. Like somebody whose picture I would have stuck on my wall as a teenager.

  “Yeah, you’re seriously on a roll!” Stacy—another one of Deanna’s Las Vegas friends—chirps. She unselfconsciously adjusts her tube top as she peers at Deanna’s screen. The scrap of fabric barely contains her voluminous breasts. She’s paired it with jean-shorts and platform heels, showing off her curves from top to bottom.

  “Uh, Stacy, I think you’re about to have a wardrobe malfunction,” I feel compelled to point out. Las Vegas casinos seem to be pretty relaxed when it comes to the dress code but I’m not sure if Stacy flashing a nipple is a good idea. One of the security guys on the floor has circled a few times already, casting a keen eye at our small but rambunctious group.

  “Oh, thanks doll.” She tugs the top up ever so slightly while giving me a wink. The blue glitter on her eyelids matches the glitter on her top. “Deanna, why didn’t you tell us your sister was such a sweetheart?”

  “She’s the best,” Deanna says emphatically. Her eyes don’t leave the screen of the slot machine.

  “There’s no point telling Stacy her tits are about to bust out,” Brian drawls casually as he slowly reaches for the cigarette behind his ear and lights it. His eyes bore into mine as he says, “She loves it when guys stare at them.”

  “Well, I paid enough for them!” Stacy replies with a giggle.

  “Please, Stacy, we all know that you didn’t pay for them,” Blaire, the last fixture in Deanna’s crew cuts in. She’s playing the slot machine next to Deanna’s, likewise concentrated on her screen and largely oblivious to the rest of the world. Clad in a short black skirt, sky-high black stilettos and slinky black halter-top, her outfit is no less head-turning than Stacy’s. The miniskirt seems to be this town’s unofficial uniform.

  “Fine, fine, they were technically a gift from Oliver.”

  “Is that your boyfriend?” I ask.

  “Ha! He’s Stacy’s sugar daddy,” Blair says with an eye roll.

  “I still can’t believe you let that old fart pay for your boob job,” Deanna remarks, taking another swig and draining her glass.

  Stacy protests with a giggle and a shimmy, “As a dancer, it was a solid business investment! My tips have doubled since I got these,” her boobs barely move despite the motion. I’d never seen fake breasts up close and personal until I came to Vegas. I’d never seen a lot of things until I came to Las Vegas. And I’ve only been here for about 12 hours.

  Deanna, my alway
s-cooler sister, has been living here for about a year and already she knows her way around the Strip—the four-mile long stretch of South Las Vegas Boulevard where the premium hotels and casinos are concentrated. She’s got a job as a bartender and shares an apartment with Stacy and Blair—who also work in the nightlife scene.

  Stacy is a mere 5’4, but with an eye-popping hourglass shape and bottle-blonde hair that ensures she stands out in any room. Blair is no less of a showstopper, with her waist-length straight black hair, caramel skin, and piercing almond-shaped eyes that stop men in their tracks. She works as a bottle girl at one of the big Vegas clubs. From what I gather, the job is basically twenty-percent carrying bottles, and eighty-percent partying with the rich guys who order the bottles to the VIP tables.

  The fact that my sister Deanna not only knows people like this but is actually one of them is still mind-blowing to me. She fits right into their group…in her short red dress and matching heels. Her hair is loose and wild, while mine is pulled back into a low-slung ponytail. It’s one of the only ways to tell us apart physically. That, plus the fact that she’s got a piercing—a lone silver sparkle in her right nostril. And a tattoo—a tiny rose on the inside of her right wrist. These are additions she’s made since she left our hometown nine years ago.

  The only one out of place here is me, the visitor. The summer dress I have on seemed fun and flirty when I tried it on at home. The ruffle at the hem just grazes my knees and the V-neck shows the tiniest hint of cleavage. But compared to the Vegas crowd, I look like I’m straight out of “Little House on the Prairie.” I would never have the guts to dress like these girls. I just don’t have the figure for it. Or the attitude. I guess that’s where my sister and I are different.

  “Come on, let’s go back to the roulette tables,” Brian nudges Deanna. “You’re on a streak. Put it to good use.” He motions towards the middle of the room. The slots are lined along the side. In the center are the tables for blackjack, roulette, and other games I’ve never even heard of. Each table is manned by a smartly dressed dealer in a crisp white shirt and black bowtie. Marble floors encircle the carpeted island of tables in the center, creating a road that scantily clad cocktail waitresses and shooter girls click along as they pass trays, take orders, and clear glasses.

  “Fine, fine. Let me just call over an attendant so I can get my payday!” Deanna furiously jabs at the “attendant” button on the screen. Almost immediately, a casino employee appears by her side.

  “Yeah, let’s make some real money,” Blair agrees. “Then we can get a VIP table later at Lush Club.”

  “Or Marquis!” Stacy chimes in. “I want to go dancing!” She tosses her head back and shakes her butt to an imaginary beat.

  “Ladies, come on, I can get us a VIP at those clubs anytime,” Brian says, smoothly, his icy blue eyes gleaming. “I know all the big club owners,” he explains, locking eyes with me.

  “That’s cool. Are you also in the club business? Like the girls?” I ask.

  “You could say that,” he responds.

  I wonder why Stacy and Blair are smirking in response to this answer. But before I can ask, Deanna links her arm in mine and pulls me away, dragging me across the marble floor and making a beeline for the tables in the room’s center. Today has been like an amusement park ride!

  “Let’s roll!” She calls over her shoulder to her three friends. “Roulette it is!” She pounds her empty glass down onto the tray of a passing cocktail waitress, one of the many circulating the floor. The harried young woman almost drops the entire tray because Deanna slams her drink onto it with so much force.

  “Careful!” I can’t help but say, feeling like the mom of the group. “You almost took the whole tray down.”

  “No worries, Lilly. It’s part of her job. But wait…” She jerks to a stop and hurries after the cocktail waitress, dragging me with her since our arms are still linked. “Here.” She shoves a black chip—part of the day’s earlier winnings on the floor—into the girl’s face. The chip is emblazoned with a giant cursive F, the Fortuna Casino logo

  “Thanks!” The girl, who barely looks old enough to drink herself, let alone serve drinks, quickly pockets the chip.

  Blair’s voice comes from behind us as the others walk up. “What the fuck, Deanna, did you just tip that random cocktail waitress a hundred bucks?”

  “Ah, we’ve got loads more!” Deanna shrugs. “Plus, I’m about to double my winnings at roulette. Trust me.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. Deanna is generous. She even paid for my ticket out here, insisting that we celebrate our birthday in style. But she’s also reckless, she’s always been that way. Those two traits can lead to trouble, especially when she’s in the mood to party.

  “She’ll be fine!” Stacy squeals. “You need to loosen up, Lilly! It’s your first night in Vegas. Let’s get shots!”

  “No, I’m—”

  “Yes! Shots! Shots! Shots!” Blair breaks in, any concern as to Deanna’s throwing a $100 chip at the cocktail waitress quickly forgotten.

  “One step ahead of you, ladies.” Brian has already managed to flag down a shooter girl carrying a huge tray and is thrusting some money in her hand. Vegas really is sin city. Every temptation you could possibly wish for seems to be within arm’s reach.

  He grabs a shot and raises the glass. I hesitantly take a pink-hued shot, thinking that it looks more fruity and probably less dangerous than the others. I’m not sure whether it’s the booze or the general ambience, but my head is already buzzing.

  “To our birthday babes!” Brian says, very casually, as if everything he experiences happens to him every day. I guess it does.

  “Deanna and Lilly!” Stacy echoes him, sloshing her shot glass against mine as she gives me a squeeze.

  “Cheers, girls!” Blair adds with a grin.

  “Thank you so much,” I look at their excited faces with a smile. Deanna’s friends might be a little wild but they seem nice. Like her. I just arrived this morning and they’ve been nothing but welcoming. Stacy and Blair even accompanied Deanna to the airport to pick me up. I mean, Deanna couldn’t have driven to get me anyway. Apparently she lost her license because of a DUI a few months back, a secret that loose-lipped Stacy let slip while we were getting ready for our night out. But still. It was sweet of the girls to go through the trouble.

  “I still can’t get over how alike you two are.” Brian pauses after the shot, quietly analyzing my face and then Deanna’s.

  “I told you she’s my identical twin! What did you expect?” Deana says. “Come on. Roulette awaits!” She dashes quickly ahead to the nearest table, the rest of us trotting after her. By the time we catch up, she’s already placed a hefty bet and won.

  Her victory shriek pierces the hubbub of murmuring voices and faint background music. It’s barely subsided before yet another smartly clad cocktail waitress appears behind us, a tray of glasses in hand.

  “Complimentary champagne for the winning lady and her friends?” The girl asks, an inviting smile dancing across her lips.

  “Don’t mind if I do!” Deanna grabs a glass and her friends likewise eagerly reach for theirs. Not wanting to be the odd woman out, I also take a glass but resolve to just take a sip or two. That innocent looking pink shot wasn’t so innocent after all—I realize—because an unusually warm feeling has settled over me.

  “That’s nice of them,” I murmur to Stacy as we stand back and watch Deanna, who is bent over the table, concentrating fiercely.

  “What, the free booze? I guess.” Stacy smacks her gum and smiles. I don’t know how she’s managed to chew it the entire night without swallowing it by mistake. It probably takes a lot of practice to have shots with gum in your mouth!

  “They’re just buttering us up,” Blair cuts in. When I don’t say anything, she responds to my confused look, “Casino managers send over drinks to winners. They want them to get sloppy.”

  “Like, drunk?”

  “Sure. A sl
oppy drunk means a sloppy player. Which means the house can win back some money.”

  What looked like a generous gesture just mere seconds ago now seems cruel and tainted with some kind of cutthroat ill will.

  “Yes!” Deanna’s shout interrupts my foreboding thoughts.

  “Black eighteen it is.” The dealer’s even, measured voice confirms another win for Deanna.

  “Two-hundred-fucking-thousand dollars.” Deanna rakes the chips towards her.

  That’s a lot of money. “Deanna, what about taking a break.” I put a hand hesitantly on her shoulder and she turns ever so slightly towards me, her eyes blazing with excitement. “You have plenty already and maybe—”

  “Congratulations again, miss. Champagne?” The cocktail waitress reappears as if from nowhere and deftly steps in front of me.

  “Thanks!” Deanna gives the girl a black chip. “Don’t worry, Lilly,” she adds as an afterthought as she turns back to the table.

  “I’m fine.” I wave the girl off, gesturing to my full glass. I step away from the table, wanting to be free of the crowd. Deanna’s friends cluster around her with their backs to me.

  “Why aren’t ya’ drinking yer drink, girly?” A much older man sidles over and slurs the words at me. He raises his glass to cheers me.

  “I’m not thirsty.” I squeak out the words as I feel my face flush. This is very unexpected.

  “Isss Vegas, babyyy,” the red-faced man goes on. One hand clutches his drink, with the other he strokes his oversized belly, which hangs over the belt of his pants. “Everyone’s thershty in Vegasss.” He leers at me, barely suppressing a belch as he peers at the neckline of my dress. “Thassa nice dress.”

  “Thank you.” I don’t know what to say. I feel awkward and frozen. I cast a desperate look at the roulette table but the others still have their backs turned. From the cheers, I assume Deanna must be doing well.

  “Yer a good girl, ain’t ya? Hmm? Not alotta good girls in this town, lemme tell ya.” The man steps even closer. I see his arm leave his belly and come for me, as if he’s about to encircle my waist. I step back, my pulse racing. But before the man can get closer, a figure steps between us.