by L.H. Cosway
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.
Six
As we exit the taxi and go in the front door, we try to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Dad. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s almost midnight. I didn’t manage to win enough money to buy a new sewing machine; however, I did end up with slightly more cash than I started out with, so at least that’s something.
Turning on the hall light, I catch a glimpse of the knuckles on Jay’s right hand and see that they’re a little scraped and reddened from throwing those two punches.
“Come on upstairs, and I’ll get you some antiseptic for that,” I whisper, touching his hand for a second. I slip off my heels and leave them at the bottom of the stairs.
He follows silently behind me, and I wonder if he’s checking out my arse again like last time. I don’t have the courage to turn around and investigate, though.
When we reach the bathroom, I pull a bottle of antiseptic from the shelf and some cotton wool from the cupboard. Jay sits down on the edge of the bathtub, watching me.
“You really shouldn’t have attacked that man,” I say. “I’ve had worse things said to me over the years.”
His eyes darken. “Who’s said worse to you, Matilda?”
I shrug it off. “Almost every time my friend Michelle and I go out, we get crude stuff shouted at us. I think it’s all part and parcel of being around drunk men with no filters.” I pause and amend, “The women can be fairly nasty at times, too.”
“Well, that’s probably because they’re jealous. And the men do it because they misguidedly think it’ll get them laid.”
I laugh softly and pour some antiseptic onto the cotton wool before sitting down beside him and bringing it to his hand. “‘Misguided’ is definitely the right word.”
When the cotton wool meets his knuckles, he hisses and curses, “Motherfucker.”
“You know what? You Boston-Irish swear even more than us Irish-Irish,” I joke.
“Yeah,” says Jay. “I’ve got a dirty mouth, but it’s mostly used for good.”
I glance at him. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel all funny and hot, so I hand him the cotton wool.
“There. You can finish yourself off,” I say, standing up.
I have to resist the urge to face palm when I see the size of his smile. Sometimes I think my brain might just be a gaping hole containing nothing but unconscious innuendo.
“You know what I mean,” I mutter as I open the door to leave.
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Jay calls after me.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Sleep tight.”
I can still hear him chuckling as I close my bedroom door.
The next morning, breakfast is waiting for me again. This time it’s fresh fruit and a croissant. Jay’s nowhere to be seen, but the croissant is still warm, so he must have gone out to get it. Dad’s eating his just as happily as he ate his bacon and eggs yesterday.
“I think it might have been the best decision I ever made, taking in a lodger. He has us eating like kings every morning.”
“Yeah, let’s see if you’re still saying that when you gain ten pounds,” I reply, and take a bite of the deliciously fresh pastry.