by Mary Whitney
“And they let them in because they have money?”
“Exactly.”
“Yet you wore a suit,” she said approvingly.
I tugged at the cuffs of my dark dress suit. “You need to be prepared to be lucky.”
She gave me her dazzling smile. “With that accent…the suit…in a place like this, you do seem sort of Bond-like. You even look like a younger Daniel Craig.”
A compliment such as that was a promising sign. I grazed her bare arm with my fingertips for the briefest moment. “Well gorgeous, that makes you my Bond girl then.”
Her eyes had drifted down to where I had just touched her, and she raised them again, looking a bit surprised. “Oh, I don’t think so. I doubt I’ll bring you any luck.”
“Don’t matter at all. A Bond girl may be beautiful, but she’s not necessarily good luck. Half of them are communist spies out to shoot his knob off.”
She patted her handbag. “Now where is that gun of mine?”
“Who knew Greystone had any communists working there?” I laughed and pointed to the back. “Let’s go meet my friends. I see I need to keep moving or my life is in danger.”
A wicked glint appeared in her eye. “Not your entire life is in danger. Just part of it, or are you going to say that part of you is your whole life?”
Steering her toward the back of the room, I laughed. “Maybe not my whole life, but a very big part of it.” I arched a brow and added, “Very big.”
“You did not just say that, did you?”
“I did, and I won’t take it back.”
She grinned. “You are terrible. Just terrible.”
“Good. You’ll remember me then.” I continued to lead her to lead her through the casino. “We’re all playing poker. Do you want to join our table or just watch?”
“I think I’ll watch for now.”
As we made our way toward the poker tables, I briefed her on Lewis and his boys. I made a point of mentioning that Lewis knew Trey. She gave me a half smile. “I mentioned to Trey that I was going gambling tonight. I’ll have to tell him who I met.”
Of course, the question that begged to be asked was if she’d told Trey she was out gambling with me. I wasn’t going to ask it, though. Nothing would be had by putting her on the spot.
When we arrived at the table, Lewis and the boys were all lovely to her and made her feel at ease. I pulled a stool over so she could sit by me. Thankfully, she knew enough about a casino not to comment on the game as we played. The whole table did chat throughout though. She waited until we had a break in play to whisper in my ear, “Why are you letting them win?”
I looked straight ahead both to hide our conversation and to make her continue whispering in my ear. In a low voice, I replied, “The lady knows something about cards.”
“A little.” She leaned in a little closer. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I kept my voice flat. “I’m happy to lose here if I win elsewhere.”
“Ah,” she said. “I get it. You’re in the middle of a deal with them.”
I nodded and gestured over to a table of strangers. “If I was at that table, I’d be playing a different game.”
“Gotcha.”
It only took an hour or so for Lewis and his mates to win just short of a thousand pounds off me. Without looking at Allison, Lewis played with my chips now sitting before him and said, “I think David you must be distracted tonight.”
“Possibly,” I answered. I gave him a side-eye glance as a warning not to make jokes about Allison. “Maybe we should move on to blackjack.”
Lewis caught my eye and understood. He turned to Zhan and Joseph. “This is where I leave, and I suggest you do, too. We’ll never beat him at blackjack.”
Zhan shook his head. “I don’t even want to try.”
“Me either. I’m fine quitting while I’m ahead,” said Joseph, scooping up his chips.
As I said goodbye to Joseph and Zhan, I could hear Lewis speak as he shook Allison’s hand a final time. “It was wonderful to meet you, Allison. Please tell Trey hello for me when you see him again.”
“It was nice meeting you as well. I’ll definitely mention you to Trey.” Oh how I wished I could’ve seen her face.
After a few more minutes of goodbyes, Lewis left with his lads, but not before calling over his shoulder, “Good luck, you two.”
Allison gave me a sheepish half smile, so I elbowed her in the arm and said, “So Lady Luck, are you up for blackjack?”
“I guess so, but I don’t know that much about it—just that you’re trying to hit twenty-one.”
“That’s the gist, but it gets more complicated at a casino.”
“All right then. Teach me.”
“I’d be honored,” I said, showing her the way to an empty seat at a blackjack table.
Allison again sat at my side and watched closely as I played, usually nodding in understanding of the play at the table. At one point, though, I drew an eleven, and her eyes widened as I doubled my bet to something near five hundred pounds. She looked genuinely alarmed. Luckily, I won the hand.
When the dealer took a short break, Allison and I could talk. She was still incredulous. “Why did you double your bet? There was no reason to.”
“There was every reason to. You always double down on eleven.”
“But why? That seems like an arbitrary rule.”
“Statistically, you’re more likely to win than not when you start with eleven.” I pointed to my chips. “And look. I won.”
“You did, but I didn’t have a good feeling about it.”
I played with the chips, hoping to look casual as I asked a loaded question. “And do you usually do as your feelings dictate or do you play by the rules?”
When I met her eyes, they’d widened, and she took a breath before saying, “I follow the rules. They’re there to protect you, aren’t they?”
“Supposedly.” I turned and stacked my chips, leaving it at that.
A half hour later, I drew another eleven. But this time, just as I was about to signal to the dealer I was doubling down, she touched my arm and shook her head. I looked at her like she was crazy. Hadn’t we already been through this once? I whispered, “I thought you went by the rules.”
“Not this time. I don’t think you should.”
She gave me an apologetic smile, and I looked at the cards of everyone playing, including the dealer. Though the odds were that if I didn’t double down, I’d miss an opportunity, yet I wondered if she might be right. Maybe there was a card lurking out there to ruin my game. I signaled to the dealer that I’d be staying with my current bet and turned back to Allison. “Feel better?”
“Much.”
And she was right. This time the dealer was sitting on an ace while I got dealt a bunch of crap. After the hand was over, I decided it was time to act. I only had one night left in Singapore, and if I wanted it to be with her, I’d need to move quickly. I touched her arm. “How about we get a drink to celebrate your intuition?”
“Okay.” She smiled. “You haven’t had a drink all night, have you?”
“Not when I gamble. I’m working.”
When we got to the bar, I asked, “So what shall we drink?”
“I’ll have a martini.”
“I’ll have one as well.”
“So Mr. Bond, do you like your martinis shaken not stirred?” she asked, hopping up on a barstool.
“You know I’ve never understood that line. Who the fuck stirs their martinis?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good point.” She laughed. After the bartender took our drink orders, she looked up at me, “I’m going to say this because it’s true. I’m not blowing smoke. You really were a little like James Bond at the table.”
I grinned. “How so? Because I had a beautiful bird at my side?”
“No. Just what I said before. The accent, the suit, playing cards…” Her smile turned shy, and she swiveled on the stool. “I think the word is dashing
.”
“Well, thank you, but that’s not really a word that applies to me.” She had no idea how much I appreciated the compliment. Our drinks had only just arrived, though, so the time wasn’t right to get to serious. I held up my glass. “To Lady Luck, which you seem to be for me.”
She clinked her glass to mine. “I’ll toast to luck, but I don’t think that’s a good name for me.”
“As a Bond girl, you do need a name.”
“Oh, God. Not one of those.”
“Let’s see. Which is your favorite?”
“I’m not going to play this game.”
“Why ever not?”
She poked her finger at my chest. “You just want me to say the names because they’re dirty.”
“Not true. I was just making conversation.” I took a sip and smiled. “And I wouldn’t say they’re dirty, just a tad naughty. So what’s your favorite name? Pussy Galore or Honey Ryder?”
“I’m not going to answer that.” She was playfully smug.
“I’ve always been partial to Plenty O’Toole.”
“What movie was she in?”
“Diamonds Are Forever.”
“Am I missing something? Plenty O’Toole doesn’t sound sexual to me.”
“O’Toole?”
“Like Peter O’Toole?” She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
“Ah, I suppose tool is a British word.”
“For what?” She held up her hand. “Stop. You don’t have to tell me. I figured it out.”
“Such a clever girl.”
“It wasn’t that difficult.”
“I’m so happy to have expanded your vocabulary, love. Now which do you prefer? Pussy Galore or Plenty O’Toole?”
The twinkle was in her eye, but she kept mum with her lips pressed together. I chuckled. “It’s all right, love. There’s no wrong answer.”
“Do you torment every woman you meet like this? I know you can’t at work or you’d have sexual harassment issues right and left.”
“Of course not.” I leaned in closer to her, so close that I could see that the green of her dress was just a shade darker than her eyes and not nearly as pretty. “Haven’t I made it clear yet that I find you exceptional?”
My smile was long gone, and hers faded fast. As I studied the lips I’d thought about kissing for days, her mouth twitched. After a moment, she spoke in a tone that was dead cold. “Exceptional because you’re in the middle of a deal with my boyfriend?”
“Absolutely not.” My voice became as serious as hers. “It’s an unfortunate problem I’d rather not have, rather than some great challenge.”
She was stone silent, but her eyes softened. I took that as an invitation. Now only a few inches away from her lips, I said, “You could’ve pushed me away long ago. There has to be a reason why you’ve let me carry on, why you’re here with me right now. Do you want to be here?”
Only breath came from her lips as I waited for her answer. Then in a whisper that sounded like a realization, she said, “I do.”
There was one proper response to that. I moved in for a kiss, and just as I was about to place my lips on hers, she gasped, “But I can’t.”
I was still registering what she’d said when I felt her hand on my chest, pushing me away. She turned her head from me and hopped off the stool. Then I last things I heard from my Allison were the swish of a skirt and a panicked, “I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
It wasn't the first time. I’d been rejected by women before. No one could win them all, but this was the first time a rejection felt like I’d lost—not lost like she was a prize I didn’t get, but lost like something I’d cherished was no longer mine.
After she left me at the bar, I paid the tab, cashed in my chips, and walked back to my hotel. There was no need to take a cab. I wasn’t in a hurry, and I didn’t want to risk unwanted conversation with a cabbie. I was in too heated of a debate with myself to talk with anyone else. Should I call her? Should I not? If I call her, what should I say? Should I apologize?
I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of Singapore the next day. I hoped that distance and passing time would rid me of her, and a few days later, life was doing that for me. Enough work, beer, and football could numb any wound. Then my cousin called, and the bastard just dragged me through the mud again.
“Last time I saw you, you were admiring that redhead? Did anything come of that?”
Adam was younger than me by a couple of years, and all my life I’d given him advice about girls. It was true that if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be with his lovely wife today. Now what was up was down, and what was down was up. Life had gone all pear-shaped, and I needed to ask Adam what to do. I sighed, “I’ll tell you the whole sodding story.”
I really didn’t tell him the entire story, not the way two women can dissect every bit of conversation one of them has with a man. I only gave Adam enough information so he could see what I was dealing with. He was quiet until I finished, and simply said, “Blimey. You’ve taken a real fancy to her.”
“I don’t think I’d go that far…”
“Bollocks. You just spent more time talking about this Allison than you usually spend on all the women you’ve shagged in an entire year. I’d say you’ve taken a shine to her.”
“No, I haven’t. I just don’t like how things ended.”
“Because you didn’t get laid?”
“No!” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “Because I don’t want her thinking that I was only spending time with her for sex.”
“You realize what you just said only reinforces my initial assumption that you care for her.”
I took the phone away from my ear and silently yelled at it. Adam always had been smarter than me, and I didn’t like being reminded. When I put the phone back to my ear, I was calmer. “Yes, if what you’re saying is I’m genuinely interested in her, then I am. So what should I do? Should I call her?”
“No. Not that.”
“Why? And if not, what then?”
Adam groaned. “I don’t want to sound like a downer, but I can tell you from my time as a journalist that telephones are not the route to a genuine conversation. It needs to be in person.”
“What if she won’t see me?”
“David, I have full confidence in your abilities to convince a woman you only want to talk when you really want something more.”
Thank God I hadn’t lost my mind by the time I strode into the Greystone building in Midtown Manhattan later that month. Business was still my primary purpose as I walked across the lobby’s marble floor with one of Barclay’s brilliant analysts, Declan McCabe. My goal for the day was to move along the deal that my team had been batting around with the Greystone for the last few months. Seeing Allison again was another priority for the day, but because I had no way of knowing if she was even in the office, it might all be for bloody naught. Regardless, I kept telling myself that the day’s success would be determined by the outcome of my business meeting, not anything to do with her.
As Declan and I sat in the swanky conference room waiting for the meeting to begin, he craned his neck, admiring the expansive view of New York City. Though Declan was a fine bloke and we were just passing time, that morning I didn’t have much interest in his take on whether the New York Yankees were to American baseball what Arsenal was to English football. Instead, I wondered what Trey might say or if he knew of my time with Allison in Singapore. We’d had a brief interaction on a group conference call the week before, but he made no mention of it.
The crack of an opening door caused Declan and me to stand and pay attention. In walked Trey, followed by his team—Helen, an analyst who seemed to know everything about everything and rarely talked, and Blake, an analyst who knew nothing about anything and who wouldn’t shut up. I always wondered who was paid more.
Bringing up the rear was Trey’s assistant, Melanie. Her job had to be much different than that of my assistant. Elinor stayed in her own office and kept my work
and life in order. Melanie seemed to serve as Trey’s shadow. She was in every meeting and on every call with him, with an earpiece in her ear while she furiously typed away on her laptop. Looking at her now, I saw she was cute—very cute in fact—and very young.
When Trey walked up to me, he was all cordial smiles with his perfect white teeth and slicked back silver hair. “David!” he said, extending his hand. “Wonderful to see you again. Welcome.”
“Thank you.” I shook his hand. “I hope you’ve been doing well.”
“I have.” He crossed his arms and stood at ease. “And how funny is it that you’re now friends with Allison?”
“Yes, indeed.” I’d already planned my next line just in case he brought her up. “She was kind enough to gamble with Lewis Chan and me.”
“That’s what I heard. She said you let them win.”
“Not really. They didn’t need any help from me.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that at all.” He gave me an unwelcome pat on the back, and his American accent became even more pronounced and grating. “I told Allison that when a guy like you gambles, you know what you’re doing. In the kind of neighborhood you’re from, you were probably gambling before you ever rode a bike.”
And that was when I knew that he understood exactly what I had been up to with his girlfriend. You see, no one from a bad neighborhood ever needs or wants to be told how rotten their neighborhood is. It’s fine for you or your friends from the place to go on about it, but you don’t want to hear one word about it from a wanker toff like Trey. The man was jerking my chain.
I wasn’t going to bloody well confirm for him that I did indeed learn how to play dice before I learned to ride a bike. That said, there was power to be had in playing into someone’s prejudices about you. I turned on the cockney. “Ah, me old man had me playing cards when I was still in short pants.”
“See! That’s what I said.” He was gleeful and patted my back again. “Really though. Thanks for showing her around. I appreciate it. All this travel is new for her.”
“She was fine without me, but it was nice to meet her.” I left it at that. There was business to be done, but I also was going to use the time to figure out my next move. I checked my watch and said, “So shall we get started?”