The Sure Thing

by Claire Matthews

  The decision to go with Nick to the casino had surprised her. In fact, she'd spent most of the ten-minute drive to the strip wondering what the hell she was doing. She hadn’t entered a casino in almost three years, which was no small feat for a wedding caterer in Vegas. She'd been to virtually all the hotels and restaurants in the city, of course, but always managed to sidestep the casinos, which was possible if you used the children's entrance. But for Nick, she was willing to put it all on the line. The abstinence, the peace of mind, the stupid plastic chips she got at meetings for one month, six months, a year without gambling. She realized on the drive through town that for him, she didn't want to be the damaged woman, the woman with a past, the woman who was weak. She wanted Nick to see her as good and worthy. So she pasted on a smile and walked through the casino, one foot in front of the other, until they reached the safety of the restaurant.

  Dinner was nice, and even the frat boys were on their best behavior since it was still early and they were still sober. Becca sat between Nick and Katie, ordered some wonderful poached salmon, and noticed the light dusting of dark blond curls on Nick's forearms as he cut his steak. He had a tiny white scar on his lower lip. He'd missed a spot shaving near the edge of his jaw. She wanted to lick the tiny hairs there, feel them bristle against her tongue. She kept forgetting to eat.

  After dinner, she was so high on Nick, laughing and joking, loving the way he looked at her, that she entered the casino feeling calm and happy. She could do this. Her problems were in the past, she had no desire to gamble. She was just having a good time with a beautiful, funny, incredibly sexy man. He was a dentist, for Christ's sake. What harm could come to her?

  They made their way to the table games and Becca sat back with Katie watching the men play blackjack. Nick kept looking at her instead of paying attention to his cards, and as a result he was losing his shirt. She wanted to tell him to quit, but he looked like he was having fun. She had to remember that most people were able to gamble without feeling panicked, and buzzy, and sweaty—they were able to stop when they felt like it, without the gnawing grip of compulsion souring their stomach. She looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty. If she could make it another half-hour, she'd tell Nick it was getting late and she needed to get home. It was okay. She could do this.

  Becca's thoughts were interrupted by a loud, communal whoop of celebration. Nick hit twenty-one after doubling down. He was grinning, his face flushed with excitement. He caught Becca's eye and winked as he cashed out his chips, leaving the table as the others moaned in protest. “I know when to quit, you losers,” he called over his shoulder as he led Becca to the bar in the middle of the floor. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, I'm fine,” Becca said, straining her neck to see how far away they were from the exit. She'd kept her eyes peeled for exit doors all night. It helped calm her nerves.

  “Well, come on, then. I need you to help me double my money.”

  “Oh, no,” Becca said quickly. “I'm not a gambler.”

  “Come on, you're my good luck charm. I've never won in a casino in my life. I can't break my streak now.” He led them to a long row of slot machines, blinking and chirping their calls over the canned country music in the background. Thick clouds of cigarette smoke made Becca's eyes water.

  “Nick, I think I need to go home.” But he was busy trying to insert his cash into the stubborn eight-liner in front of him, and he didn't hear her. Once he finally got the money to go in, he sat on the black stool in front of the machine, and patted his knee. “Come on, I need your help. I've never played one of these things before.”

  “Neither have I.” Her hands began to sweat.

  “Really?” he asked, incredulous. “How long did you say you've lived here? I can't believe you've never gambled.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “What? No, of course not, I just--”

  “I need to go home.” Her head craned towards the exit.

  “Umm, okay...sure.” His words were careful, and they made her angry.

  “Not you, I'll go by myself.”

  “Becca...”

  “No, you should stay here with your friends. I can catch a cab.”

  Nick stood and took a step towards her. She resisted the urge to step back. “Becca, I brought you here, I'll take you home.”

  “No, no, I'm sorry...I'm just tired, and really stressed out about work. I'll go, and you stay here and have fun. I...I had a nice time. Thanks for inviting me.” She was already creeping backwards, her purse tucked tightly under her arm. “I'll see you around. At the wedding for sure. Thanks again...I'll floss tonight, I promise.” She turned then, and felt his wide, confused eyes following her as she hurried to the glass doors by the player’s club desk. I'll floss tonight? Her eyes blurred with unshed tears. So much for coming across as a strong, worthy woman.

  She dove into the first cab she saw and hunched her body in the corner of the backseat. After giving the cabbie her address, she proceeded to cry in earnest, her tears coming in a torrent, as if they might never stop. She tried to analyze where all this emotion was coming from. Was it her fear of being in the casino, the blissful but equally terrifying feelings she was having for Nick, the stress of wondering how the hell was going to pay for this damn cab ride? It was all too much.

  She arrived home at midnight, exhausted and emotionally spent. Noticing a missed call from Katie on her cell, she listened to the message as she pulled a Twinkie from the pantry. It was time for some comfort food. Katie's message was short but frantic.

  “Where are you? Nick is worried. He was afraid he'd done something wrong. Please call.”

  Becca opened her keyboard and sent Katie a quick text, letting her know she'd made it home safely. Her sticky fingers paused over the keys. Finally, she added, Tell Nick thank you, and that he did nothing wrong. I'm sorry. Then she hit send, and fell asleep on the couch.

  Which was where she found herself when the stray dogs came to liberate her trash from its metal prison. She was picking up the last pile of debris with her gloved hands when she saw a familiar car pull up and heard the sharp, quick beep of its horn. It was Gabe, his red Jeep Wrangler blaring top forty hits, shattering the quiet blanketing the block.

  “What the hell are you doing? Did your birth control pills fall in the trash can again?”

  “Shut up and help me, this is disgusting. Oh, and I got you a stray dog for your birthday. You're welcome.”

  Gabe was Becca's best Las Vegas friend. They met when she was still a line chef at Hugo's Cellar, and when she decided to go out on her own as a caterer she hired Gabe as her pastry chef and general right-hand man. Gabe and his partner Logan pretty much adopted Becca after her break-up with Kevin, and she knew that if it weren't for them she'd either be in jail or back in Asheville. She didn't know which prospect was worse, but she would be forever thankful for their friendship.

  “So where were you last night?” Gabe asked as they righted the trashcan and walked back to the apartment. “Logan and I came by to kidnap you, but you were gone. Since when do you go out, especially without your car?”

  “I have a life, you know.” Gabe's eyebrow arched sharply. Look who you're talking to.

  “Where did you go? Tell the truth, or I'll tell everyone you went to that pole-dancing for Jesus class.”

  “If you must know, I was out with a guy. A man.”

  “A man?” Gabe clutched his invisible pearls. “Becca Ellison out with a man? The over-under odds on you being a lesbian just took quite a hit.”

  “Not just a man, a dentist,” she said smugly.

  Gabe raised his face to the sky and laughed. “God, the drill jokes alone will take me up to lunchtime. So what did you and Dr. Dreamy do? He is dreamy, right?”

  “Very much so.”

  “Good, I won't accept less. Did you get lucky? Were you searching for your dignity in that trash can?”

  “No, nothing like that. He's a groomsman in Katie and Jordan's wedd
ing. He's...”

  “Ye-e-e-s-s?”

  Becca grinned. “He's a good kisser.” Gabe's eyebrows shot up an inch. “And funny. And smart. And a pretty good blackjack player, from what I could tell.” Becca turned to the kitchen and washed her hands as she let that little nugget of information sink in.

  “Shut the front door! You went to a casino?” Gabe tossed her a hand towel, his face a mask of incredulity. “Did you...”

  “No! Of course not. I just watched. And then he asked me to play some slots with him. That's when I panicked and ran.”

  “Literally?”

  “Yes, I freaked…ran out of there like the bank was after me...Wait, the bank is after me.”

  “Stay on task here, Becca. What on earth made you agree to go to a casino with him?”

  “I don't know...” she whined. “He was so hot, and so sweet, and he said 'Hey, come with me to this party at the Venetian', and I was like 'Oh, no, I'm busy', and he was like 'Come on, it'll be fun, I'll have you home early', and then I was like...'Okay'...” She took a deep breath. “I have no excuse. I'm such a girl.”

  “I'm a girl--you're an idiot. You should have called me. I would have come for you.”

  “Gabe, how long can you keep rescuing me? I need to grow up at some point. Anyway, no damage was done. I got out of there just in time.”

  “What about the dentist? Are you going to see him again?”

  “Doubtful. I'm sure he thinks I'm= a nutcase.”

  “Becca, listen. No more joking here. This is the first time I've seen you excited about a guy in, like, forever. If you like him, call him up and tell him the truth. If he's as good a guy as you say he is, he'll understand. And then maybe you'll finally get laid.”

  “Shut up. I got laid last summer.”

  “Yeah, by that circus freak.”

  “Don't call him that.”

  “Becca, he was literally in the circus!”

  “So? He was cute. And flexible.”

  “And gone in a week.” Becca rolled her eyes. “Look, all I'm saying is, a dentist might be nice. No drama. No crazy. No tightrope injuries.”

  “Well, don't get your hopes up. After my little display last night, he probably hopped the first plane back to LA.” She turned and focused on folding the perfect hand towel so Gabe wouldn't see how much that thought hurt her.

  “Hey.” Becca turned her head when she heard the serious tone in Gabe's voice. “Don't sell yourself short, princess. I'll bet the good doctor is trying to figure out a way to see you again. You're kind of irresistible.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nick dropped his toothbrush and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He had to figure out a way to see Becca again. He knew he could just show up at her apartment, but first he needed to figure out what had gone wrong the night before. Should he call Katie? He frowned at his reflection. He doubted =she would be of much help since she was as puzzled by Becca's behavior as he was. A knock at the door brought him back from his thoughts. He hoped it was housekeeping--Jordan had come back to his room last night and left a mess of empty beer bottles and crusty room service dishes. God, what a slob. Nick shuddered with second-hand sympathy for Katie.

  As he opened the door, Nick stood at an angle, attempting to hide his towel-clad body.

  “Becca!” He kicked his foot against the doorjamb, trying to free his arms so he could tighten the towel around his waist. “Umm, just a sec, I--”

  “No, no, my mistake. I should have called first, I'm sorry...” He saw her backing away from the door, and reached out quickly to grab her sleeve and drag her in.

  “No way, you're not going anywhere.” And then they were standing in his hotel room, both a little breathless, staring at each other. Becca wore a light blue blouse and khaki shorts. With her hair in a ponytail, Nick thought she looked about fifteen. He looked down at his towel and blushed.

  “I just got out of the shower. Give me two minutes to get dressed.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to clean up while I wait? It looks like you had a rave in here.”

  “A rave? Yeah, now that you mention it, I think 1998 did show up to party last night.” She laughed, and he beamed. There was no better feeling than making her laugh.

  “Two minutes, I promise.” He ran to the bathroom and pulled on boxers, jeans, and a white button-down shirt. He washed his hands, ran his fingers nervously through his unruly curls, then gave up. He needed to calm down, but he was buzzing, almost trembling with excitement. She'd come to see him. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

  She was sitting on the fake leather chair at the desk reading the room service menu, the sun hitting her blond ponytail through the sheer window coverings. She was beautiful.

  “Okay, I'm ready.”

  “You look nice. Like a grown up.”

  “Like a dentist?” he teased.

  “No...still not like a dentist.” She put her fingertip to her chin and pretended to ponder. “Maybe a shoe salesman?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, like you sell adorable little Mary Janes to toddlers.” She grinned. “And then hit on their MILF mothers.”

  He laughed and walked towards her slowly. She looked surprised when he took her hands in his and pulled her up gently.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, beautiful Becca? After last night, I thought I'd blown it.”

  She dipped her head. “No, no, you didn't blow it. I did. I'm sorry.”

  “Tell me what's wrong.” She looked up at him then, her eyes large and solemn, and he ran his finger gently over her eyebrow, tracing its worried shape. Whatever it was, she was upset, and sad, and it made his heart ache. “You can tell me, Becca. It's okay.”

  “Well, it's just...” she trailed off, and he stood silently, waiting. “May I sit down?”

  “Yes, of course.” He pushed his suitcase back, making room for her at the end of the bed. She sat then told her story to her lap.

  “Umm...about five years ago, I went through kind of a bad time. My boyfriend broke up with me, and I was broke, and alone, and scared to death. I made some bad decisions, and got kind of...caught up in gambling. I lost a lot of money. A whole lot of money. It was like I couldn't stop.” She paused to exhale a long, stuttering breath. Nick sat tentatively beside her.

  “So, I started acting really irresponsibly. I borrowed money I knew I couldn't pay back. I skipped work sometimes to go to the casinos. I started lying to people about what I was doing and where I was going. And then, one night, I...I just realized that I had a problem, so I quit. Cold turkey. Last night was the first time I've been in a casino in three years. And I kind of...freaked out a bit. I'm sorry. I must have seemed like a lunatic.” The room was quiet for a long moment.

  “May I kiss you?” He didn't know what else to say.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He leaned in and captured her lips. It was a soft, lingering kiss. He moved back a fraction of an inch, and they breathed the same air, staring into each other's eyes.

  “Becca.” She didn't answer, just swallowed. “Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. It makes me sick to think I forced you into a situation that made you so uncomfortable. If I'd known…”

  “I know, I know. I should have told you. I just...I didn't want you to think badly of me.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope, never.”

  =“So it's okay to tell you about the year I spent selling crystal meth to puppies? And the time I started that pyramid scheme at the old folks’ home?”

  “What's past is past, Becca.” She sobered when he didn't take on her joking tone. “I don't care about the past.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, gathering her in his arms and letting the taste of her fill him. Finally, he pulled his head back and grasped her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her eyes, her nose, her forehead. He cupped her cheeks in his hands.

  “Becca, I've got forty-eight hours until I have to go back to LA. And I w
ant to spend them with you. Okay?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Never in the history of the world had there been a more perfect Saturday. Becca was sure of it. After lunch, she and Nick drove to her apartment and met Gabe, who was preparing a cake for an afternoon wedding downtown. The three of them climbed into the Wrangler, got the cake set up at the banquet hall, then made their way to Gabe's place where they drank cold beer on the patio and played Pictionary. It was so lame it was laughable. Nick and Gabe mopped the floor with Becca and Logan, who were so silly and tipsy they kept drawing on themselves instead of the game paper. Becca laughed until her sides ached.

  They stayed and ordered Chinese for dinner, and then Gabe dropped them at Becca's place where he waved goodbye and made them promise to do the deed before Becca forgot how. She was too happy to kill him. When they got inside the apartment, Nick twirled her around and hugged her, rocking her gently as he nuzzled the crook of her neck. Oh my, she could get used to this.

  “Nick,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Mmmm...”

  “Kiss me.”

  And he did, expertly, thoroughly, until she thought she'd break out in sobs of pleasure. He kissed her over and over, varying the tilt of his head, the pressure of his lips, and the probing rhythm of his tongue. She never wanted him to stop. Her body writhed against him shamelessly. Nick backed them towards the couch, still kissing her, smiling against her lips when he kicked the leg of the coffee table in his clumsy haste.

  He sat with her straddling his lap, and Becca became lost in the feel of him. His hair was thick and soft at the nape of his neck. His shoulders were slick and hot through the thin material of his oxford shirt. She could feel the taut muscles underneath, working as he slid his hands up and under her shirt, exploring the bare skin of her back. He pulled her shirt over her head, and she helped, lingering to unhook her bra and let it slide from her shoulders. With one arm cradling her back, he lifted his hand and lightly brushed her nipple with his palm. His touch was so soft and fleeting she growled in frustration.