She nodded, following him so far. Her parents were so carefree she had a hard time imagining them forcing her to do much of anything. She had chosen her own extracurricular activities at school. She had dated whoever she wanted without them interfering. She had chosen her own university. Her life was her own, and she supposed that was something Ollie had never felt. No wonder he seemed upset.
“So, during this fight,” he continued, “I told my father that if he couldn’t give me a little bit of freedom, that I would have nothing to do with the family business, ever.”
Her eyes widened, and he continued. “When he realized I was serious, he started to relent, but then he told me life is too short to waste it doing things you don’t know are going to work out or not. His company is a sure bet—it’s guaranteed security for me. Forever. He doesn’t understand that sometimes … sometimes people need to make mistakes and take risks to figure out who they are and what they want.”
She nodded and realized she was taking a risk just sitting here in front of Ollie. Was it because she wanted to figure out who she was? Ollie fascinated her, no doubt about that. She wanted to dig into him and find out what made him tick—and, most of all, why he made her feel so alive whenever she talked to him.
He let out a heavy sigh and wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing up his baseball cap. “This is a long answer, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mind, really,” she said. “I’m sorry if it’s stressful for you. I can … I can leave if you want.”
He pushed his cap back down on his head. “What? No. I’m almost finished, it’s all right. So, my father told me if I really felt that way, then he wasn’t going to support me anymore. He seized all my accounts. He evicted me from my apartment since he owns the complex. I really only have one bag of stuff that belongs to me now. He sold everything I left behind. He took my car. He even canceled my phone service.”
The air in her lungs seemed to have been sucked right out. She opened her mouth a few times, speechless.
“That can’t be legal,” she finally managed to say.
He grunted something harsh under his breath. “If you’re my father, it doesn’t matter. He can get away with pretty much anything when it comes to me. I wasn’t left completely high and dry, although I’m sure he wanted me to be. I’ve been living at the Bellagio. Not everyone loves my father to pieces, and I know a few employees there who have helped me. So far, my father hasn’t found out.”
“So the purse stealing …”
“I’m getting to that.”
She nodded, as if this was perfectly logical, as if everything he was telling her justified him stealing other people’s stuff. Then again, was that any worse than what his dad was doing to him?
“A few months ago, before any of this happened with my father, I was walking on the Strip and I saw a man steal a woman’s purse. He did it so perfectly, so quietly, that it didn’t register what had happened until a minute after the fact. I started paying more attention to stuff going on around me. I hung out in that same area, and, sure enough, a few days later I saw the same man stealing another purse. This time, I followed him. I was going to turn him in, but then he started talking to me. He said it was how he survived. He told me he could teach me some secrets if I didn’t turn him in. I don’t know why I agreed. I guess I was curious. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that in my life—talk to a criminal like that. It was exciting, in a way. It felt like giving my father the finger, even though he had no idea I’d done it.”
So that was when you started stealing purses. He’d done it because he was curious. Her eyebrows pushed together, and he looked up at her with widened eyes.
“That’s not when I started stealing purses,” he explained quickly, as if he’d read her mind. “All I said was I talked to him. I thought it was interesting, and that was the end of it.”
She gave him a hopeful look, urging him to keep going.
“Until my father took everything away from me,” he said, as if pushing it out of a dark corner. “I was angry and hurt, and even though I had exactly what I thought I wanted—freedom—for someone like me who’s used to having whatever he wants and needs, I sure don’t feel very free. My friends at the Bellagio have helped me out as much as they can. They’ve helped me stay in a room there, but that’s all they can really do, short of lending me money. I was too proud to ask, too proud to beg, and too stupid to think I could get it easily. I hit the casinos first, since I’m all right at some of the games. I made a fair amount—enough to live off for a while, anyway. I figured if I could keep rolling it in and making something, I’d be okay, right?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“Except … my father pretty much has his hands in everything, including the casinos, even ones he doesn’t own. He knows people. He must have started spreading the word to keep me out of as much gaming as possible. I was told to leave tables over and over, and if I wasn’t told, I was pretty much driven away because I couldn’t seem to win no matter what I did.”
Miranda was starting to feel sick to her stomach.
“My father’s point was clear,” Ollie said. “He found me on the Strip one night and offered to give everything back to me if I’d start working for him as a full-time employee. But I was stupid and I said no. I told him what he’d done to me was better than being controlled by him. I told him I’d find another job and be just fine. He told me good luck and left, and I knew … I knew he was going to do everything in his power to keep me from succeeding. See, I know my father pretty well by now. I know this can’t go on forever. We care about each other too much, even if that sounds crazy to you. This is a game to him—a way to teach me a lesson, to show me what it’s like with no money, no security, no options. And he’s right. He really is. I’d probably be happier giving in, but then … well—”
“No!” Miranda leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t give in to that. He’s a tyrant.”
“He’s my father.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t make any of this right. All you wanted was a little freedom, and look what he’s done to you.”
“That’s what I thought too. That’s what I thought when I saw that man steal another purse, and I thought to myself, there’s something my father can’t control. So I did it. I stole a purse, and then another, and another. I sold what I could, used the money to get another phone and buy some new clothes so I could try to build myself from the ground up. Then … then you happened.”
She froze with her fingers still curled around his hand. He was warm, and she had to admit touching him sent a thrill straight through her like an electric current.
“What about me?” she whispered.
He looked down at her hand and then returned his attention to her eyes, his voice dead serious as he said, “You’ll have to win another round to get your answer to that.”
“You … ugh!” She was halfway between laughing and reaching out to punch him in the arm. “Fine.”
They started slapping down their cards as fast as possible, but she could see she was losing her edge as Ollie took more and more of her cards. Finally, two jacks. Miranda set three cards face down on top of her jack and flipped over her fourth at the same time as Ollie. Hers was a two of diamonds and his was an ace of hearts. Damn.
“About time,” he said, gathering up his spoils. “So, dear Miranda, you must answer truthfully …”
She kept her eyes on his, her stomach turning over at the thought of what he might ask her. She had a feeling he didn’t know how to ask trivial questions.
“Why did you call your phone after I stole your purse?”
She stopped herself from letting out a sigh of relief. She didn’t want it to seem like it was too easy to answer, not after he had spilled out so much painful information to her.
“It was my sister’s idea,” she explained. “She dialed my number because she thought it would be funny and that I’d get over losing everything easier if I saw that trying to reach you was point
less. But it turns out it wasn’t pointless, so I guess the joke was on her in the end.”
He smiled. “So she dialed and you took the phone?”
“Yep. I had a mini heart attack when you answered.”
“I almost didn’t answer.”
“Oh?” That was a surprise. He had sounded so confident when he had answered.
He poked at his stack of cards, making them fall sideways. “Yeah, but I was looking at your driver’s license when your phone rang and you looked so … so nice … and pretty … and you’d chased after me. I wanted to know what kind of a person would be brave enough to do that. So I answered.”
He thought she was pretty? She tried to control the blush she knew must be all over her face, and then realized they were answering each other’s questions outside of the game rules.
Ollie must have realized it too. He straightened his cards and cleared his throat. “Despite the risk of you thinking I’m a little stalker-ish for staring at your driver’s license, let’s, uh, move on.”
“All right.”
They slapped down some more cards. Ollie’s pile was growing dangerously large. She wondered what would happen if she ended up with nothing and the game was officially over. Would the questions stop? Would Ollie feel relieved because he wouldn’t have to spill more information?
She won the next round, which increased her pile of cards just a bit. She repeated her last question as she straightened her stack. “So, what about me? What did you mean, I ‘happened’?”
Chewing on his bottom lip, he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. She liked the way his hat shaded his eyes. They were light and dark at the same time as he looked at her. “You called your phone. I heard your voice. I realized what I’d been doing to other people by stealing their stuff—how wrong it really was, even if it felt like the easiest option. I knew I couldn’t keep doing it.” His eyes found hers, and she stared into the light gray pools and then down to his lips.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“I’m going to apologize to my father and get my life back.”
“But you said you wouldn’t have a life if you do that. What kind of life is that—living under someone’s thumb?”
He shook his head. “You’re tricky, Miranda … sneaking in all these questions when I’m feeling so vulnerable.”
Another hot blush blossomed on her cheeks. “I don’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Let’s keep going.” He turned over his next card, and she followed right after him. It was another pair. She won the round again, and it looked as if their piles were equal now. This game could go on for hours.
Before she could even repeat her last question, Ollie leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I’ll find a way to make it work with my father,” he said. “He’s the only family I have that cares I exist.”
Miranda looked down as he reached forward and traced a finger up her arm. Since when had they become this intimate? Since, like, three seconds ago, apparently. She didn’t mind. He seemed so alone, so sad. What would it be like to live without her family? It was a foreign concept to her. Here she was, perfectly fine in her life. Loved, taken care of, but given her freedom at the same time. That was … well, it was something she would never take for granted again. What made her more depressed than anything else was wondering if Ollie would give up any chance of such a thing if he gave in to his dad.
“I don’t think you should,” she said softly. “I think it would be a mistake to throw yourself into that life if you know it’s not going to make you happy.”
He smirked. “Who says it won’t make me happy?”
She realized she didn’t know Ollie at all, and it made her sad. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to hold him and press her lips against that soft spot on his neck, right there above the collar of his T-shirt. Time seemed to stop for a second as she relished his touch on her arm. Then he pulled away and she returned to reality.
“What about freedom and risks and mistakes?” she asked. “What about finding someone you want to be with?” She almost gulped down that last part, but let it come out.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled. “I don’t know what I want, where I want to go. And I don’t have anyone in my life who understands. When you grow up with a lot of money, you’d be surprised how hard it is to make real friends. You know, people who aren’t just there to use you. Even ones who start out meaning well … something always happens and it turns sour over one thing or another.” He studied Miranda’s face so intently his eyes were like lasers trying to pierce through her. “Which probably means this whole thing with us—whatever it is—isn’t going to end well.”
She laughed and his gaze broke. “You’re penniless, Ollie. I can guarantee I’m not using you. Besides, how many friendships have you begun by stealing? This isn’t exactly typical.”
His face broke into a smile. “Well, I’m not completely penniless. I’ve managed to hold on to a little money.”
“Stolen money,” she retorted in a teasing voice.
“Not all of it’s stolen. Besides, I’m returning your stuff, aren’t I? Wait, so are you … are you saying we’re friends?” He spoke the last word as if it was a sacred thing. To him, it probably was.
She returned his smile and leaned back in her chair. Taking a sip of coffee, she nodded. “I’d like to be.”
“Well, that’s …” He shook his head and took another bite of his pastry. “That’s really great,” he said softly through his chewing.
He was still holding the pastry close to his mouth, and she noticed his scars once again. That would be her next question, but she’d have to wait because Ollie won the next round. Her heart pounded as he tapped his front teeth with a fingernail. “What’s your greatest fear?”
“My greatest fear? That seems like a vague sort of question.”
He shrugged. “I’m curious. A person’s greatest fear can say a lot about them.”
“Well, um …” A hundred things raced through her mind. She could say it was being trapped in one place forever like her parents, but that would be a lie because she feared deadly viruses and plane crashes more than that. In all reality, she wanted safety. Staying in one place could guarantee that. But she also craved excitement and adventure and had always dreamed of breaking out of her shell. To her, safety and excitement were akin to oil and water. Was it possible to have both?
“Wow, lots of thinking for this one,” Ollie interrupted her thoughts. “Is it a complicated question?”
“It’s a complicated answer,” she replied as she looked into the bottom of her coffee cup. Was she really going to spill her darkest fear to a guy she barely knew? For some reason, she wanted to do just that. “I think it’s ending up alone,” she said, looking across the table into his eyes. She let them act as an anchor. “But it’s not that I’m afraid of being alone … because I’m not. I like to be by myself. It’s more like I’m afraid that I’m going to die alone, that I’m going to look back and see that nobody ever wanted me enough to stay with me, or that I was too afraid to want someone enough to stay with them … that I’ll end up valuing safety more than the rewards of risk.”
Ollie blinked. His expression was serious, almost shocked. “My father once told me everyone dies alone,” he said with a crack in his voice. “But I don’t want to believe him.”
She tried to swallow and realized how dry her mouth had become. “Should we keep going?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
They kept playing. Ollie’s stack grew thicker, and Miranda laughed when he commented that he’d finally eased back into his groove. When they hit another pair, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut as she turned over her fourth card. Ollie had a queen. When she opened her eyes, she grinned. She’d put down a king.
“Nice,” Ollie laughed. “Hey, do you want more coffee?”
She glanced at her empty cup. “Are you trying to avoid my question?”
She nodded toward his hand. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He looked confused for a minute then glanced down at his hand. “Oh, that.”
“It looks like it was painful.” As she sipped her coffee, she studied the raised, white flesh spread in a large spider web pattern across his knuckles.
“The cuts were pretty deep,” he explained as he studied the scars. “But if I had to do it all over again, I would.”
“That sounds like an interesting story.” She smirked. “That’s a subtle hint to tell me, by the way. I’m really curious.”
“Oh, I can tell you. It’s nothing, really. I had a girlfriend a few years ago and her ex found us at a party one night. He tried to attack her with a beer bottle and I got in the way—on purpose, of course.”
“Wow … that’s amazing, Ollie.”
He laughed. “Why? I did the right thing, even if she did leave me a month later.”
“I’m not sure any of my old boyfriends would have done something like that for me,” she said, watching Ollie rub the scars as if he was remembering how much it had hurt.
He lifted his attention to her. “Then they didn’t deserve you.”
3.
When Miranda returned to the hotel room, it didn’t seem anyone had missed her. It was two-thirty and she was full of coffee and pastry and sugar. She was high as a kite. Ollie was her friend now. The guy who stole her purse was her friend. That was so strange, but cool at the same time. She pulled off her T-shirt and slid into bed, thinking over everything Ollie had said. After he told her about the scars, none of their questions were as serious as they had been earlier. Things like favorite colors and foods. Nothing too revealing. She figured they were both exhausted from sharing all that emotionally draining information.
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