by Sage Nyx
Leroy is clearly unimpressed. “I’m not picking up those banana pieces,” he says with a doleful glance at the smashed banana on the carpet. “That’s your mess. I’m not your maid. You made the mess, you clean it up.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, walking over to scoop up the banana with a paper towel. “The trick is cool though, right? How the cards slice uniformly right through the banana?”
“Someone might think so,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve seen better.”
“Remind me never to wake you up again,” I say with a frown. “You’re in a foul, evil mood.”
“Leroy!” a voice calls out from the bathroom. “Where are your extra towels?”
“Your towels?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. “What’s that about?”
“I let the girls believe that I live here too,” he says, a tad sheepish. “It makes me more attractive.”
I roll my eyes at him and jerk my thumb toward the bathroom. “I don’t want them in my shower or touching my towels.” I move past him toward the door. “Get rid of them now. That’s your mess, you clean it up. I’m off to the gym. Text me when they’re out of here and it’s safe to return.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “They’re good as gone. Then I’m calling room service about breakfast since you’ve ruined that perfectly good banana I was planning to eat.”
One of the women steps back into the room. I can’t recall her name.
“Do either of you want to join us for a shower?” she purrs, leaning against the wall in a sexy pose. “We’re lonely in there all by ourselves.”
“Sorry, got to run,” I say with a wink at Leroy. “If you need anything, talk to my man.”
“That’s right,” Leroy says, his mood perking up at the sight of the naked woman. “Leroy will take good care of you ladies. Just like I did last night. What do you need, doll? Towels? Soap? A back rub?”
Shaking my head, I slip out the door. Even with two naked girls in my room, all I can think about is big green eyes.
Jade
I’m on my way to the casino the next morning armed with a strong cup of coffee and a backpack full of protein bars. In the early hours before sunrise, the Las Vegas strip is eerily quiet.
Without the sparkling bright lights and excited crowds, the strip is sad, almost bleak. At night, Las Vegas is an explosion of lights and color, while in the daytime it’s a dull black-and-white, silent film.
“Hey lady!” a bearded, homeless man sitting on the dirty sidewalk yells out to me. “You got a dollar to spare?”
His clothes smell of sweat and alcohol. I don’t make eye contact and start to move past him. Out of the corner of my eye I see him tear off a piece of the stale bread he’s eating. He holds it out to a stray cat hanging around a nearby trash can.
The skinny cat comes closer and carefully takes the bread from him. The man chuckles and gently strokes the cat’s scrawny body.
I let out a sigh, stop and turn around.
Digging into the bottom of my backpack, I come up with enough coins to buy his lunch and a can of cat food. I hand the money to him.
“Here you go,” I say. “Buy something for the cat, too.”
“Thank you,” he replies with a grateful smile, showing a row of crooked, yellow teeth. “Don’t go inside the casinos, missy,” he warns, pointing a gnarled finger at me. “Or you’ll end up the same as me. I’m telling you, don’t do it. They’re the devil’s playground. Nothing good will ever come of it. Never.”
I nod and quickly move on past him. His odd warning unnerves me. Hopefully, he’s not a fortune teller.
Once I’m inside the casino, I put the homeless man out of my mind and head straight for the slot machines. The casino is almost empty with only a few guests aimlessly milling around or sitting at the card tables.
Most of them look like they’ve gambled all night with their tired, bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes and desperate expressions.
Luckily, I’m able to snag the same machine as the night before. I breathe a sigh of relief that all my hard work wasn’t a complete loss. Even so, the episode with the drunks pisses me off.
The blonde guy and his groupies represent everything I find most annoying about people with their superior attitudes, fake body parts and money to burn. I doubt any of them have ever put in a hard day’s work in their entire lives.
I drain the rest of my now cold coffee, and try to push away my lingering irritation. They’re not worth wasting my time thinking about. I’m the one with the brains. If given the choice, I wouldn’t trade my smarts for beauty or anything else they might have.
Beauty fades with time.
I shove the group out of my mind and concentrate on the task before me. Any negativity will do nothing but slow my progress down.
Two hours later, after steadily feeding the slot machine, I’m feeling lucky. The machine is finally beginning to pay off.
Not by large dollar amounts. Only enough to tell me that my system has a good, solid chance of working.
I’m hopeful.
Nothing would make me happier than to call Mom at the end of the week and tell her to book Daniel an appointment with the occupational therapist. The cost will run up quickly for the daily extensive therapy he needs.
Possibly into the tens of thousands of dollars.
Whether it’s a hundred dollars or a thousand, it’s money we don’t have.
“Is this seat taken, honey?” an elderly, red-headed woman interrupts my thoughts before plopping heavily down on the stool beside me.
The scent of her cheap perfume fills my nostrils. I shake my head and give her a polite smile. “No, it’s open. Go ahead.”
She places her huge purse on the floor between us. The top is open, revealing a big plastic baggie inside filled with quarters. Smiling, she pulls it out and shows it to me before placing it beside the slot machine.
“I brought my stash with me,” she says with a hearty giggle. “It’s surprising how fast coins pile up in the bottom of my big purse. I swear, this bag must weigh ten pounds. I’ve collected quarters for a long time. I call it my fun money. It’s a secret stash my husband doesn’t know about.” She giggles again and winks at me. “He’s dead asleep in our hotel room upstairs with a hangover. I’ll be back before he even realizes I’m gone. I snuck out.”
I nod politely, hoping she’ll take the hint I don’t want to be disturbed. I’m not rude. It’s that multitasking isn’t a strong trait of mine. I work best when I can hyper-focus on one task at a time. Otherwise, it’s too easy for me to get off track.
She slides on a pair of bifocal glasses hanging by a chain around her neck and fumbles with the colorful buttons on the machine. When nothing happens, she takes her glasses off and leans forward to get a better view.
“How do you work this damn thing, honey?” she asks after a minute. “These fancy machines confuse me. What happened to the good old slot machines they used to have in Vegas? You know the ones…where you pull the lever and the pictures flip?” She makes a rolling motion with her hands. “My favorites are the ones with fruit. Cherries were always lucky for me. Does this machine even take quarters? All I see is a slot for credit cards.”
“These are the video slot machines,” I turn to her and say. “Don’t worry; they still have the older ones.” I point to the far side of the room. “Over there behind the bar. There’s a whole wall of the older slot machines to play.”
She glances over to where I’m pointing and starts gathering up her stuff with a loud huff. “Okay, then. I’ll leave you to play these fancy machines by yourself. By the way, there’s a handsome, young man watching you. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s getting ready to come this way.”
“What?” I ask in surprise. “Who?”
Please don’t let it be casino security.
I turn around to see.
Damn.
The jerk from last night is leaning against the big circular bar in the middle of the room with a tall, frosted glass in his hand.
He’s drinking already? Why am I not surprised? He probably keeps a fresh drink in his hands twenty-four hours a day.
He’s dressed in black pants and a white shirt open almost to the waist again. Did his mother never teach him how to button a shirt? I wonder if he’s in town for a bachelor party or a wild weekend with his friends? Maybe he stayed up all night, though he certainly looks refreshed and bright-eyed this morning.
And as devilishly sexy as ever.
When he sees me glance his way, he places his drink down on the bar and makes his way across the room.
Well, this is great.
I fight an inexplicable sudden urge to jump up and flee from the casino. He’s moving too fast and I’m trapped. In seconds, he’s standing beside me with an amused smirk on his handsome, tanned face.
“I thought I recognized you,” he says. “Were you not sitting here in this same spot late last night?”
When I don’t answer right away, he crosses his arms and leans casually against the slot machine. My instinct is to ignore him and pray that he’ll go away peacefully.
I’m not good at talking to strangers. If I don’t know what to say, I usually don’t answer or even crack a hint of a smile. This makes most people uncomfortable enough to leave me alone.
When he doesn’t take the hint and move along, I realize the tactic won’t work with him. I suspect he’s a man who always gets his way with women.
I glance up at him quickly in annoyance then back down at the machine. “Yeah, I was here,” I say. “I’m surprised you remember. You and the rest of your entourage were totally wasted.”
He grins, showing perfect white teeth. “Sorry about that. The partying got a little out of hand last night. I apologize for Shirley’s behavior. She had too much to drink. I’ll be glad to pay the dry-cleaning bill for your clothes to make up for it.”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out an expensive leather wallet, and starts thumbing through the thick wad of bills.
“Wasn’t her name Shelley, not Shirley?” I ask.
The words slip out. Being drawn into a stupid conversation with this guy is the last thing I need to be doing.
“Was it?” he answers in confusion. “I could swear it was Shirley. It’s too bad you didn’t stick around longer. You might’ve been entertained by our attempts to escort her gracefully out of the casino. In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t pretty. My bodyguard ended up throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out, kicking and screaming. She lost a shoe that we never found. If you find it under one of the slot machines, turn it in.”
I stop playing for a moment to glare up at him. “Did you put her into a cab to send her back to her hotel like any decent guy would or did you take her home with you?”
My blunt question catches him by surprise, and he frowns at me. I bet he’s not called out often on his shit, if at all.
“We put her in a cab along with her friend and sent them back to their hotel,” he says. “You saw how intoxicated she was. She needed to sleep it off.”
“Okay,” I say, turning back to the slot machine. “Just checking. I hate seeing women being taken advantage of when they’re drunk.”
“Did she seem like a girl who would be taken advantage of?” he asks. “I don’t take advantage of women if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Maybe not,” I say grudgingly, remembering how she licked my neck and propositioned me.
Now I feel stupid for mentioning it.
“Can we start over?” he says, his tone suddenly changing. “This isn’t going well. I came over here to apologize for last night and to make amends. What’s your name?”
“It’s J—,” I automatically begin to say my real name, Judy Miller before I stop myself.
There’s no way I’m telling him or anyone else in this town my real name. My eyes drift over to the hand of the lady still sitting next to me.
She’s staring straight ahead and trying to pretend she’s not listening closely to our conversation. Her chunky fingers are covered by big, Southwestern-style rings. One gaudy ring catches my attention.
“It’s Jade,” I blurt out. “Jade…Stone.”
“Your name is Jade Stone?” he repeats back. “That’s a porn star name if I’ve ever heard one. You expect me to believe that’s really your name?”
I try to appear slightly offended. “My parents were geologists,” I explain, lying through my teeth. “They thought they were being clever and original. Their sense of humor is a little warped.”
Inwardly, I cringe at my lies.
I’ve been in Las Vegas less than forty-eight hours and I’ve already turned into a lying, cheating woman.
This town is no good.
At this rate, by the end of the week, I’ll be robbing banks. Maybe casinos are the devil’s playground.
His expression tells he’s not convinced. He pulls out a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and tries to hand it to me.
“Okay then, Jade,” he says. “Take this with my apologies to pay for the damage to your clothes. It should cover the dry-cleaning bill.”
“No, thank you,” I reply. “I don’t need your money. It’s fine. The stains aren’t anything that won’t come out in the wash.”
All I really want him is for him to go away and leave me alone. I have work to do and he’s interfering. His presence is making it hard for me to concentrate. He’s distracting me.
Again.
The man is a wicked curse.
If this casino is the devil’s playground, then he’s the devil.
Something flickers in his blue eyes. A sign of sudden interest that I didn’t see there before.
“You won’t take my money?” he asks in surprise. “That’s a first.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s unnecessary. You can go now. I accept your apology.” I wave a dismissive hand at him. “Really, I do. No hard feelings and all that. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
He reaches into his pants pocket again and pulls out a roll of coins. “At least let me give you a roll of quarters. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“This slot machine doesn’t take coins,” I point out. “Only credit cards. Now if you have an American Express Black card you want to give me, then maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Honey, for the love of God, quit arguing with the nice man and take the damn quarters,” the red-haired lady beside me pipes up to say. “If you can’t use them, I sure can. This handsome man is trying to make amends for something. Don’t make him beg.”
“But I don’t need the quarters,” I tell her.
“This is the problem with relationships today,” she continues. “Young women always acting independent. Can’t you see he’s trying to do something nice for you? Let him. Quit trying to make courting so hard. No wonder young women can’t find a husband.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he says to the lady with a slight bow, then turns back to me. “You should take her advice and accept my apology. Hold out your hand.”
I’m outnumbered by the two of them. This guy is seriously annoying. Sexy as hell, but still irritating and persistent.
“Will you promise to leave me alone if I do?” I ask.
He grins back, his eyes glittering with amusement and doesn’t answer. This is a fun game to him. I roll my eyes and hold out my hand.
Reaching over, he drops a roll of coins into my palm. When our hands touch, the roll of coins suddenly turns into a small live snake that uncoils and slithers up his shirt sleeve.
“What the hell?” I yell, jerking my hand back from his. “What is wrong with you? That’s a damn snake!”
His loud laughter rings out across the almost empty casino. “You should’ve taken the hundred-dollar bill,” he says with a wink. “Rule number one. In Vegas always go with the sure thing.”
“You’re a freak,” I say, rubbing my hand vigorously on my pants leg. The snake was cold, creepy, and very much alive. “What are you? A street performer or something? Where d
id the snake go? Is it under the slot machine?”
“I’m sure as hell not hanging around to find out,” the lady beside me mutters. “Good luck, sweetie. You’ll need it in this town. Forget what I said about him. I hate snakes.” She quickly picks up her purse, along with her bag of quarters, and hurries away.
The guy smiles at me, showing a deep dimple in his cheek. He grabs my hand again and places a real roll of paper-wrapped quarters into my palm this time before closing my fingers tight around it.
“Aren’t you even going to ask my name?” he says, gripping my hand tighter when I try to pull it back.
“No, why would I?” I frown at him. “I don’t care because I’m not into freaks. You’re weird as hell and hide reptiles in your clothes.”
“Guilty as charged,” he agrees with a low chuckle. “I’ll let the golden opportunity pass to joke about the anaconda in my pants. Maybe I’ll see you around again. You should take a break from gambling and check out a few of the shows in Vegas while you’re in town. I’ve heard some of them are decent. Until next time, Jade…Stone.”
He squeezes my hand gently one last time before abruptly turning it loose and walking away.
I turn my hand over and open my palm. Instead of the roll of coins I was expecting, this time I find only a paper show ticket.
Ah…he’s good.
Very good.
I’ll give him credit for that.
I’m sure I felt the heavy roll of coins in my hand. How did he exchange the coins for a ticket without me realizing it?
I inspect the show ticket. The only thing printed on the ticket is a seat assignment 1-A and the name of the show.
The ticket simply says…
“Call Me Sugar”
Sugar
“Hey Sugar! Hold up!”
I hear a man calling my name and turn toward the sound. One of the casino’s burly floor managers in a dark blue suit is standing by the main entrance. He waves me over.
“What’s up, Seth?” I ask when I get closer. “It’s quiet on the casino floor this morning. Are you expecting a big crowd later tonight?”