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“Baby, hit me,” the loudmouth says.
“My name is Katerina, and I need a hand signal,” I tell him politely but firmly.
He rolls his eyes. “Baby, there’s no eye in the sky at this joint. Hit me.”
“Still need a hand signal.” Now I’m just being difficult because even though he’s correct—the hand signal is for the cameras at the casino more than anything—he’s still an asshole.
“There’s your hand signal.” He flips me off, and his buddy cracks up.
I keep my expression neutral, dealing him a card while envisioning him busting bigger than shit. “Eighteen,” I announce.
“Hold,” the man says smugly, unaware he’s about to crash and burn.
“Hit me,” his buddy says.
I deal him a Jack. “Seventeen.” He has no choice but to hit now, and I deal him a nine. “Bust,” I announce.
Smiling politely, I flip over my nine. “Nineteen. Dealer wins.”
The man mutters something under his breath, walking off without so much as a thank you. Or a tip.
“Here you go,” his buddy says, sliding over a dollar chip, which might be more insulting than not tipping at all.
My evening proceeds without further incident, and the party shuts down around midnight. We trade in our tokes for cash, and Russell hands me and Taylor an envelope with tonight’s pay. “If you’re looking for a gym, we’ve got a special running,” Russell tells me. “First month on the house.”
“I might take you up on that,” I blow smoke up his ass as we part ways.
Taylor and I grab our bags and step outside, walking down the alley. The cute bartender’s leaning against the wall, packing his cigarettes. My mouth salivates and my stomach clenches uncomfortably.
“You want one?” He notices me staring.
“She just quit. Come on, Kat,” Taylor says, pulling me along.
“What am I going to do the next time I’m tempted, and you’re not around?”
“Just say no?” she suggests.
“Genius! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Smart ass,” Taylor chides. “Why don’t you try working out? I never thought I’d be into boxing, but it’s so freaking fun. Get your dopamine fix that way,” she suggests.
“Maybe,” I say skeptically.
“Hey, you ladies want to grab a drink?” The bartender catches up with us.
“Just say no,” Taylor stage-whispers.
“I’m sorry, but no. We have to be up and at it tomorrow. Working out.” I narrow my eyes at my friend.
“Ah, okay. Maybe next time.” He walks off, and I don’t feel too bad. Guarantee a guy like that has another woman waiting in the wings.
“Good girl.” Taylor pats my arm.
“Save your good girls for your new girlfriend,” I grumble.
We reach her car, and I slide in the passenger seat. My phone vibrates, and I fish it out of my purse.
Baby, it’s Dominic. I’m back, and I want to see you.
