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Just enough to keep Grandmother and the executives at bay.
Just enough to test the waters that had scalded me so badly the last time I’d been fully submerged in them.
I reached the sidewalk that hugged the coastline and continued along, only glancing up occasionally to take in the flashing marquees of each casino resort. This strip of the Coast was lined with them. The larger ones were attached to floating barges that were anchored in the water by millions of pounds of steel piles. Some were only casinos, but most were combination casinos and resorts like Fortuna. All of them were themed, with Fortuna fully embracing the aesthetic of ancient Rome.
The sun was just beginning to set as I strolled under the sky bridge that connected the two sides of Fortuna—the same one that I took Cody to all those years ago. On the Gulf side was the main entrance to the casino, the pool, the spa, and twenty-seven floors of rooms and suites. The bay side housed Fortuna’s world-class theater, several convention halls, and even more floors of accommodations. There was an array of restaurants dispersed throughout both sides.
My hair blew back as I stepped through the automatic sliding doors of the bay entrance, and I took a moment to breathe in the oddly comforting smell that was Fortuna Casino & Resort. A mixture of salt water from the Gulf, leather from the little gift shop that sold all sorts of Fortuna-branded merchandise, and fresh-roasted coffee from Caffeina—all topped off with exhaust fumes that continuously wafted in from the sliding glass doors that led outside to the valet lane.
I scanned the lobby for any managers milling about, but my gaze was quickly drawn to the beautiful indoor landscaping that still awed me after all these years.
There were full-sized magnolia trees inside Fortuna’s lobby. Some lined the front of the grand lobby, beautifully framed by floor-to-very-high-ceiling windows, and created an almost greenhouse effect. The smell of the blooms was somehow stronger and the sunlight warmer the nearer you stood to them. The trees on the opposite side of the thoroughfare stretched toward the glass-domed ceiling as if reaching for rays of sunlight.
The sudden commotion of a group of what appeared to be bachelorette partygoers, judging by their sashes and gaudy cowboy hats, passing by drew my attention to the subtle casino entrance where the flooring changed from the lobby’s patterned carpet to a more luxurious stonework flooring. It was the sole visual demarcation of the casino’s entrance. The only other giveaway was the two security guards who stood on each side of a tall podium, checking the IDs of everyone who wanted to play Fortuna’s games.
I glanced away from the suited security officers as a man with a ponytail power walked toward them. He bore a striking resemblance to Penn Jillette, carried a brittle sense of authority, and smelled like Old Spice cologne. He was the only manager who could arrange my full return to the casino floor.
There was never going to be any waitressing or bussing tables tonight.
Fortune was not smiling at me tonight.
She was kicking me right in the ass.
I had a vague hope that Cody’s recent departure meant that I was due for at least some measure of good luck before the inevitable serving of bad.
Because that’s how it always worked.
The bad followed by the good.
The devastating followed by the spectacular.
The never-ending righting of Fortune’s scales.
And I’d only recently started making my way out of the devastating.
It wasn’t the healthiest worldview, but when you were raised by a gambler, certain superstitions stuck. And this one had yet to be proven wrong.
I studied the man—Fortuna’s Entertainment Manager—for a moment longer and imagined myself turning around and walking right back out.
Which led me right back to what was—or wasn’t—waiting for me at home.
Purpose.
Family.
I trudged toward the casino. It was time to take part in some aspect of my life.
But I still hated myself a little bit for the next words out of my mouth.
“Big Daddy!”
His head whipped toward me, and I watched in equal parts dread and determination as the all-business frown he’d been wearing transformed into a wide, excited smile of anticipation.
Hours later—I wasn’t sure how many—I stood in front of the sink in Fortuna’s most opulent washroom and furiously scrubbed my face with lavender-scented hand soap.
And scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
