They aimed for Grant, I added,But we both could have been killed.
Mentioning Grant would piss off Christine, but I didn’t see the point in avoiding the truth.Don’t tell me you’re still hanging out with him. Get a new roommate!she responded.
I stared at the black double doors of the casino, a stark contrast to the faded salmon exterior. Grant was in there. And I wasn’t with him. I was shadowing him.
Fuck this.
I punched in a response to Christine, something about not being able to find another athletic trainer and roommate combo, then grabbed my purse and headed for the door. The bouncer checked my ID, then gestured inside.
A hazy mist covered the casino floor, almost like a fog machine was pumping double-time somewhere, though it was probably indoor cigarette smoke. A diner with the chairs up on tables was to the side, the lights dim, and most of the slot machines were occupied. A few cocktail waitresses with bags under their eyes circled the floor. Some poker and craps tables, a few spinning roulette wheels. People crowded around each one, talking quietly to one another.
I didn’t see Grant anywhere. By now, a few heads had turned, watching me, and I knew I looked out of place. I was younger than most of the people here by more than a decade, with far too much energy in my gait. I wandered, trying to find an empty spot to wait in. A slot machine with a sparkling cat at the top caught my eye, and I slumped into the seat, taking out my phone.Where are you, anyway?Christine had texted.
Sour Times, I started to respond. It’s not like she would venture to this side of town anyway.
A man with dark hair and a mole on his cheek leaned on the cat machine. I glanced up.
“Are you here to play?” he asked.
“No. Sorry.” I looked back at my phone, but exited out of the text with Christine without sending it. I pretended to write another response, to be too busy to have a conversation, but the man was still there, still watching me.
“Then get out of the seat,” he said.
“Sorry,” I murmured. I grabbed my purse and stood, looking around for a bathroom. Some of the machines were so tall that I couldn’t see around them. I went to the aisle and tried to look again, but had no luck. It was like being in the middle of a maze.
The same man came out to the aisle too.
“Are you looking for fun? Working girl?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. Working with what? The hum of the machines and dice bouncing on the table was irritating. I ignored the man’s question and headed in a direction, any direction, as long as I eventually made it to the wall and found a damn bathroom.
“Out here to make a buck?” he asked again, matching my pace. I turned over my shoulder and threw a glare, hiding the fact that I was shocked to see how tall he was. He towered over me. “You wanna play?”
I faced him. “I don’t,” I said. “I’m looking for my friend.” I turned back around and continued on, but he still followed me.
“Your friend isn’t here now,” he said in a low whisper. “Baby, I’m here to play. Wait with me until she’s here. I can show you how to beat the house.”
“I said I’m waiting for a friend.”
“Not a boyfriend then.”
I turned over my shoulder. “Yes. A boyfriend,” I hissed.
He smirked, and it gave me chills to see his smug face wind up like that.
“You’re lying. That blush. Tell-tale sign, girlie,” he whistled to himself. “You wish he were your boyfriend. But your boy is nothing compared to me, girlie. I can show you how to play. There are different rules here in Sin City.”
I was at the wall now. A dead-end. I looked around and saw a light on the wall at the far end of the casino floor, what I hoped was a sign for the bathroom. I turned around slowly. The man was leaning on the wall next to me, nearly pinning me there.
There was a sparkle in his eye that wasn’t right. Something was off. There was an uncanniness about him. I wasn’t sure if it was a physical characteristic, or the way he slithered when he said,I’m here to play. But the red flags were waving high, and the Hazel inside of me was screaming,You should’ve listened to Grant and stayed in the car, you dumb ass!
Was this man the stalker? The man who had tried to run us over? Was Grant here to kill him?
Why hadn’t I stayed home?
“I’m fine. Thanks,” I whispered.
“You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine since you left your mama’s womb,” he growled. “I can see it in your eyes.”
