“Thanks,” I mutter hastily as I jog past him.
“No prob,” he says, looking back over his shoulder and frowning at Wendy. “Go upstairs,” he whispers to her.
“I will,” she says to him as I make it to the banister.
“Hey,” I pant. “Wendy, you should… where is Kit?”
“He went to the bathroom,” she says, shrugging. “He said you probably weren’t going to be busy for most of the night, and I just wanted to see if you wanted to come watch a movie or something.”
“Um…” I run a hand through my hair. “I kind of… I’m busy. I gotta stay here. I’m sorry,” I say. “Just um… I’ll be up as soon as I can, okay? But you really should…”
Wendy’s face hardens just a tiny bit. “Okay, fine,” she says. “See you, maybe.”
I am almost taken aback by how angry her reaction is, how teenage-like she’s suddenly jumped from ten-year-old girl to seventeen-year-old rebel in the span of ten seconds, but she’s gone before I have a chance to say anything.
“Tink.” Fox, from his perch at the arch, nods me forward. “You got a customer here or whatever.”
“Coming,” I say. My heart sinks with every quick step back out to the shop. This is going from bad to worse. Pan’s basically blown our cover. He’s spending money he doesn’t fucking have out of the pot. Wendy basically just barged into the middle of a game, and who knows if anyone saw her. And… and my heart stutters under my binder as I see who’s at the desk.
It’s him again. Gold Tooth. I keep my face stony and neutral as I sit back down. “Yeah,” I say, brusquer than I mean to, but I’m distracted. “What’s—what’s up, man?”
He gives me a sheepish expression, his nostrils flaring. “I’m out,” he says. “I uh, wanted to see if I could get a marker here.” He smiles. “Couple of dumb bets, but I think I can bring it back. You know.”
And then it hits. “Uh, yeah. Let me just…” I stare at my ledger, pretending like I’m scanning for something. There is no way.
If he’s here and he’s broke and he needs a loan, that means…
That means God knows how deep he is in at the official games. We can’t front to him. It would be the stupidest fucking move. And not only because the odds of us getting paid back are minimal. A guy like this might get lucky at cards enough to keep going, but he’ll just as soon blow his cash on coke and girls until security finally scrapes him out of the hotel room.
When I look up, I can feel every eye at the table on me, including Pan’s. I jerk my head backward, heart in my throat, to motion him over. He nods, smacks his palms on the table, and gets up.
“If you don’t mind,” he says to Gold Tooth, “just uh, gonna run this by my associate here.” He smiles, and Fox takes two significant steps forward that the guy correctly reads as a non-optional invitation to move to the side.
Pan leans over the desk, so close his hair flops just a fraction of an inch from my own forehead. When he smiles, I catch the liquor on his breath. “What’s up?” he says. “He good for it or what?”
I lick my lips. “He’s…” I exhale hard. “Don’t ask me how I know,” I say, “but he’s in deep at the casino with Hook. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he’s here. He’s got to be dead broke.”
I look up into Pan’s eyes, which are bright with intrigue. “You don’t say,” he murmurs. He glances sideways. “How bad?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh, impatient. “Ten, twenty grand, maybe? Could be more. I just…”
“Woof,” Pan says, a grin on his lips. He taps his teeth together, thinking. “A whale, dragging the ship after it by the harpoon,” he says, and laughs at his own joke. “I like this a lot.”
“What do you?—”
He ignores me, straightens up, and snaps his fingers at Gold Tooth. “What do you need, my man?” he says. “Credit’s all yours. Sounds like you’re a perfect candidate.”
Gold Tooth relaxes, smiles, nods in appreciation at his host. “You know how it is. Luck of the draw, but I’ll come back.” He smiles, the gold glinting. “Give me an even five.”
Pan nods. “Done, absolutely.But, on one condition.” He jabs a thumb to his chest. “You pay me back first. I don’t care what you owe, to who else—not interested and not my problem. You paymeback first. And if anyone gives you grief about it, you tell them to blame me.” He shrugs. “Easy enough, right?”
Gold Tooth blinks like he can’t believe his good luck. “Yeah, no question,” he says. “Thank you.” He shakes his hand, and Pan leans over the front of the desk to pick up a stack of chips.
My mouth hangs open.
“What did you—” My voice sounds weak, mumbly. I clear my throat, and Pan swings back to me so that his elbows are on the edge of the desk, his chin on his hands. Behind him, I can hear the dealer begin the next round. Light thumps of cards, rattling of chips. “Are you fucking crazy?” I say.
“Crazysmart,” Pan says. “Pot’s nice and fat. There is no way that guy is going to win, and he’s going to end up deep in the hole. To me.” Again, he thumbs at his chest. “And he’ll pay me first. Even better.”
