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He pats me on the shoulder and smiles down at me. For a moment, I think, he’s the dad I never had. It’s not the first occasion and it surely won’t be the last. Wolf’s mentorship began in my teen years, when I was a runaway orphan charming my way through Stonebrook. He pulled me out of the streets, put a cut on my back, and showed me there was more to life. I guess he’s still showing me.
Wolf heads off towards the bar as Rocco returns from it. He passes me a Manhattan that tastes like perfection. While I savor Stacy’s handiwork, my eyes land on another example of perfection, one that suddenly lifts my mood.
The first thing I notice are her brown eyes. Doe eyes, but their innocence belies a twinkle of mischief lurking in their shadowy depths. A pretty, round face, with a button nose and pink lips completes the ingenue ruse. Long, straight, chestnut hair reaches the small of her back and my eyes follow it like an arrow to her thick, round ass. All of her is thick, a bronze colored delight that beckons me, packaged in a short, form-fitting red dress to showcase those voluptuous curves.
“I know that look.”
Without averting my gaze, I reply, “What look is that?”
“The one that means I’ll have to find another partner in crime for the night.”
I clink my glass against Rocco’s. “I’m glad you understand.”
He snickers. “Good luck. What am I saying? You don’t need it.”
Rocco heads off to find his own distraction while the sweet thing in red reels me towards her. At the periphery of the craps table, she stands among other girls more ennamored with the realtor’s streak, twirling the straw of her fruity cocktail. As I near, her eyes catch mine and hold for just long enough before turning bashful and glancing at the floor.
“Just come to watch, or do you enjoy a game?” I ask when I arrive beside her.
She turns her head to me, smiling while that twinkle in her eye sizes me up. “I enjoy all sorts of games.”
“Quite the player, hm?”
Her eyes make a slow tour of my physique. “By the looks of it, that makes two of us.”
“Only ever by the rules.”
“I’m sure.” She offers her hand. “Claire Lawson.”
We shake. “Ajax.”
“That it?”
“I was never part of a family whose name I cared to bear.”
A flicker of sympathy shows in her gaze. “Ajax is unique enough, I suppose.”
I offer her my elbow. “How about some blackjack, Ms. Lawson?”
“I’d be delighted,” she responds, daintily placing her hand in the crook of my elbow.
I lead her across the casino to a pair of open seats at a blackjack table. Carlos shuffles the deck in preparation for the next hand, an actual dealer at the real casino two towns over. He brings his expertise when he moonlights for us, captivating patrons between hands with his exceptional cardplay. I slide him a collection of twenties to buy in. As Claire sits, the end of her dress rises along her leg and the lights trace her smooth thigh. I busy myself with this enchanting sight while she fishes cash from her purse.
She catches me and grins. “That’s a liability in cards, you know. Distraction is dangerous.”
Carlos slides the chips across the table and I play idly with my stacks. “As is confidence. How about a side bet, between the two of us?”
She sets her elbow against the edge of the table and props her adorable face up with her palm, leaning closer to me. The scent of her perfume, something deceptively sweet, cements the memory of her. Whenever I smell any of its notes again, vanilla, cinnamon, rose, I know she’ll haunt me. “Are you sure? I should warn you, Lady Luck is my sister.”
“A kiss,” I tell her.
She arches an eyebrow, nibbles on her bottom lip. “If I win?”
I tap my chips. “Whatever’s left.”
We shake.
Carlos deals.
