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“What about the Foleys? They may head straight for the local casinos.”
“I think our long-lashed friend has to maintain the facade that this is a family vacation, if only for Foley. She’ll do her gambling at night. Besides, that’s when the thrills are the highest. Meanwhile, they’ll probably be doing the family scene themselves.” He scooped up the credit-card receipt. “I’d better get back. The broad places bets all over the ladder. She’ll be down to her last few chips by now.”
“Unless she’s winning.”
“Sweetheart, she’s obsessed. Her kind never win.”
She has so far, Stormy thought bitterly.
17
She wasn’t scientific, quantifiable, or expert, but at the roulette table beneath the gleaming chandeliers in the Crystal Palace, Stormy was having beginner’s luck.
She felt as if she had crashed through an invisible barrier to the unknown. Whatever gambling fever was, she was touching it, smelling it, and hearing it. She didn’t know how to handle it.
Tyler was standing behind her stool; she kept glancing back at him for reassurance. All she understood was that Tyler had asked her to pick some numbers. Five, nine, and thirteen popped into her mind. He placed bets on them. The numbers kept coming up winners. He moved off the stool and told her to play the money she’d won.
There were sidebar bets. She learned she couldride the lines. She kept expecting to lose, to have the dealer sweep her chips off the board, but he kept coming back to her to pile up more. Tyler kept telling her to play it out.
The Foleys were at a nearby table, but there was no room for another player. Now it was Tyler who followed Cheryl to the cashier’s booth. Only once did he return empty-handed. He asked Stormy to check the women’s restroom. Cheryl had not tossed the credit-card receipt but absently held on to it as she went into the ladies’ room.
Sure enough, Stormy found the receipt wadded up on the sink amid lipstick-smeared tissues and a paper towel. This time, she’d only gotten two-hundred dollars.
At midnight Tyler told Stormy to cash in. She put all her chips into a little plastic bucket to take to the cashier. Tyler removed five and passed them to the dealer.
“Why’d you do that?”
“It’s a tip, sweetheart.”
“Oh. Why are we leaving? The Foleys are still gambling.”
“We’ve got what we need. There’s a pattern to how Cheryl uses her cards. She starts out getting five hundred, then reduces the amount. Remember those printouts? How the cash advances gradually lowered? Apparently, she’s bottomed out on four different credit cards.”
“Then why’d you stop me from playing? I was winning.”
“You were enjoying it too much.”
Stormy paused, stunned. “I was, wasn’t I?”
The cashier sorted her chips and tallied up her winnings. Stormy’s legs suddenly felt like rubber. “How much were those chips worth?” she asked Tyler.
“We were at the five-dollar table.”
“You mean each chip was worth five dollars?” She thought about her bets, how she’d allowed them to stack up to five while riding on five, nine while riding on nine, thirteen while riding on thirteen. She did some quick mental calculations and gasped. “You let me bet three hundred and twenty-five dollars on one spin?” She could barely get the words out. “You idiot!”
He grinned. “Does that mean you’ll foot the bill for the cab back to the ship?”
She was still trembling with aftershocks as Tyler paid the steward who’d watched the girls.
“Thirteen must be your lucky number,” he told her lightly as they stood outside their cabin doors. “We have thirteen credit-card receipts. Don’t wake me for breakfast. I’m sleeping in tomorrow.”
Finally, Stormy let the words tumble out as they came into her head. “I know what she’s feeling, Tyler. It’s a rush—it’s so powerful. It takes over. I was so focused, yet my heart was in my throat the entire time the wheel was spinning.
“Poor Cheryl!” She sniffed to ward off the tears she felt burning her eyes. “I told myself not to feel sorry for them, but I can’t help it. In order to put my life right, I may have to destroy theirs.” She sniffed again. “And Jason is Liane’s new friend. It’s awful.”
Tyler reached for her and drew her into his arms. “Everyone has a choice,” he said softly into her ear. “You, me, Nina, Noreen, Tully, the Foleys—everyone. Some of us, some of the time, don’t make the right choices. The Foleys made theirs, and you can’t hold yourself responsible for their behavior. You’ve got to hang tough.”
“I thought I was, but I don’t feel tough now. I feel awful. We won’t do anything in front of the children, will we? I couldn’t bear it.”
