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The casino in the back was small, but packed, despite the early hour. It was so dark, she wondered if these people even knew that it was daylight, or if they were so busy gambling that they’d lost track of time. Some of them looked stoned. It reminded her of an old-time opium den.
A man sauntered close to her, toothpick wedged between his yellow teeth. He had a jagged scar that started over his eyebrow and cut a straight line down to his chin, and a devilish look in his eye, like he’d just found his new plaything. “Why are you asking, American girl?”
“I have business with him,” she said, mustering enough courage so that her voice didn’t crack.
“You do?” He looked back at the other men, who laughed heartily. Obviously it was some joke, and Daisy didn’t quite understand the punchline. “Who should I say wants to talk to him?”
“Daisy Fortune.”
She expected that he’d go off into some back room and fetch his leader, but instead, he just stared at her, gnawing on that toothpick until she began to shift uncomfortably.
“It’s a bit urgent,” she said.
He snorted. “Etienne does not come out and talk to just anyone. So unless you’re here to play some cards, you’d better move along.”
She stood there for a moment, weighing her options. In the smoky casino floor, she saw the gamblers, in the midst of their games. Behind her was escape. She could easily head back the way she’d come.
But if she did that, she wouldn’t get anywhere.
And they’d invited her to play cards.
So, not making any sudden moves, she shrugged and sidestepped her way to the casino. “I guess I’m playing cards,” she said, feeling their eyes glued to her back as she went.
Daisy felt like she was navigating a minefield. She made it to the first table and slid on to the only empty chair there. The dealer, an older man with a bushy moustache, stared at her expectantly.
She had never before gambled in her life, not even on a trip she’d taken with her father to Atlantic City. Her brother Charlie had taught her how to play blackjack and poker, about a million years ago, and had always let her win. That was the extent of her knowledge.
“Uh, deal me in,” she said, unsure as to what he was waiting for.
“Your bet, mademoiselle,” he said as the other gamblers, all grizzled, older men, looked over at her.
“Oh,” she said, digging through her purse. They’d all put chips out, and she didn’t have any of those. She reached in and pulled out Goldie’s black card. “Can you . . .?”
He took it. “What would you like, mademoiselle?”
“Oh . . . a hundred?” she ventured.
“Minimum bet is one-thousand.”
She stiffened. Goldie had said to use the black card for anything, but she still felt uncomfortable with it. “Okay, one-thousand then.”
He handed her a single one-thousand-euro chip, and she slid it into the betting circle. He dealt out the cards, giving her a queen and a three, and dealing himself an eight.
She noticed the man next to her wave his hand for another card, so she did the same. The next card was a seven, giving her a twenty.
The man next to her sliced his hand through the air to hold, so she did the same. The dealer dealt himself a six, and then another eight, busting.
The dealer casually pushed another chip, just like her first, over to her.
She stared at it, a giddy feeling coming over her as she realized she’d just won a thousand euros. In seconds. She wanted to jump and shout, but the men next to her, with their giant piles of chips, seemed intent on the next hand. One of them had just won a stack of what had to be about twenty-five thousand euros.
“Your bet, mademoiselle?” the man asked her.
Focus, Daisy. You’re not here to gamble. You’re here for answers.
“Right.” She slid over another chip.
This time, she wound up with a twenty one, immediately. She hadn’t had to lift a finger. The dealer pushed two thousand-dollar chips toward her. Now she had four.
