I widen my eyes. “What?”
“The servers. They have a brand on each shoulder. The left is their suit, the right their number.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought they were tattoos.”
“Some of them are, especially the servers in Diamonds and Hearts. But the black sections, Spades and Clubs, those are usually branded on. Saves time. And we don’t have time to stop at a tattoo parlor, anyway. So the brand will have to do.”
I swallow. “Do you have access to these brands?”
“I do. Rouge has been keeping them in my dressing room, so I have easy access. You’ll have to choose, Spades or Clubs?”
I mull it over. I’ve almost exclusively sat in the Spades section whenever I’ve come with Maddox to Aces Underground. But I wasn’t sitting there the last time I came. I was in Clubs, enjoying a cigar, when I first heard Bianca sing.
And from that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.
“Clubs.”
She nods. “Perfect. And what number? I should have all of them in my dressing room, so you can have your pick. It’ll be a permanent brand on you, so pick one you want on your shoulder forever.”
And for some reason, this isn’t a difficult decision at all.
I’ll choose the card that trumps all the royals. The Jacks, the Kings.
Even the Queen herself, as much as she wouldn’t want to admit it.
I grin. “I choose the Ace. The Ace of Clubs.”
36
BIANCA
I rarely drive my Silver Lexus. That’s the nice part about living in the Loop. Everything I need is within walking distance, and if it isn’t, it’s an easy trip on the L. I only drive it to Aces when it’s too cold to walk. So I’m glad I get to take the old girl out of town.
I stopped at Aces this morning and grabbed two brands from my dressing room. The Club and the Ace. Quite a few are stacked in the corner along with other items from Rouge’s office, so I doubt they’ll be missed if she looks around. I’m on my way to Harrison’s home in Oak Park now.
I park in front of his house. It’s a nice ranch-style home with a dark-red roof and light-yellow siding with navy shutters on each window. He has a tidy front yard surrounded by a white picket fence and a small garden in the corner. He walks out his front door—the same color as the shutters, of course—and waves at me as I park.
I get out and give him a hug. “Happy birthday, Harrison!”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “Some birthday.” He breaks the embrace, but then his eyes soften. “There’s no one I’d rather spend it with, though.”
“Same goes for me, handsome.” I look toward his house. “Your home is so charming.”
He smiles. “Thanks. I’ve done a lot of work on it since I got it a few years ago.”
“I’ve been living in the big cities so long, it’s almost startling when I meet someone who doesn’t live in an apartment.” I gesture to the garden. “Planting anything soon?”
He shrugs. “The only thing I’ve ever been able to grow in that damned garden is carrots. And I avoid those like the plague. But I’ll get some seeds laid down soon enough. With a little luck, I might be able to get something to take root.” He nods to the door. “Let’s go inside.”
“Yes.” I grab the brands out of the trunk and hand them to Harrison.
He eyes them warily but doesn’t say anything.
The interior of Harrison’s house is just as quaint as the outside. Beige carpeting and light-blue walls. His living room is dominated by a leather sectional and a big-screen TV complete with a speaker system. A light-yellow rug covers the floor.
“You must like yellow,” I say. “There’s a lot of it in your home. Is that your favorite color?”
He frowns, rubs at the back of his neck. “I like it, but my actual favorite color is…green.”
