“Is everything okay?” the security guard asked.
Even though it wasn’t, Jamie forced a smile. “Yeah.”
“Hi, Mr. Baxter!” Ruth greeted him, ever the polite one.
Jamie stepped forward, her voice sharp. “How did you get in here?”
AJ grinned, leaning back like he owned the place. “Told them I was your dad—AJ Keaton.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re using my last name now?”
“When it suits.”
He extended a hand to Clayton. “AJ.”
Clayton shook it firmly, and Jamie didn’t miss the way her father held on a second too long. Testing him.
“Clayton Langley.”
AJ nodded. “Big fan.”
Jamie crossed her arms. “Why are you here?” She wasn’t surprised. He’d been calling. She hadn’t answered.
“What do you mean? I live here, sweetheart.”
“Here? At the MGM Grand?” She lowered her voice. “You remember you’re banned from this casino, right?”
AJ pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights from his shirt pocket, tapping one out with practiced ease. “I’m not playing the tables. Just came to see you.”
“You can’t smoke in here,” she told him.
He tapped the pack against his palm, knocking a cigarette loose. “It’s a casino.”
“You can only smoke in designated areas, Mr. Baxter,” Ruth said, helpful as always.
Jamie cut to the chase. “What do you want?” There was always an angle. Always.
Clayton shifted beside her. “Jamie, maybe your daddy just wanted to see you.”
She scoffed. “You don’t know him like I do.”
AJ pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “That hurts.”
“If you need tickets, I don’t have any.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Already got tickets. But if you could give me a line on who’s winning, that’d help.”
“You’re betting on the awards?” Not surprising. Given the chance AJ would bet on the color of someone’s underwear.
“We don’t know who’s winning,” Ruth said.
“What about the category you’re presenting?”
“The envelope’s sealed,” Clayton said.
AJ sighed, slipping the cigarette back into the pack. “Guess I’ll find out the old-fashioned way.” He stood. “Is there any grub around here? I’m starving.”
“There’s food in the green room,” Ruth offered.
