ELLIOT
Elliot had nevermuch liked gambling. Losing money for sport wasn’t something he could afford on a journalist’s salary, and so much of it was left up to chance that he probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it even if he’d had the dough to lose. Simon was winding his way through the casino floor with Elliot close behind. There were bright lights and too many cigarettes and bings and bops and clangs from the slots. It was disorienting, Elliot thought. Enough to make you lose yourself.
The high rollers’ tables were tucked in the back, behind a velvet rope, with security granting entry. A burly guy in a tight-fitting suit nodded at Simon, then pinched the latch on a rope and allowed them through.
Kai Carol was unmissable.
He had an entourage behind him and a beautiful woman on each side, like he couldn’t make up his mind. Which, given everything Elliot knew about Kai Carol, sounded exactly right. He was in an expensive-looking navy tapered suit, and Elliot was relieved that he’d thought to wear his too. It wasn’t that he cared if he wasdressed appropriately, but he wanted Kai to know that they were sparring partners. That even with all the fame, all his disgusting wealth and private jets and entry to just about anywhere in the world, Elliot was on his level.Out of professionalism, Elliot told himself. Not because of Birdie. Though it was mostly because of Birdie.
Kai was staring at his hand and looking displeased. Elliot thought that for an actor, he sure as shit couldn’t bluff. But he was absurdly handsome, with perfectly supple, perfectly moisturized skin, a haircut that probably cost as much as Elliot’s rent, and a jawline plastic surgeons would covet. Did covet. He had a heavy Rolex on his wrist, and his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to look casual but sharp.This guy, Elliot thought,knows how to play a part.
Kai shook his head and placed his cards down on the table.
“Dammit,” he said. “I’m out.”
One of the women leaned closer and whispered something in his ear, and he swiveled toward her, delighted. He pushed back his chair and stood, as if she’d proposed that they go up to his suite and undress. She probably had. Kai Carol, Elliot could see, had that way about him. Sheer magnetism.
“Mr. Carol,” Simon called as they neared the table. He held out his hand, and Kai, upon noticing Simon, did the same. They were old acquaintances, the professional sort anyway. Though Kai was renowned for his suite at the Wynn, he’d become a regular at the Boulevard’s tables.
Simon hadn’t been all that surprised when Elliot called a few days back. He’d heard the rumors about Kai and Birdie over the years, even if nothing had ever been confirmed, the press had never run with it beyond some early speculation. Besides, Simon had told Elliot over the phone, he’d never blamed Kai for why heand Birdie hadn’t worked out. If Birdie couldn’t shake Kai from her system, that said more about Birdie or perhaps about her compatibility with Simon than it did about anything else. Regardless, he confirmed, yes, Kai was in Vegas these days during his downtime.
Elliot pondered this for a while after they hung up. If he’d ever reach a place of such placidity about her. It was all so adult, so subdued. But then Elliot’s feelings for Birdie had never been subdued, and that, he thought, was the point.
“Ah, Mr. Halstead,” Kai said while vigorously shaking Simon’s hand. “I’ve lost enough money to call it a night. Or at least take a breather and check in with my accountant.” He grinned, and his immaculate white teeth were matched only by his immaculately cratered dimples.It should be a crime, Elliot thought,to be born so good-looking.
“We always appreciate your patronage,” Simon said. And he appeared to mean it. “I wanted to take a moment to introduce you to my old friend Elliot O’Brien,” Simon said.
Kai’s smile faltered for only a flicker of a second, microscopic if you weren’t looking for it. But Elliot was. And it brought him immense satisfaction to know that Kai recognized his name. That Kai was following the story. Then Kai bounced back to his outsized, magnanimous persona.
“Mr. O’Brien, a pleasure,” Kai said, extending his hand and gripping Elliot’s with a professional firmness. “Here for some poker?”
“Sadly, I am terrible at the game,” Elliot replied. “I’m completely unable to bluff.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. A single eyebrow. Elliot assumed he’d honed this for the camera, but still, it was an art.
“Ah, well, I’m on my way out,” Kai said. “I can only lose somuch money at once before I need some fresh air. Nothing is breaking my way tonight, it seems.”
“Do you mind,” Elliot said, slipping so easily into his reporter voice that Birdie would surely call him on it if she were here, “if I asked you a few questions before you do?”
Kai grinned like he was used to people asking all sorts of questions. Whether or not he wanted to answer them was an entirely different story. But then he’d gotten good at dodging sticklers, Elliot knew.
“Sure, why not.” Kai shrugged. “But first, how about a drink?” He looked at Simon, who flagged over a server, who then rushed off to the bar. “If we’re going to get into this,” Kai said, “it’s probably best to first have a drink so we all know exactly where we stand.”
42
BIRDIE
Birdie was recognizedin the lobby of the Boulevard, of course. Most people kept their distance, but she could feel the long stares, the slightly turned heads, as if people didn’t want to gape but couldn’t help themselves.
Andie checked them in while Birdie signed a few autographs and snapped a few selfies and forgot, for a moment, that she was technically publicly reviled. Then an older woman smacked her lips together and said, “To think I always thought that you were the nice girl from next door, picking fights with Sebastian Carol, calling that nice young man at the bar a”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“fuckwad. I would like a refund.”
And Birdie surprised herself by biting her urge to correct the narrative, telling the woman just how much she had gotten wrong—that both of those men deserved it. Instead, she reached into her wallet and pressed two twenties into the woman’s palm, saying, “Here you go. A refund. Consider us even.”
And then a couple of twentysomethings started clapping and whooping at her gumption, and Birdie thought,Maybe this isn’tabout pleasing the public, maybe this is about pleasing myself, and something took flight in her, the weight lighter on her shoulders, the pressure in her chest a little bit less heavy. She’d been America’s Sweetheart for so long that it hadn’t occurred to her that she might not even want to play that part any longer. She offered a shy wave to the cheering twentysomethings, and they offered proud fist pumps in return, and then Andie was back, having checked them in.
“I need to get to the casino,” Birdie said. “Mona told me that Elliot is with Simon. I should probably go talk to them both.”
“I’ll drop the bags in the room,” Andie replied. It was a relief, Birdie thought, to have an ally, not one on her payroll like Imani or Sydney, but an honest-to-god partner who had no ulterior motive. “You can do this, Bird. It’s gonna be okay.”
