Charlie reached across the aisle to touch her shoulder. “Don’t let them spoil it for you, Mugsy. You’re worth twenty of them—especially Smithson.”
She blew out a long breath, like there was a cake full of candles in front of her. “You’re right. Screw them. And the horse they rode in on.”
Emma dipped her sunglasses to peer at Mugsy.
“What?” Mugsy fidgeted under her gaze, smoothing her hair.
“I admire your passion.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Emma nodded, sliding her dark glasses back into place.
“Sorry if I offended you ladies,” Smithson bellowed. “That includes you, Chuck.”
Mugsy started to stand, but Charlie shook his head. “He’s not worth it.”
She frowned at him but must have seen that Charlie wasn’t too upset, because she lowered herself back into her seat. Jokes about that song were nothing new. And at least Jean wasn’t here to get the wrong idea.
At last, the bus rumbled into Deadwood, circling around Main Street to park behind the casino Smithson had rented out for the evening. Charlie hadn’t been here for years, though he had fond memories of the history museum and the hilltop cemetery where Calamity Jane was buried. He wondered if Jean would want to see that, before remembering it was nighttime, and she wasn’t here.
They entered the building through a back door. Even with the lights and sounds from the slot machines, it was a welcome respite from the bus.
“That was like the before part of a migraine commercial,” Mugsy grumbled as she stepped past Charlie. He held the door for Emma, who surveyed the scene with typical detachment. Machines of varying size surrounded them, with a quieter cluster of felt-topped tables at the other end of the room.
“I learned how to play poker,” Charlie said. “When I was in Hawaii. Jean taught me.” If he thought Mugsy would be impressed, her scowl quickly set him straight.
“How much did she take you for?”
“We, uh, didn’t play for money.” Was it warm in here? Charlie’s face felt flushed. Fortunately, Mugsy didn’t ask for details. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I could reach out to her. Jean.” It was a sideways version of the truth, but Mugsy had never responded well to a frontal assault. “She shouldn’t be that hard to find—”
“Charlie.”
There was a world ofnoin her voice, mixed with equal partsyou can’t be seriousanddo I really have to tell you why that’s a bad idea?
Emma Koenig had turned her body slightly, as if fascinated by the design of the nearest slot machine, but Charlie could tell she was listening. It didn’t stop him from trying again.
“I’m not sure she did what you think she did. And even if she did, what did she really tell them?”
“Your location,” Mugsy reminded him. “And I’m sure they paid her plenty for it.”
“Allegedly. But she could have given them a lot more than that. If you know what I mean.”
Mugsy made a strange noise.
“Are you grinding your teeth?” Charlie asked. “Rememberwhat Dr. Hall said. There’s no point wearing your mouthguard at night if you’re going to abuse your molars during the day.”
Her nostrils flared, in what he hoped was a calming breath. Maybe she needed time to adjust to the idea. Before he explained that Jean was already here.
“I would like to try this sarsaparilla,” Emma said. Even though it was quieter in the casino, she still touched Mugsy’s arm to get her attention. “Is it like one of your teas?”
Charlie was surprised Emma had tasted Mugsy’s teas. She didn’t share them with just anyone.
“Not quite in that league, but it’s drinkable,” Mugsy replied. She glanced at Charlie. “You’ll be okay?”
“Yes, Mugsy.” He kept the sigh inside. “I’ll manage.” Especially since they’d booked the entire building. Charlie wondered how much that was costing his parents, on top of all the other expenses of the weekend.
After they disappeared up the stairs to the saloon area, Charlie looked for a quiet corner. Not to hide; just to be alone with his thoughts.
