“And hear it played everywhere I go for the next ten years? No thank you.”
“Huh. That would suck.” Like seeing Pike’s Pale Ale everywhere, for the rest of Jean’s life. “Option two would be to hate them instead.”
Adriana pulled her glossy ponytail over her shoulder, running her fingers through it like she was checking for snarls even though every strand was perfectly smooth, not a split end in sight. “Really hate them or just pretending to yourself?”
Damn. Adriana Asebedo, straight for the jugular. “You should be on60 Minutes.”
“I have been on60 Minutes. Twice.”
“As the host, not the guest. Bringing the hard-hitting questions.”
“Turn the tables,” Adriana mused. “Force someone to talk to me about their innermost feelings.”
“Exactly!” Jean didn’t think they were at the high-five stage yet, so she smacked her own palm with the back of her other hand. “Give people a taste of their own medicine.”
Adriana considered this, lips pursed. “I guess that’s something to think about. If Plan A goes tits up.”
“It’s good to have options,” Jean agreed.
A few minutes later, they parked in a dark lot that was empty apart from a party bus with blacked-out windows, equally suited to prison runs or pub crawls. Adriana’s security detail led theminto the building, alert for threats. Maybe they were worried about a raccoon ambush.
“We’re going to have dinner upstairs,” Adriana said. “Do you want to join us?”
It was flattering to be asked, even though Jean had no desire to watch the Charlie-and-Adriana show at close range. “I think I’ll hit the tables.”
“Then I hope it’s your lucky night.”
Jean couldn’t bring herself to say,you too!“Thanks for the lift.”
As soon as Adriana and her entourage were out of sight, Jean wandered deeper into the casino, past the slot machines and video consoles. All of these booze nepo babies had money to burn, so Jean might as well win some of it from them at poker.
Speaking of ripe for the plucking, she heard Smithson badgering another player and was surprised to see that it was Charlie. So he wasn’t having dinner with his long-lashed love after all.
As she approached the table, Jean sized up the situation. Charlie looked pale and uncertain, while Smithson was gloating as he raked an armful of chips over to join his pile of winnings.
Oh hell no.
“Deal me in,” she said, pulling out a chair.
Chapter 26
Charlie had given up hope of his luck turning, at poker or anything else. The only bright spot on the horizon was that eventually this outing would be over, and Smithson could beat his chest and feel superior because he’d triumphed over a table full of drunks.
Though in Charlie’s case, it wasn’t cocktails clouding his judgment. A solid half of his attention had jumped back to the last time he’d played cards. When he caught a whiff of Jean’s perfume, he assumed it was an olfactory hallucination, brought on by how intensely he was concentrating on the past. But then there she was, climbing into the seat beside him. He leaped up to help her push the tall chair back under the table, since he doubted her feet would reach the floor.
“You here to watch the master at work?” Smithson spun one of his chips.
“I’m here to wipe the floor with a bunch of amateurs,” Jean corrected.
“Yeah, okay.” Smithson’s laugh died out when she stared back at him without smiling. “You don’t have any chips.”
“She can have mine.” Charlie made a snowplow with his hands, pushing his meager stash over to Jean.
“Tapping out, Two Buck? Can’t stand the heat?”
Charlie scratched the back of his head, considering how to respond to Smithson’s taunting. “Yes and no,” he finally settled on.
“What does that even mean, dude?”
