“Why?” I ask her. “This is more for the players.”
“Please?” She rolls her eyes at me. “The chairs are already filled with the ladies.”
I groan as Eric and Shelly laugh at me. “It would be good for you to date someone,” Shelly says. “You must be lonely.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her, and I avoid looking over at Victoria.
“Is anyone coming to my table to save me?” I finally look at her and she smiles.
“No.” She shakes her head. “But good luck with that.” Her smile is very deceiving because her eyes look like they could kill me.
I stare at her probably longer than I should before I nod my head at Jill, who is not going to leave my side until I follow her. I make my way over to the table and see she was not fucking kidding when she said the chairs were full.
“How long do I have to do this?” I ask Jill as we get close and I see one of the women smile my way.
“It’s thirty minutes,” she replies, and I take out my phone from my pocket and start a timer. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not,” I say gruffly as I look over to see Victoria is now with Lexi and Kylie sitting on one of the couches.
“Can you pretend to be nice?” She looks at me and asks. “Maybe smile.”
“No,” I reply as we get to the table.
“Ladies,” Jill calls to the table and the group of five women look up at me. Three blondes and two brunettes. “Your dealer has arrived.”
“Under protest,” I put in and Jill nudges me, “but it’s for a good cause.”
“It sure is,” one of the blondes agrees. “I’m Debbie.”
I don’t say anything to her, I just nod my head. “We should start,” I suggest and look over at the real dealer, who is watching to make sure I don’t fuck up.
“Place your bets,” he tells the girls, and they all stick some chips in the circle. “Now you deal them each one card,” he instructs me, “with a card to you, but it has to be face down.” I do what I’m told and then look down at the two that are flipped over.
“What do you want to do?” I ask the first girl who has a sixteen flipped over.
“Stay.” She smiles at me, and I move onto the next one until I get to the last woman, who has a twenty.
“How about we up the stakes a bit?” she urges. “If one of us wins this hand, you drop a number, your phone number.”
“Sure,” I agree.
“Then I stay,” she says, and I bust with twenty-four.
“So what’s the number?” She puts her elbow on the table and lays it under her chin.
“Nine,” I say, knowing full well there is no nine in my phone number.
They all share a look as if they have me. The next round they try again and this time I win, so I don’t have to make up a number. When the thirty minutes is over, I nod at them. “Have fun,” I say, turning around when I feel a hand on my arm.
“Thank you,” one of the blondes tells me, and I know she told me her name, but I didn’t care enough to register it.
“That was really fun,” she adds, her hand still on my forearm. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually do this.” She acts coy and there is nothing coy about what she is doing. “But I was wondering if maybe I can give you my number.”
I’m about to tell her no when the photographer comes by. “Can we pose?” he asks me.
“No,” I snap at him and he must think I’m joking because he laughs and puts the camera to one eye, as she pushes herself up against me and I lean to the other side.
The phone in my pocket buzzes and I pull it out.
