"How much longer are we going to hang out here?" My brother lets out a low groan, already bored of playing our fifth round. "I want to hit the bar."
After my last loss, I need to recoup. Drinking alcohol will only dull the senses. Just because he's ready to wrap things up doesn't mean I'm ready to join him.
I've got money to win. Instead of taking a high risk, it would be better to play it safe.
But when have I ever taken the safe route? Looking over the entire table, the weight of my chips feels like stones against my fingertips as I run the risks in my head.
Seeing me locking in, he sighs under his breath before turning around to take in the entirety of our playground. Smoke's always been the kind of guy who doesn't have a lot of patience, so I'm hardly surprised by his little huffs and puffs.
"This is going to be the one, I swear..." Mumbling to myself, I look between the numbers, hoping one of them will jump out at me. Call it a gambler's instinct.
While I place my chips down on six numbers, Smoke nudges me with his elbow.
"Got a waitress headed our way." He then groans softly under his breath and already starts looking around for an exit. "Fuck, it's Bunny."
"You deal with her. I'm busy." Waving him off and ignoring his sudden discomfort, I place the last of my chips down. "Alright, this is going to be the one. I can feel it in my bones."
On the other side, our very patient dealer, Francis, cocks a brow before giving me that shitty smile of his. He's in his late forties, aged with gray hair and lines at the corners of his eyes. That kind of experience comes with working at the casino for as long as he has. It's that smile that makes me question everythingbecause I know he's seen this wheel spin a thousand times over. He'd know the outcome better than I would. "No more bets, then."
Making the call, he spins the wheel before I can start doubting myself.
Behind me, I hear a feminine voice matched with Smoke. Despite trying my damned hardest to focus on the white ball, I can't help but pick up on the few words the cocktail waitress is telling him.
A woman with a kid who needs Steelwood's help. With the two of us maintaining this place, there's no one we're going to be able to point Bunny toward. Meaning, this is going to be ausproblem.
Meaning that if I lose this game, there won't be any more chances to recover.
"Come on..." Murmuring soft encouragement to the ball to hit one of my numbers, I watch as the ball finally stops, sinking in a slot.
"Black thirty-three." Francis' smile remains. "Tough luck, kid."
Just like I know Smoke like the back of my hand, he knows me. So, before I can hit the table with the undersides of my fists, he's grabbing me by the back of my cut before pulling me back, before I can damage anything.
When my anger flares up, it flares hot.
"One more game." I try to swat Smoke's grip away, but he doesn't budge. "Dude."
"We've got a lady to take care of." Just like that, I'm being tugged.
"I'm coming back to win my money back." Promising Francis and his stupid, smiling self, I'm forced to walk away under Smoke's forced guidance as he moves his hand from the collar of my jacket to my shoulder.
He fills me in along the way, but his details are lacking. I'm still cooling down from my loss when we reach the entrance of the casino. A soft cry reaches my ears, and it becomes pretty easy to find who we're looking for.
A woman our age is kneeling in front of the upset toddler. She's softly speaking to her, reassuring her that everything's going to be okay. At the sound of our boots approaching, she turns to look our way, and suddenly, everything tilts.
The world pauses, and I almost forget how to walk. The noise from the casino dims to a faint hum. Francis' smug face vanishes from my mind. Smoke's hold on my shoulder feels like a ghost's touch. All I can sense is the air rushing out of my lungs in a single sharp breath.
Fuck me.
She's beautiful. No—that word's too small. Too ordinary. Beautiful is for sunsets on a long ride and vintage bikes. This woman?Perfection.
My boots scuff against the floor, and I don't even care that I stumble. If I fall, at least I'd be closer to her.
Unlike my current state, this woman looks more like a doe caught in headlights. Wide hazel eyes stare back at us.
She's a young mother, has to be in her early twenties. Those round cheeks of hers carry a pink that my fingers are itching to graze.
I've never seen this woman in my life, and that's the problem.
