I want to yell and scream and throw shit, but the vulnerable look on his face has me stopping in my tracks. “Nothing’s changed,” I point out. I don’t have to explain further for him to know what I’m referring to. His business. Our business. No, we don’t sell drugs anymore, but there’s still the alcohol and weapons and illegal gambling.
“Actually everything’s changed,” he says. “I’ve been working on it while I was away.” He drops into his chair and hands me a cigar before lighting his own.
“I never should’ve let her go, but I was so money driven,” he admits.
“You didn’t let her go. She ran.” Just like… Fuck, I can’t go there.
“With reason. Look what my business did to you, to your life.”
“So what now?” I ask, changing the subject. Dad gives me a knowing look but lets it go.
“Now, I work on making the casinos legit. I’m going to lose a hell of a lot of money, but the hotels and casinos are profitable.”
“The gambling?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ll keep the underground casinos. They aren’t hurting anyone.”
I smirk. There’s the dad I know. At least he hasn’t completely lost his mind.
“Now tell me about this woman.”
I gave him a brief recap of what’s happened, and of course he pointed out Logan has always been shady as fuck. He told me as long as I can be civil to my mom, Nevaeh and I could stay while I figure shit out, and if I needed anything to let him know. I wish I could be as forgiving as my dad, but I’m just not there yet. So, knowing my mom was walking around the house, and afraid I would have to talk to her, I hid out in Nevaeh’s room, working on my laptop and keeping an eye on her while she slept.
When she woke up, with her luscious lips all plump and her thick hair all over the place from sleep, begging me to take her with me, I should’ve told her no, but the way she looked at me, with her innocent, pleading, fucking eyes, I never stood a chance.
I knew why she wanted to go—her list. What I didn’t expect, though, was for her to end up spread open on the table while I brought her to another orgasm. I couldn’t even tell you how the hell it happened. One minute I was explaining to her how the casino works and the next I was making her come on my fingers.
“Wow,” Nevaeh says, pulling me from my thoughts. “This place is gorgeous.”
While she was getting changed into a sexy white dress that shows off all of her amazing assets, I contacted Rosco and told him my plan. I’m sure he thought I’ve lost my head, and he isn’t wrong, but he told me he would handle it.
“This is the high roller’s room,” I explain. It’s also where all the underground, off-the-books games are played.
We head straight over to the table where Rosco told me everything is set up, and Nevaeh and I both have a seat. The dealer greets us and gives me a slight nod, letting me know he understands what he is to do, as the barely-dressed cocktail waitress saunters over and asks us what we would like to drink.
“Umm… I don’t have any money on me,” Nevaeh says.
“Drinks are free when you play,” the waitress tells her.
“Oh, well, I’m not playing. I’m just learning.”
So. Fucking. Innocent.
“I’ll take a Macallan neat, and she’ll take a blueberry martini.”
“Thank you,” Nevaeh says to me with a soft smile that has my insides tightening.
“All right, Blackjack,” I say, clearing my throat.
I run through the basics of how to play and Nevaeh follows along, asking questions. When she tells me she thinks she understands, I hand her a stack of black chips, each worth one hundred dollars.
“Place your bets,” the dealer says. He’s not running the table how he normally would since he’s been told not to. This game is just for Nevaeh.
When I grab five chips and place them in the betting area, Nevaeh copies me.
The dealer deals, and I take a look at my cards and then Nevaeh’s. I have a two of clubs and a seven of hearts, and Nevaeh has a ten and a five of clubs. The card we can see from the dealer is a queen of diamonds. He peeks to make sure he doesn’t have Blackjack, and when he continues, I know he doesn’t. I explain what he just did to Nevaeh and she nods.
I tap my finger on the table, signaling for the dealer to hit me, and he hands me a nine of clubs, putting me at eighteen.
“Umm…” Nevaeh chews on her bottom lip.
“Remember, the goal is to get as close to twenty-one as possible without going over.”
“Right, hit me,” she says. “Wait! I mean…” She taps her fingers on the table, remembering what I told her about using the hand signal. The dealer hands her a card, and with what she already has, she has twenty-one. When she adds them up, she squeals in excitement, and the dealer and I both have to force ourselves not to laugh. The waitress hands us our drinks, but Nevaeh doesn’t notice. She’s too excited at the possibility of winning.