“Wednesday.”
“Casino Wednesday. Setup starts in thirty.”
“Shit!” I muttered.
For a moment, I considered cancelling. Usually, the monthly party was something I looked forward to. Hell, the whole thing had been my idea from the start. Today, I was dead tired. All I wanted to do was call Tucker, confess everything and beg for forgiveness. Then inspiration struck me.
“Hey, Ev?”
“Yeah, man?”
“You know how you’re always saying you guys can never thank me enough for starting Casino Night? I think I’ve just thought of the perfect way to express your gratitude.”
And maybe, if my plan worked, it would be enough to convince her she should forgive me for even thinking about helping my father destroy her efforts. Because I was going to have to tell her about it.
Trust, respect and truth.
Tucker
Don’t be mad.
I narrowed my eyes at Joey’s text.
I’m not mad, I typed back.
Liar.
First you take off on me, now you’re calling me names?
You’re punctuating your texts, he pointed out.
So?
Do you always do that?
Only when I need to.
You mean when you’re mad?
I’M NOT MAD.
Then stop yelling at me.
What kind of guy just sleeps with a girl, then runs off? Quickly, I added sideways winking smiley face, then hit send.
What kind of guy calls too soon?
The kind that doesn’t love ’em and leave ’em.
Ouch. Is that still the kind of guy you think I am?
I pictured his green eyes, filled with mock hurt, and grinned.
Maybe.
I want to make it up to you.
What kind of girl do you think I am?
Nothing like the kind I’m used to.
I paused. Something about the words made a blush creep up from underneath my shirt, and I snuck a glance at Liandra. She had her nose stuck in a magazine. Another text from Joey pinged through.
Let me make it up to you. Meet me in an hour.
An hour!
Please.
Fine.
“You can wipe that smug look off your face,” my roommate grumbled. “I can feel your happiness from all the way over here.”
* * *
Joey’s three-word text, sent in all caps, NOT QUITE FORMAL, had caused me to dress, undress and dress again no less than three times. When I’d asked him directly where we were going, he’d told me it was a surprise. When I’d wanted to know what kind of get together, he’d simply said shenanigans.
The problem was that when he said NOT QUITE FORMAL, I didn’t know where the emphasis was. Did he mean it sarcastically? As in it was going to be the exact opposite of anything formal? Or did he mean it literally? As in it very nearly was formal?
“Not quite formal,” I muttered. “I should just stay home.”
I applied a thin coat of shiny gloss to my lips. Truthfully, I felt the need to prove that I was fine with him ignoring me for a whole day. And if dolling myself up and going out with him was what I had to do, then it’s what I would do.
Liandra walked in as I was on my way out, and grinned as she eyed me up and down.
“Oh, man,” she said, “He is going to suffer.”
“I just want to look nice.”
“Uh-huh. If you just wanted to look nice, you’d wear the dress he sent.”
I pretended the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. “I’m still not keeping that.”
“Uh-huh,” Liandra said again.
I ignored her and did a little spin. “So it’s good?”
I’d felt like hell all day, so I’d made an effort.
On the bottom, I wore a pair of hip-hugging, pinstriped pants. On the top, I’d put on a pink satin top that scooped to my lower back and was held together by a single, gold chain at my shoulder blades. My hair was out of its usual ponytail or braid, and I’d blow-dried it into a cascade of red waves. Aside from the lip gloss, the only make up I’d decided to use was a touch of mascara.
“It’s really too bad that I’m walking, or I’d throw in some spiked heels, too,” I said.
“You could ride with Joey.”
“Hell, no. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.”
“Hmm.” Liandra looked down at my feet and sighed. “At least your toenails are painted.”
* * *
It was only a ten-minute walk from campus to the address Joey had given me, and I arrived a full fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. I stood outside with my arms crossed over my chest, surveying the house. It was one of the older homes that was so close to Trans U that no one except students would ever live there. The exterior and lawn were in poor repair, and someone had decorated the porch with a wind chime made of twine and beer cans. It screamed of frat party.
I debated whether or not to turn around and go home. But I waited too long, and got noticed.
“You comin’ in, honey?” called deep voice from one of the windows.
I rolled my eyes and decided it was probably going to be one of those nights when I requested Liandra to fabricate an emergency that brought me home early.
“Leave her alone, Ev. At least she’s bringing up the property value,” yelled a second masculine voice.
With a big sigh I climbed the steps and let myself in the front door.
I stood in the entryway with wide eyes.
The scene in front of me was not what I had expected at all. I’d been thinking of cranked music of the top forty variety, maybe some guys chugging beer, and a whole whack of girls pretending they could dance.
Instead, I felt like I’d walked into a Bond movie.
Professional grade card tables lined one wall, and girls in bow ties and white blouses were dealing hands to waiting players. A roulette wheel and a craps table took up space in what I imagined was the dining area. Expensive-looking, carved leather sofas dotted the room, and a girl in a feathered and sequined leotard served drinks from a tray. Muted jazz music permeated the room from hidden speakers.
I surveyed the more-than-makeshift gambling hall, taking in the people as well as the decor.
It was mostly guys in dress shirts paired with decent pants. There were a few girls, dressed exclusively in skimpy dresses that might pass for formal wear. In the dark. In Vegas.
I scanned the party, looking for Joey. What would he be wearing? My mouth watered a little at the thought of him decked out in a tuxedo, and my cheeks heated up. My eyes raked over the room until they found him.
He was dressed in tan pants and a white, collared shirt with a skinny black tie. I smiled to myself, thinking that he looked like a little boy trying on his dad’s clothes.
Well, almost like a little boy, I corrected.
Because even from across the room, I could see the outline of the lean muscles that lined his chest. The view made my heart speed up and reminded me immediately that without a doubt, underneath that not-too-grown-up outfit, was a very grown-up man. His face was lined with a day’s worth of stubble, and my fingers itched to run over it.
I belatedly noticed the girl attached to his arm, and all my irritation at him came flooding back.
She was a bottle-blonde, and toothpick skinny. Her dress—a butt cheek baring, zebra-print number—clung to her tiny body, while she clung to Joey. I narrowed my eyes at the two of them. He leaned close to her, whispered something and grinned. His dimple deepened as the girl nodded her head, making her enormous hoop earrings shake back and forth.
I knew what I was feeling. Dangerously irrational jealousy. The kind that made me want to rip the earrings from her lobes.
So much for letting it go.
As another waitress in a spangled suit sauntered by with her tray of beverages, I snagged one.
The girl’s mouth opened. “What—”
I cut her off with a look and she scurried away, feathers wigg
ling and sequins shimmering. I downed the drink—gin and juice, I thought—and set the glass down on a nearby table.
Then I strode over to Joey and his arm candy. Up close, I could see he was still wearing the effects of whatever he’d got up to all day. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw a little more slack than usual. I pushed down my immediate feelings of concern.
“Hello, friend,” I greeted sweetly, then smiled at the girl. “Hello friend’s friend.”
“Hi,” said the girl with an uncertain glance at Joey.
Joey’s eyes widened as he took in my outfit, and he stammered out an introduction. “Paula, this is—”
“I’m Tucker,” I interrupted with my best simpering smile. “I’m new.”
“Yeah you are,” agreed someone from behind me. “Glad to see you accepted my invitation.”
I turned around to face a compact, thick-jawed, blond man. He was carefully dressed in an expensive-looking suit, with perfectly styled hair, and he had an amused grin on his face.
“Your invitation?” Joey sounded confused.
“Sure, J-man. I see a hot redhead standing on the lawn, I’m naturally inclined to invite her in,” said the other man.
I snapped my fingers. “Ev!”
He bowed deeply. “At your service.”
“Thanks for not leaving me stranded,” I said as I gave Joey a look.
“Evan, this is Tucker. She’s my…” Joey trailed off, and I wondered what he’d been thinking about saying.
The big, blond guy slapped him on the shoulder.
“Dude, you don’t get two dates,” Evan said. “There’s barely enough girls to go around as it is. We don’t need you using your considerable powers to double dip.”
He winked at me.
“In that case, I’d be happy to be your date, Evan,” I offered. “After all, Joey and I are just friends.”
“Your loss, man,” he said to Joey and proffered his arm.
“Oooh. Do you play football?” I asked as I squeezed his bicep with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Evan laughed and led me away.
It was harder than I wanted to admit to walk through the room on Evan’s arm. My eyes longed to seek out Joey, and I had to force them not to. When I did spot him accidentally, he would look away quickly and pretend he wasn’t watching me, too.
Jerk, I thought. And that’s being generous.
I refused any more drinks. The last thing I needed was to further unbalance my apparently already unpredictable emotions.
“Earth to Tucker,” Evan was saying to me.
“Sorry,” I muttered, and tried to pay attention to what he’d been telling me about the structure of the home-based casino.
But after just a second, I found myself staring at Joey again. I noticed that he’d traded in the waif-like blonde for a buxom brunette.
Evan put his finger on my chin and turned my face toward his.
“I see that lover boy over there has already gotten to you,” he said with good-humored sadness. “I swear if I ever find out what it is that Joey’s got…I’m bottling it and selling it and moving to Cabo with the profits.”
I laughed. “I swear to you, Evan, he’s so far from my type, it’s not even funny.”
“I so wish that I could believe that,” he teased.
I sighed, wondering exactly what it was I was doing at the party, and why the hell Joey had bothered to invite me.
“Damn,” Evan said. “Even your pouty face is cute.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Stop pretending to flirt with me. I’m even less your type than Joey is mine.”
“I thought I was doing a pretty good job,” he replied with a wink.
“Nope. You’re failing miserable,” I told him.
“What gave me away?”
“You haven’t tried to grab my ass once.” I smiled. “Why are you tormenting Joey, anyway?”
“Why are you?” he countered.
“I’ve got a list,” I said.
“Me, too,” Evan agreed with a grin. “He’s too handsome. He’s too rich. And aside from that…he’s just too self-confident. Someone has to keep him in line. Might as well be me.”
“Charm doesn’t work on this one.” Joey had joined us, and he seemed to be temporarily alone.
Wonder of wonders.
“Evan’s charm works just fine,” I argued. “It’s yours I’m immune to.”
Evan laughed and slung a thick arm around my waist. Joey’s face went dark, and I held in a satisfied grin.
“I think we’ve already proven that’s not true.”
My face heated up. Was it from embarrassment? Or anger? I wasn’t sure.
“If you’re talking about the bar the other night…don’t flatter yourself. I was tipsy.”
“Evan, would you excuse us please?” Joey asked in a strained voice.
“Sure. If it’s all right with Tucker?”
I nodded, and Evan kissed me on the cheek before he sauntered away. Joey waited until his friend was completely out of view before rounding on me with a furious expression on his face.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’m at a party. Same as you. So what?”
“Why are you so mad at me?” he demanded.
“I told you already. I’m not mad.”
“You’re a shitty liar. And lying is a shitty way to treat your friends.”
“You’ve been ignoring me all night. That’s also shitty way to treat your friends.”
“So you’re punishing me by walking around with Evan all night, pretending I don’t exist?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked. “You’ve had some other girl on your arm since the second I got here. A few other girls, actually. What did you want me to do? Follow you around like a puppy?”
Joey grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the crowd and into the hallway.
“Tucker, I just wanted a chance to—” He cut himself off and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“For which part? This hot and cold routine is getting really old, Joey.”
“I’m trying,” he told me in a much quieter voice.
“Trying to what?” I replied.
He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched a fist. “This isn’t the place to talk about this.”
“Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your friends?”
“No. Can we just…start the night over?” he asked.
“Start it over how?”
“I’m not going to deny the fact that I’m attracted to you, Tucker. But I’m not going to do anything about it.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or relieved. Joey rolled his eyes at my expression.
“You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t attracted to me, too.”
He took a step closer, and my skin began to tingle. I tried to move away and banged into the wall.
“All right,” I admitted with a red face as I shoved him away. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not willing to become nothing more than a notch on your bedpost.”
“I get it,” he said. “But the truth is, Tucker, I have no interest in dating you casually.”
I had that weird feeling again—the one right between offended and relieved.
“Gee, thanks,” I said in a voice that reflected both.
He sighed. “Tucker, I don’t date. At all. I don’t have relationships. And I’m not ready to start one. Not until we’ve had a chance to talk. And here’s not the place to do it. I won’t be happy if you and I just—”
I cut him off before I could think too closely on what we might “just” do.
“We can continue to be friends. And we can talk. But I’m still royally pissed off at you for disappearing for a whole day.”
Joey smiled the wide smile that exposed the dimple in his cheek. My heart tightened.
What is wrong with me? I wondered helplessly.
He held out his hand, and I stared at it, fighting back tears. Joey didn’t seem to notice
my conflicting emotions. He slid his fingers between mine, and the ache in my chest became a burn.
“If you can just temporarily forgive me for being a bad friend,” Joey said. “I really might be able to make everything up to you.”
“I doubt it,” I muttered.
He smiled. “There are some people I want you to meet. And I won’t leave your side for a second.”
* * *
Joey was as good as his word, and for the rest of the evening, he held my hand and introduced me to too many people to remember. But it wasn’t until the evening was almost over that he let me in on his plan.
As it began to get later, the crowd thinned out, and then most of the gamblers left, and before long the dealers and cocktail waitresses were gone, too. Only five guys—including Evan and Joey—were left behind to count the stacks of chips.
Joey picked one up and handed it to me. It was red, emblazoned with a fox head on one side and the capital letter C on the other.
“It’s the Roman numeral for one hundred,” Joey explained, and then winked. “And the fox is for me.”
“Everyone is playing for fake money?” I asked, surprised.
Evan and the other guys chuckled from their spots at the table.
“No,” Joey said with another of his dimpled grins. “We’re running a legitimately cash operation. But it’s not strictly legal, so we make an effort to keep it looking a little more like fun and a little less like business. Everyone buys in at the beginning of the month, and we bring in the chips to compensate them. Anything they win they can either turn in for a pay out on Sunday when we do the next month’s buy in, or they can reinvest.”
“Enterprising,” I observed dryly.
“Ask him how much he made tonight,” Evan suggested, and one of the other guys smacked him in the back of the head.
I rolled my eyes, and in an overly obliging tone, asked, “How much did you make tonight, Joey?”
“Probably six grand easy, after we factor in the costs,” he replied with a shrug.
“And you split that?” I couldn’t hide the fact that I was actually pretty impressed.
Joey laughed. “No. That’s each.”
“Almost each,” Evan grumbled. “J-man takes a slightly bigger cut because he fronted the money for start-up costs.”
I was stunned. Thirty thousand. In one night. In four hours.
Bad Reputation Page 16
