by Nell Stark
“Here you go.” Vesper extended the reassembled remote.
“Thanks.”
“Is your roommate still visiting?”
“Emily?” Nova felt her face go hot. Hopefully the blush wasn’t visible beneath her tan. “Oh, she only stayed until the end of last weekend.”
“I see. Well, I hope she had a good time.”
Throughout the past week, Nova had often found herself hoping that Vesper’s silence was indicative of jealousy. Jealousy was good. It meant she cared. But there hadn’t been anything but mild curiosity and cool professionalism in her question and response. Had Nova misjudged her interest entirely?
As she mentally grasped for a response, Vesper’s gaze fixed on the television. “When was this—two years ago?”
“Three.” Nova sank into one of the armchairs, cradling the remote as gently as if it were one of the baby chicks she’d held way back in kindergarten. Her head was spinning, and not just from Vesper’s nearness. This conversation felt completely surreal. Vesper was acting like nothing was the matter—like she hadn’t spent the last week avoiding her. Like she hadn’t sat in this room clutching a rum and orange juice for purchase while haltingly telling her life story.
Suddenly angry, Nova hit the pause button, forcing Vesper to look at her. Vesper might like playing mind games, but she wasn’t interested. “I’m not sure why you’re here. Is there something you need?”
“Yes.” Vesper sat on the couch and smoothed her skirt along her legs. She had beautiful legs, slender and toned, but they were too pale. She was trapped, Nova realized—trapped inside that skirt, inside this building, inside this city. All day, every day. Had she forgotten the tickle of grass against her feet, or kiss of the tide on her toes? How long had it been since she’d had a vacation? Forever?
As the question crossed her mind, her anger melted away. Vesper had spent the past ten years fighting to survive, to make a place for herself in the world. Las Vegas might be a gilded cage, but she had bent its bars to her will. A daydream materialized before her mind’s eye: buying two first class plane tickets to San Francisco; driving Vesper to the beach at Año Nuevo; walking along the sand as the surf frothed and bubbled around their ankles; teaching her the basics of surfing. But as quickly as it had come, the vision disappeared. She would have to win a bracelet to make that a reality.
“I need to apologize to you.”
Nova struggled to refocus. “Apologize?”
Vesper nodded. “Last week, when I got angry…that was about me. I took out my own anxieties on you. I know you were concerned, and I appreciate it. I’m sorry I blew up.” She leaned forward. “You didn’t deserve that, especially after listening so patiently to me the night before.”
Still chagrined at her own anger, Nova wanted to reassure her. “It was a stressful time. I understand.” She paused, uncertain how much to say, before soldiering on. “Biz hasn’t tried anything since then, has he?”
“Thankfully, he’s been gone for most of the week on business. Though he’ll return in a few days and stay through the World Series.”
“Great,” she said dryly. “Do you know his events? I can shadow him and try to knock him out, if you’d like.”
Vesper laughed, and it almost sounded genuine. “That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate your chivalry. And no, I don’t know what he’s planning.” She cocked her head. “What about you?”
“My plans?” Nova shrugged and looked away. “I figure I’ll enter several of the events with small buy-ins during the first few days, see how I do, and take it from there. Even if I don’t win a bracelet right away, I might be able to add to my bankroll. And then there’s the main event, of course. Royal Flush is picking up the tab on that one.”
The plan didn’t sound very convincing, now that she was describing it out loud. It was a scattershot approach, throwing seeds into the wind and hoping one of them took root. The games with low buy-ins would be packed with amateurs for that very reason, and she could hear Mac’s warning in her head. The later games weeded out most of the low-hanging fruit with their steep buy-ins, but then, of course, she would have to risk more of her bankroll on a single event.
“Fair enough.” Vesper was looking at her curiously. “But you still haven’t explained how the ocean sounds fit in.”
Nova felt her cheeks get warm. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Vesper arched an eyebrow. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”
“No. Of course not.” Nova struggled for the right words until she realized what she was doing. The truth was the truth. If Vesper thought she was an idiot, then she could leave. Right? Right. “So, my mentality is…problematic for live poker. I’m not patient enough. And as you said last week, my face is an open book.”
Vesper started to speak, but Nova raised one hand to forestall her. “I’ve been practicing—trying to bide my time and show no emotion—but it doesn’t come naturally to me. One of the players at that cash game, Mac…I’ve seen him around town a few times, since then. He’s kind of taken me under his wing. I guess. At any rate, we were chatting a few days ago, and I told him about how surfing is my hobby, and how it makes me feel.”
Vesper leaned forward. “How does it make you feel?”
Nova forced herself to meet Vesper’s eyes. They were green and deep and still, like the leaves of a redwood grove. The impulse to protect her own secrets was almost as strong as the urge to bare her soul.
“When I’m in the ocean, I feel calm. At peace. Patient, even, while I’m waiting for the perfect wave to gather.” She shrugged, self-conscious. “He suggested that I try a similar approach with poker, mentally. That I might have more success that way.”
Vesper stared off into the distance as she mulled that over. Nova found herself captivated by the graceful column of her neck and the shadows beneath her jawline. She wanted to kiss her everywhere—to coax heat and color into every inch of her pale skin. What would Vesper do if she got up right now, straddled her where she sat, and indulged that desire? Push her away? Pull her closer? Turn her head in indifference?
“And?” Nova blinked to find Vesper refocused on her. “Has it made a difference?”
“I’m not sure yet. I mean, I do find the waves soothing. I just don’t know if what I’m doing will end up helping me improve.”
“What about visualizing? Do you ever do that?”
Nova grinned. “Sure. Every time I’m dealt a new hand, I picture pocket rockets.”
Vesper extended one leg and nudged Nova’s calf muscle with her toes. The movement was surprisingly familiar—almost intimate—and Nova sucked in a quick breath. If Vesper heard, she gave no indication.
“Not your cards. You can’t control those. I meant visualizing yourself staying calm and showing no emotion. Maybe you could do it in front of a mirror?”
Nova swallowed a snarky comment about voyeurism. “That’s a thought.”
Silence fell between them, then—an awkward pause that amplified the tension in the room. Nova stared down at the faint scars on her knees, feeling as though she were a teenager again. Under normal circumstances, she would have done what she usually did in the presence of a beautiful woman who piqued her interest: flirt. Not that she was all that good at it anymore, if she were being honest with herself.
After her junior year lab partner had precipitated her coming-out epiphany, the rest of college had been marked by a parade of women. Most of the female members of the Gay/Straight Alliance had considered her fresh meat, and she’d been happy to oblige. None of them lasted more than a month or two, right up through graduation. She’d had a fling with a barista during the intervening summer before graduate school but had returned to campus unattached. Then, she’d discovered the Women in Science Program, and most of her current roommates. Who needed to flirt when there was always someone to scratch the itch at home?
But being out of practice wasn’t her only problem. When she thought back to how she had objectified Vesper at their first m
eeting, Nova wanted to slap herself. She felt no better than Samuel or Biz, even though rationally, she knew she had never crossed the line. Still. Did Vesper want to be wanted? Sometimes, Nova thought so, but until she could be sure, she wasn’t going to risk aggravating the wound Biz had reopened.
Paralyzed. That’s what she was. Trapped by her own guilt. A wave of claustrophobia rose to choke her, and she quickly looked up, hoping to find relief in the spaciousness of the suite. Instinctually, she focused on Vesper, who was staring at her with a thoughtful expression. The panic did a cartwheel and turned into self-consciousness.
“Is something wrong?” She tried to make light of the moment. “Did I put my shirt on backward? Ever since they stopped putting tags on clothes, I’ve had real trouble.”
Vesper’s answering smile was distracted. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re fine. I just have a favor to ask.”
A favor. The phrase jarred her like seawater up her nose. Vesper said she had come to apologize, when really she had an ulterior motive. Nova could hear the echo of her words from their first real conversation at the bar. That’s how this business works, Vesper had said.
Business. Was that all she was to Vesper, even now? A transaction? A tiny cog in the wheel of her plan to rise to the status of superhost? More hurt by the prospect than she could have predicted, Nova remembered the crash of the ocean and tried to school her features.
“Oh? What is it?”
She must have done a decent job, because Vesper didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “This newest client of mine, Mrs. Beauregard, asked for private poker lessons for herself and her three best friends. The first person I thought of was you.”
For a split second, Nova felt honored. Then, she realized Vesper was probably just feeding her a line in the hopes that she would say yes. Not that she really had a choice. How could she turn down the woman who had been comping her a suite for weeks?
“Sure. No problem.”
“Great. How’s tomorrow?”
“Anytime is fine. Professional player, remember? No set schedule.”
A hint of her bitterness must have shone through, because Vesper’s eyes narrowed slightly. Nova concentrated on smiling and asking for details: timing, location, whether she would need to bring any equipment.
“I’ll provide everything. I think they’ll want to play in their suite, but I’ll double-check on that and the time.” She stood. “Can I text you in a little while?”
“Sure.” Nova tried not to say anything else, but somehow, “Anytime,” slipped out right afterward.
“Thanks again.”
Instead of skirting the outside of the coffee table, Vesper took the inside track. Their knees brushed as she passed by. Nova might have been pissed off and disappointed, but the fireworks flared nonetheless. She followed Vesper to the door and held it as she left. Her hair smelled faintly of lavender. Nova wanted to feel it brushing against her collarbone as they moved in synchrony. Naked.
Damn it.
“Good night.”
Vesper sounded so self-possessed. For one terrifying moment, Nova wanted to grab her by the shoulder, clutch a fistful of that hair with her other hand, and kiss her breathless. The polished veneer would slip away as Vesper melted into her embrace, a soft whimper rising from the back of her throat. She knew it would.
In another instant, the impulse had passed. It frightened Nova so much that she mumbled something vaguely approximating a good-bye and closed the door. Suddenly shaky, she sank to the floor, pulled up her knees, and rested her head in her palms. Her heartbeat was erratic and her head was pounding and she really, really didn’t want to be this worked up about a woman.
Not a woman. Vesper. Who saw her as a pawn in the game of chess she was playing with her superiors.
Sitting on the floor became too pathetic—and too uncomfortable—after a few minutes, so she pushed herself up and moved toward the bedroom. On the way, she pressed the Play button on her iPod. At the first whisper of waves against the shore, she felt her pulse begin to slow. Women would come and go, but the ocean would endure forever.
It should have been a comforting thought, but tonight, she just felt lonely.
Chapter Thirteen
Vesper surreptitiously checked her phone while listening to James whine. The weekly hosts’ meeting always devolved into a pissing contest, and with the World Series beginning the day after tomorrow, everyone was in a frenzy. Clients were popping up like gophers, wanting a last-minute piece of the action, and Valhalla was bursting at the seams.
“This guy is a textile mogul from Bangkok!” When sniggers greeted his announcement, James threw up his hands. “Laugh all you like, but he deserves a suite.”
Crickets. Vesper tuned out the ensuing chatter. All of her clients were cared for. The Hamiltons would return tomorrow night, as would Biz. The only one of her people at risk was Nova, but if she stayed quiet, maybe James would badger someone else out of a room.
She refreshed her email and glanced at the time. Nova’s third lesson with Priscilla had begun an hour ago, and she wanted to be there. Anywhere but here, but especially there. Vesper had sat in on the first lesson, where Nova had proven to be as patient a teacher as she was impatient the rest of the time. When it became clear that Hazel was never going to remember the ranking order of hands, she had helped her make a cheat sheet. When Susannah had triumphantly laid down a pair of kings without realizing she also had a flush, Nova hadn’t poked fun. And when Priscilla had asked about bluffing strategies, Nova had paused before turning to meet Vesper’s gaze full on for the first time that day. For once, her eyes had been unreadable—ironic, given what she had said next.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not very good. Vesper has a much better poker face. She could probably give us all some tips.”
The hint of challenge in her words, combined with her unusually avoidant behavior over the past few days, had piqued Vesper’s curiosity. Work kept her from attending the second lesson Priscilla had scheduled, but if she could make it out of here within the next hour, she might be able to catch the tail end of this one. She wanted to be attentive to her most important client, of course, but that wasn’t the only reason for her sense of urgency. Being around Nova was…nice.
No. That was absolutely the wrong word, because being around Nova made her feel like a comet hurtling toward the sun. When had she started to crave that feeling? And why? It wasn’t comfortable. It certainly wasn’t safe. And it wasn’t as though she knew how to manage it. Every time they were in the same room, the chemistry fizzled out into awkwardness. Just a few weeks ago, Nova had been so eager to make a move. Why was she holding back now? The attraction hadn’t disappeared—of that much, Vesper was certain.
She stabbed at a new email with her thumb more firmly than she had intended. The bigger question was why she was sitting back and letting Nova set the pace. If she wanted a fling, why not go get it? Because she never had? What about all the other times in her life when she’d taken a chance? Riding the elevator up to Samuel Chelton Jr.’s office. Feeling the blast of heat on her face as she’d climbed the steps of the Greyhound bus. Presenting her fake ID at the Sandia Casino when she’d applied to be a dealer. She had always possessed the courage to go after what she needed to survive. The thought of needing another person in that way was terrifying, but that wasn’t what was happening with Nova. Vesper didn’t need her, but she did want her. Why not be proactive and assertive now, then? Why not go after what she wanted, even if it was a luxury?
Over the years, there had been other women she had found attractive, but none had ever moved her to action. Nova stirred some essential part of her that had been locked in hibernation since she was sixteen, but just because her body was waking up, that didn’t mean she had to become emotionally involved. Besides, in a few weeks, Nova would be back on her beloved West Coast—with or without a bracelet. This could be the summer fling she’d grown up too quickly to have.
“Vesper!” James’s grating voice i
nterrupted her reverie. “What about this chick you have in one of the Midgards?” He glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand. “Novarro.”
Vesper’s shoulders tensed. “What about her?”
“I pulled her records.” He waved the paper in her face. “She’s a poker player who barely even plays here! Why the hell are you comping her a suite?”
“She’s the reigning champion of Royal Flush’s annual tournament.” Vesper spoke to give herself time to think. How hard should she fight for Nova? If she gave in, James might feel slightly in her debt—unless, of course, he made her look bad in front of her peers. Then he would feel macho and vindicated.
“And I’m the reigning champion of beer pong at my college fraternity,” he retorted. “Who gives a fuck?”
Vesper stared at him for several seconds, pretending to think, when in fact she had already made up her mind. She combed the fingers of her right hand through her hair, shaking out the silky ends against her shoulders. When he licked his lips, she knew he was distracted.
“You know, James, that’s fine. You can have the suite.” She glanced at her watch. “When does your client arrive?”
“Uh.” He seemed surprised that she hadn’t mounted a stronger opposition. “His flight lands at eight.”
“She’ll be out by five.” She scraped back her chair. “I’ll track her down now.”
“Thanks.” James still seemed confused. She smiled briefly at him before walking through the door, and then quickened her pace as soon as she reached the hallway. She had a legitimate reason to leave the meeting early, and she had denied James a clear victory. True, she had bad news to deliver to Nova, but she also had a solution in mind.
Hopefully, Nova would see it the same way.
*
Priscilla Beauregard seemed bored as she sat sipping her Tanqueray and tonic, but by now, Nova knew it was a front. Her eyes, framed by red rhinestone bifocals, missed nothing. At the moment, Nova suspected that she was trying to figure out just how strong a hand Hazel must have, since she was on the verge of seeing the river for the first time all afternoon. Instead of her usual move of folding after the flop, Hazel had called Priscilla’s ten-dollar bet to see the turn. Then, she had confounded everyone by re-raising Mary’s fifteen-dollar bet to twenty. The board was a motley rainbow: king of hearts, ace of spades, six of hearts, eight of clubs.
