by Nell Stark
Hazel was one of the most conservative players Nova had ever seen, which led her to the easy conclusion that she had been dealt at least one ace, if not two. Susannah had folded, and silently, Nova encouraged Mary and Priscilla to do the same. Had Hazel been a stranger, Nova might have suspected her of lulling them in with her timid play, only to make a bid for control of the table. But unless she had completely misread her, Hazel was working with a very strong hand.
At long last, Priscilla slid a green chip into the middle of the table. “I know I shouldn’t do this,” she told Nova, her broad Texas vowels flowing like molasses, “but I have to know what in hell she’s got!”
“I can always show you,” Hazel said. Her speech was quick and quiet and clipped, the way Nova imagined a frightened rabbit would sound if it ever spoke.
“You’re not supposed to do that, remember?” said Mary. “Nova said we should never give our opponents free information.”
Nova smothered a smile. It was gratifying to see her lessons being absorbed. “It’s true. Some players will show you their cards if everyone else folds, but I don’t recommend it.” She burned the top card in the deck and paused for dramatic effect before finally revealing the river card. The king of diamonds.
Hazel looked down at her cards, and then at her cheat sheet. A moment later, she gasped. Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Could you be any more obvious?”
“I’m sorry.” When Hazel actually clutched the pearl necklace at her throat, Nova couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled out of her throat. Instead, she tried to turn it into a convincing cough.
“Pardon me. Your bet, Hazel.”
After some deliberation, Hazel pushed an orange chip into the pot. It was the largest bet anyone had made this afternoon.
“Fifty dollars?” Priscilla looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. “You’ll bleed me dry!”
Only after Susannah rolled her eyes and Mary laughed heartily did Hazel smile. Not for the first time, Nova wondered how she had become part of Priscilla’s inner circle. Brash and outspoken, Priscilla had said more than once that she admired women with “spine.” How did Hazel fit in?
Grumbling, she tossed her own orange chip onto the pile and flipped over her cards. “Two pair, aces and eights. Now spill the beans.”
Hazel revealed the king of clubs and the ace of spades. “Full house,” she stammered. “I think.”
“You think?” Priscilla snorted. “I should’ve folded early.”
“Congratulations, Hazel.” Nova gave her an encouraging smile as she pushed the chips in her direction.
The doorbell chimed. Susannah started to stand, but Priscilla gestured for her to stop. “Let the butler get it. That’s his job.”
Nova reached for the muck pile and began to reshuffle. “When a conservative player starts to make big bets, it’s often true that they have a good hand. But it’s also possible that they’ve been trying to lull you into a false sense of security about their playing style. They might not have anything and could be trying to scare you off.” She turned to Priscilla. “When you’re holding an ace and there’s one on the table, it’s hard to let go of your hand. I probably would’ve called, too.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?” she said grumpily.
Nova pressed the heel of her palm to her sternum with a resounding thump. “You wound me. I only speak the tru”—she almost choked on that last syllable as Vesper came into view around the corner—“th.”
Today, Vesper had forgone a power suit in favor of a black and ivory scalloped print dress that flared slightly just above her knees. The attire lent her a lighthearted air that was only magnified by her smile. She seemed in a good mood, but that could also be an act. In professional mode, Vesper was nearly impossible to read.
“How’s the lesson going?” she asked after exchanging pleasantries with the women.
“Nova’s a wonderful teacher,” Hazel said earnestly.
“I have half a mind to enter this World Series she keeps talking about,” said Priscilla.
“Why not?” Nova said. “There are a lot of events, some of which aren’t very expensive in the grand scheme of things. The five-thousand-dollar hold ’em game is the day after tomorrow. That’s half the buy-in amount of the main event.”
“Will you be entering that one?” asked Mary.
“Absolutely.” Nova tried to sound confident.
In the ensuing silence, Priscilla stood. “Girls, I think I’m going to take a little nap before our evening festivities.” She turned to Vesper. “Nova continues to refuse any compensation for these lessons. Will you work on her for me?”
A completely inappropriate reply leapt into mind, and Nova clenched her jaw against it. Her brain insisted on painting a vivid image of exactly how Vesper could work on her—preferably in bed, naked. Her heart thumped almost painfully and her mouth went dry as she reached for the memory of the ocean in an effort to keep her arousal hidden.
“I’ll certainly do my best.” Vesper sounded vaguely amused. Nova didn’t dare look at her. Was it possible she’d had a similar thought?
“In the meantime,” Vesper continued, “is there anything you need from me? Are you still happy with your dinner reservation for six thirty?”
“That’s fine. Go relax. Find us at the blackjack table later.”
Nova followed Vesper down the hallway and couldn’t help but admire how the fabric of her dress hugged the slight flare of her hips. Blinking hard, she tried to focus. For the past week, she had woken up periodically throughout the night from vague, anxious dreams. The tournament was psyching her out even before it had begun. She knew she should go down to the poker hall and practice, but the thought of putting in more time for measly money made her want to slink back to her suite and curl into a ball beneath the covers. Where were her killer instincts? When had she begun to fear the rush instead of crave it? Had she lost her urge to walk the knife edge between genius and insanity? When she thought back to all her nights spent in front of the computer, alternating coffee with Red Bull as she lorded over multiple online tables simultaneously, she felt as though she were remembering someone else’s life. What did that mean?
All she really wanted was to share a quiet drink with Vesper and forget all about poker for a little while. She wanted to feel the way she’d felt when Vesper was confiding in her—like a real human being, instead of a desperate grinder or a stone-faced statistician. But Vesper was probably too busy, and a simple date wouldn’t help to advance her career. Nova was more resigned now than bitter at having played the role of Vesper’s bargaining chip, but the thought still stung.
When they emerged into the corridor, Vesper turned to face her. “I have some bad news. Management needs your suite. Right away. I’m sorry.”
Nova took an involuntary step backward and her stomach began to churn queasily. She was suddenly homeless. The tournament would begin in two days. Damn it, she should have expected this to happen. During her first few days in the suite, she hadn’t even unpacked, certain that at any moment she would be asked to leave. Over time, she had grown complacent, and that was no one’s fault but her own. Not only would she have to start depleting her bankroll by paying for a room—she would first have to find a vacant one. Even the Motel Sixes might be booked at this point.
“Oh. Okay.” Struggling not to show her dismay, she tried to muster up a smile. Vesper had been kind enough to comp her the suite. The last thing she wanted to do was to appear ungrateful. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me have it for the past few weeks.”
“What will you do now?”
“Hunt for a cheap hotel. Guess I’d better get to it.” She raised her hand in an awkward farewell and started to turn.
“I have a different idea.”
Nova raised her gaze to Vesper’s and was surprised to see a blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh?”
“I have a sleeper sofa in my living room. You can stay there, if you’d like. It even has a
view of the mountains.”
Nova couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She felt a little dizzy, and her head was ringing. Vesper was inviting her into her home? To stay? Her instinct was to accept, but… “I don’t want to intrude,” she heard herself say.
“I’m rarely there. You won’t be intruding.”
She tried to picture it: lying awake on a thin sofa mattress, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Would she get any rest at all, knowing that Vesper was asleep just around the corner? Probably not. Did she mind? Definitely not. The real question was why Vesper had made the offer in the first place. What was in it for her? Nova felt like a novice playing at chess, unable to see enough moves ahead. But even if Vesper did have some ulterior motive, did that really matter? She was offering Nova something she needed—a place to sleep—and something she wanted: a chance for them to spend time together. Why look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth?
“You’re very generous. Thank you.” She focused back on Vesper and smiled. “On one condition, though—that you let me chip in for some groceries at the very least.”
“This will sound pathetic, but I eat almost all of my meals here.”
“You wouldn’t if you’d ever had my frittata.”
Vesper arched one eyebrow. “Just promise me you’ll wash the dust out of the skillet, first.”
“Not much of a cook?”
“I think it’s an occupational hazard when you’re around free food all day.” Vesper began to move toward the elevator. “I have a few hours of downtime before I need to be back later tonight. I can take you over to the apartment now, if you want.”
“I just need a few minutes to pack up.”
“Text me when you’re ready, and we’ll meet in the lobby.”
Half an hour later, as Nova walked past the World Tree Pool toward the front desk, she still felt like pinching herself. Had she really gone from living in a hotel suite, to being homeless, to being Vesper’s roommate, all in the course of a single conversation?
“Checking out, please,” she told the platinum blonde behind the counter. Not so long ago, she would have flirted with her, but the prospect held no appeal now. Maybe the thought should have given her pause, but it didn’t. She just wanted to finish up quickly so that she could go home with Vesper.
Even the thought sounded titillating in her own head, but there was so much more to it than the distant possibility that they might end up in bed together. She wanted to see how Vesper arranged her living space, how she decorated her walls, what kind of items she kept close by. She wanted to know whether Vesper snored and how she rolled her toothpaste.
The intimacy of that particular detail brought her up short. You’re her guest, not her lover.
“You’re all set, Ms. Novarro,” said the blonde, interrupting her self-recrimination. “Please come again soon.”
Nova thanked her cursorily and retreated to the nearest bench. The lobby was the busiest she’d ever seen it, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Large “World Series of Poker” banners had been strung between the massive pillars and over the front desk. Valhalla was one of the three casinos hosting the tournament, and this would be its first year hosting the final table of the main event.
“Ready to go?”
Nova turned at the sound of Vesper’s voice. It was a little disconcerting to be looking up at her, and she quickly stood. “Ready when you are.”
“We can take a shortcut to the bus stop,” Vesper said as she led Nova toward a side door flanked by two potted plants and labeled Restricted. It opened onto a stifling corridor barely wide enough for the two of them to walk abreast. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure,” Nova said, caught off guard by the non sequitur.
“Sure.” Vesper gave her an exasperated look. “Does that mean, ‘Yes, I’m starving,’ or ‘No, but I want to be agreeable’?”
Nova felt herself grin. She loved how easy it was to fall into banter with Vesper. “Can’t it be, ‘Yes, I’m starving and I want to be agreeable’?”
“In that case, we’ll stop by the best Thai takeout spot in the city, which happens to be right around the corner from my apartment.”
Nova’s stomach chose that exact moment to gurgle loudly. Only when Vesper laughed did Nova realize she had never heard that sound before. “Dinner’s on me,” she said. “I’ll have whatever you recommend.”
“The drunken noodles are to die for.”
The hallway culminated in another door, which stuck slightly as Vesper pushed it open. Sunlight streamed in, bringing with it a dry blast of heat. Nova stepped outside, took a breath, and coughed as the air seared her lungs.
“Damn. How do you get used to this?”
“I’m from Texas. I didn’t have to. Come on. The bus stop will have shade.”
“I can handle the heat,” Nova insisted, not wanting to sound like a wimp.
“This is the desert, surfer girl. When there’s shade, you stand in it.”
“Surfer girl, huh?” As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Nova realized they had emerged onto a narrow side street. She switched her duffel to her other hand and let Vesper guide her toward the far end of the street. “Want to hear something pathetic? This is the first time I’ve been off the Strip since I got here.”
Vesper smiled. “You’re not alone in that, believe me. Oh, good timing.”
A bus marked “Spring Valley” was lumbering down the street, and Nova picked up her pace alongside Vesper’s. They were the last people on board, but there was more than enough space for them to sit. Vesper waited for her to choose a spot and then took the seat immediately next to hers. What did that mean?
“Is it a long ride?” Nova asked, trying to sound normal even though their thighs were brushing.
“About ten minutes. Were you serious about having me order for you?”
“Sure.” Nova immediately caught herself. “Which means, ‘Yes, order me whatever you think is best.’”
“Mild, medium, or hot?”
Nova just grinned. As Vesper rolled her eyes and took out her phone, Nova silently thanked her Spanish heritage for a high tolerance to spice. No matter how crazy Vesper decided to get with her order, she would be able to handle it.
After tapping briefly on the screen, Vesper returned her phone to her purse. To distract herself from wanting to reach for Vesper’s hand, Nova looked out the window. As the bus moved down Flamingo away from the Strip, the landscape changed quickly. The gleaming high-rises of the casinos gave way to strip malls and shopping centers. Every time they crossed a new side street, Nova would see an advertisement for a different housing community. The bus’s windshield revealed the lofty Spring Mountains, their peaks marching toward the southwest.
The people around them seemed mostly local, with the exception of a few tourists who had chosen to wander off the beaten path. Many of the locals wore uniforms from one or another casino. Vesper was the most elegantly dressed on board. Other casino hosts didn’t take the bus home, Nova realized. They probably leased fancy cars.
Suddenly, Vesper’s fingers were stroking the back of her hand. Nova nearly jumped out of her skin, but the touch was as brief as it was unexpected. Normally, she would have interpreted any physical contact from another woman as a sign of interest, or maybe even an invitation, but with Vesper, she wanted to be especially careful.
“What are you thinking?” Vesper asked.
Nova wasn’t going to confess that she had been thinking about how different Vesper’s priorities must be from those of her colleagues. “I was wondering when you first came to Vegas,” she said instead, wanting to put together the pieces she knew of Vesper’s life.
The bus wasn’t very full, and they weren’t sitting in close proximity to anyone else, but Vesper still looked around warily before replying. “I was nineteen.”
Nova rested one palm lightly on Vesper’s knee, watching her face to make sure her touch was welcome. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Of course.”
“Besides, here we are.” Vesper pressed the button that signaled the driver to stop. “I always use that grocery store as my landmark.”
“Oh. Good. Right.” Nova felt silly for not paying more attention to the route. This was how she would have to commute to the casino from now on, after all. Because she was Vesper’s new roommate. The thought still blew her mind.
Nova followed her down the steps and back out into the oven. As Vesper led her down a side street, she pointed out the pharmacy, the Laundromat, and a burger place that should be avoided at all cost because of a chronic history of food poisoning. The next door down, however, was the storefront for Bright Sun Thai. Its air was redolent of beef and peanut oil and garlic, and Nova’s mouth immediately began to water. The restaurant area boasted only four tables, all of which were occupied. Behind them, the counter had been painted with a cheerful orange sun, caught in the act of rising from a turquoise ocean.
The young woman at the cash register greeted Vesper by name, but when she would have pulled out her wallet, Nova stopped her with a light touch on her arm. “My treat, remember?”
They carried the warm paper bags around the corner, where Vesper paused at a rectangular adobe building next to the local gas station and car wash. “This is it.” She suddenly seemed a little shy. “I’m on the top floor. Hope you don’t mind stairs.”
“I’ve been riding too many elevators. Stairs will be good for me.”
The front door had been painted aqua blue several years ago, and it could have used a fresh coat. Its hinges stuck a little as Vesper turned the key and pushed, but the hallway into which Nova followed her was brightly lit and smelled like Lysol. She followed Vesper up the wooden staircase, which needed a new coat of varnish but otherwise seemed sound. Four flights later, she trailed Vesper onto the landing and turned with her toward the door marked 3B. This door swung open smoothly onto a corridor painted the color of terracotta. Automatically, she toed off her sandals on the rug.
