When I told her about his promise to tell me what he did for a living, her curiosity quickly refocused, and she didn’t have a good outlook on it.
“Gotta be something illegal,” she said.
“If it’s something illegal, why would he tell me at all?”
She considered that for a millisecond. “Maybe it’s something illegal and he wants you to help him. I’ve been thinking more about that smuggling thing. Like that movie where that guy pays that girl to help him take pot across the border.”
I laughed. “You think he wants me to be a mule.”
“Is that what it’s called? Hey, it happens. And he has a boat. Drug smugglers use boats all the time.”
“Not everyone with a boat is a drug smuggler,” I said. “Plus, he never takes it out anywhere. It’s just a house on water.”
“Shit, I don’t know then. We’ll just wait and see.”
I didn’t say anything, but I was glad she had finally come to see that as the only option.
I changed the subject. “You haven’t gone outside to smoke all day. Are you quitting?”
She paused before answering, then picked up a shark-tooth necklace and fidgeted with it. “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“I guess.” She looked up at me with sad, worried eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Okay, if I tell you, please don’t let this get out.”
“I won’t. What is it?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
My eyes widened. “Why? And since when?”
The door chimed and a couple came in with two kids. The timing couldn’t have been worse. They didn’t stay long, though, and when they were gone, Rebecca picked up where my question left off.
“I didn’t get my period a few weeks ago like I should have. And I thought…I don’t know, I guess I was just in denial. But I’ve been feeling sick in the mornings. I thought maybe it was because I haven’t been getting enough sleep, but…I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you take a test?”
She hesitated before saying, “If I’m pregnant, it’s early. And…I just don’t want to know right now.”
It was her decision to wait, not mine, so I didn’t say anything about it. Had it been me, though, I would want to know right away.
“Did you say anything to Kyle?” I asked.
“No.” She started to cry, and grabbed one of the nearby beach towels that were for sale. “Fuck it. I’m using this.” She wiped her face and blew her nose into the towel. “The one time I give in and we don’t use a condom. He promised me he would pull out, but he didn’t.”
“Shit.”
“I know,” she said. “I shouldn’t have trusted him.”
I wanted to agree with her, but I didn’t say anything. I knew what it felt like to have trust betrayed, knew the guilt and self-blame that went along with it, so for the moment I just wanted to be supportive and comfort her in any way I could.
. . . . .
Drew called around five that afternoon and I stepped outside to talk to him. I had a feeling Rebecca would have been way too nosey, and with me going outside, she had no choice but to stay inside, so I was able to talk freely.
He asked me how the day had gone and after we got the small talk out of the way, his next statement slammed into me. “Pack a bag for an overnight stay.”
This was starting to sound like I’d gotten myself in deeper than I could handle. “If you’re thinking I’m going to spend the night with you, think again.”
“You’ll have your own bed, don’t worry. We’re going on a trip.”
“A trip.”
“Right.”
I turned around to look in the store, making sure Rebecca wasn’t trying to listen. “We’re going out of town together,” I said, a little mystified by how sure he sounded that I would agree to this.
“No matter how many different ways you put it, the answer is yes.”
“And I’m assuming I can’t say no.”
“Right again.”
I leaned up against the window. “I thought you told me you didn’t want me to do anything I didn’t want to, and now you’re telling me I can’t say no.”
“Oh, a debate. I like this. But you’re about to lose.”
I laughed. “Am I?”
“Yeah.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because this is something you want to do.”
. . . . .
He was right, but I hadn’t counted on this trip involving a flight. Not because I thought it was such a big deal to go away with him. I had become more comfortable with Drew than I could ever have anticipated in such a short time.
What surprised me about all of this was the fact that Drew was getting on an airplane. He had mentioned traveling around the world after the crash, but I didn’t think much about it at the time. Now that I was with him at the airport, though, I couldn’t imagine having survived a plane crash and getting on a plane again. Had it been me, I would have done everything possible to avoid air travel for the rest of my life.
I brought this up as we arrived at the airport.
Drew scoffed at the notion. “I have no reason to worry.”
“Why not?”
He popped the trunk to get our bags out. “What are the odds of me being in two plane crashes in one lifetime, let alone within a few years? Actually, if you think about it, the likelihood is so low, you’re safer flying with me than you would be with anyone else.”
I thought about that for a second as I took my small bag from him. “Yeah, but I’ve never been in a plane crash, so my odds aren’t any lower. Maybe you’re not safe flying with me.”
He laughed. “Good point. I guess it all depends on how you look at it. Plus, I’d take my chances with you any day.” He closed the trunk and we were on our way.
. . . . .
There was no way for him to keep the destination a surprise. When we checked in at the gate with the electronic tickets Drew had purchased for us, I knew we were going to Las Vegas.
We got settled into our seats, and as I tried to get used to the smell of cleaning products and recirculated cabin air, I had to keep reminding myself that all of this was real.
When we were buckled into our seats I said, “This is crazy.”
“What is?”
“This. All of this. Just jumping on a plane with you and going across the country.” I was speaking softly, not loudly or nervously.
Drew responded with the same volume and tone. “There’s nothing wrong with a little crazy. Crazy’s good for you.”
Once we were airborne, just after eight p.m., I said, “Okay, so if I guess what you do, will you tell me?”
“Sure, take your best shot.”
“Gambler.”
“No.”
“Dealer.”
“No.”
“A performer of some kind. Maybe you’re a singer?”
He laughed. “No.”
“No to the singer or no to all kinds of performances?”
He thought about it for a moment. “If I told you, that would take some of the fun out of this.”
“This isn’t exactly what I’d call fun.”
He reached over and locked his fingers through mine, lifted it to his face and kissed the back of my hand. “Be honest. This is the most fun you’ve had in a while.”
I stared into his eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right, but he was. “Okay, so you’re not a singer. Let’s see… You’re a… Oh, my God.”
A huge grin spread across his face. “Did you figure it out?”
“You’re a male stripper.”
The smile fell from his face. “Why did you include ‘male’ in the description? Isn’t a stripper just a stripper? And is it really necessary to point out that I’m male? Anyone can look at me and tell. I find your label rather sexist. Sort of like the people who say ‘male nurse’ as if a guy who’s a nurse is somehow a different kind of nurse than a woman who�
�s a nurse.”
I looked him dead in the eye. “You’re a stripper.”
He stared back at me, his expression blank. “No. I’m not a stripper, male or otherwise. Sorry to disappoint.”
I pulled my hand away from his. “Not cool. Why did you go on that tirade about the ‘male’ thing when that’s not what you do anyway?”
“That wasn’t a tirade.”
I straightened up in my seat, facing forward, staring at the back of the seat in front of me. “You’re a difficult person to deal with.”
“Face it, you like me.”
I slowly turned my head toward him, only to be met with his gorgeous smile and that look in his eyes, the same one he had in the Laundromat when he came up with the idea for this trip. It was as though he was trying to read my thoughts through my eyes.
“I’d have to like you at least a little to be sitting here, wouldn’t I?”
“At least a little?” He faced forward. “I’ll take it. Any more guesses about what you’re going to find out about me when we get to Vegas?”
I tried a few more times and was wrong on all of them.
. . . . .
We landed at three a.m. east coast time, but with the time difference it was only midnight in Las Vegas. I should have been tired, but I was too pumped up to feel even a slight lack of energy or alertness.
We took a shuttle from the airport to the Mandalay Bay hotel and casino, where Drew said we’d be staying and had already booked a room for us.
“Don’t worry,” he said as the shuttle pulled up to the hotel, “I got a suite. You can have the bedroom and I’ll stay on the couch. But we’re not going to be sleeping for a while.”
I felt my face flush and hoped he didn’t see it. I initially took his comment as one laced with sexual suggestion, but quickly realized he couldn’t have meant that. Clearly he was referring to me finding out what he did for a living.
We checked in and a bellhop in a red jacket and black slacks took our bags up to the room while Drew and I made our way to the casino.
Before going out on the floor, he pulled me aside down a short, dimly lit hallway. He held me lightly by my arm and when we were halfway down the hall, he turned me so my back was up against the wall. He moved in close, putting his hands on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. “What do you know about card games?”
“I’ve never been much of a card player. Go Fish is kind of my speed. And…” I thought about it for a moment, trying to remember that other card game I played as a kid. “What’s the one where you divide up the deck and you put cards down really fast and whoever has the highest card gets to keep the cards?”
“War.”
“Yes, that’s it. I played War.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Okay, anything about blackjack?”
“No. But I’m not stupid. I’ve heard of it.”
He shook his head and grinned. “I didn’t say you were stupid, Leah, I was just trying to figure out the quickest way to explain this.”
He quickly went over the rules of blackjack, explaining the basics. “The object is to get twenty-one or as close to it without going over. You’re playing against the dealer, not the other people at the table, so whoever gets the highest number without going over wins. If you go over, you lose. If the dealer goes over, they lose.”
“That doesn’t sound too complicated.”
“Actually, it is. You’ll see if you watch the other players. Now, two things.” He placed a soft kiss on my lips. “First, I’m so glad you’re here.” He kissed me again, this time a little longer, before pulling away just an inch from my face. “Second, just watch me. Don’t ask me anything about what I’m doing until later. I’ll explain it all.” Another quick kiss. “Ready?”
“Wait. On the plane I asked if you were a gambler and you said no.”
Drew’s face remained serious as he responded. “It’s not gambling if you don’t lose. And I don’t lose.”
. . . . .
Walking out onto the casino floor was an experience in sensory overload. The lights from hundreds of gambling machines provided more illumination than the lights in the ceiling. This was the most crowded area of the casino, with each machine occupied by someone sitting on a stool, pumping tokens in, hoping more would come out. Video slot machines, video poker, video everything—instant lotteries, or so people hoped. There was a chance the lights or the colorful displays attracted players, but the real lure was the hope that they would experience uncommon luck and get rich. The vast majority of them, Drew pointed out, would leave in a far more sullen mood than when they arrived.
Music played throughout the room, not loud enough to drown out talking, but just enough to add to the atmosphere.
Some people were in shorts and t-shirts while others wore tuxedoes and evening gowns, as if a post-Oscar party collided with a group of tailgating football fans.
Taking in the sights and sounds intensified the racing thoughts I was having about Drew. He gambled for a living? Yeah, he said it wasn’t gambling when you don’t lose, and he said he doesn’t lose, but…what had I gotten myself into?
It was a good thing he warned me not to ask questions while he played blackjack. I’ll be honest—I had no idea what was going on. I had never played the game before, but I got the feeling that even if I had, I still wouldn’t have been able to keep up.
I stood behind Drew, looking over his shoulder. He would sometimes bet the minimum and other times bet a huge amount. I tried to detect some kind of pattern that would reveal why he switched back and forth like that, even before knowing what cards he was going to get, but I couldn’t figure it out. I like to think of myself as a fairly smart person who enjoys a challenge, and this was certainly one of the more interesting ones.
Early on, Drew won more hands than he lost, but not by much. I noticed the other players at the table were having about the same amount of luck. But it wasn’t long before Drew started winning far more than he lost, both in terms of the hands and the money—he’d increased his bets by this point, and with each win, he raked higher stacks of chips into his collection. Meanwhile, the other players were still trading winning hands with losing ones, having nowhere near the luck that Drew was having.
Or maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe he was just that good.
At one point when he had almost doubled his amount of chips, he handed a few over to me and told me to take a seat at the spot next to him.
I shook my head. “I’ll probably lose your money.”
He smiled and shrugged a little as if to say: So what?
The dealer put the cards down and I did my best to figure out if I should take another card or stay with what I had. Drew and I had different cards, but they added up to the same total number. Drew was staying with his. I did the same. The house busted, and we both won. My first hand at blackjack and I was a winner.
Drew and I didn’t draw the same numbers after that, so I had to rely on that crash course in blackjack he’d given me in the hallway earlier. Soon, I had lost all my chips and found myself once again standing behind Drew and watching the game over his shoulder.
One other guy sat at the end of the blackjack table for most of the time we were there. Other than that, people came and went, most of them giving up after losing a couple of hands.
The more Drew won, the more I noticed a guy hanging around just behind the dealer. The man wore a blue blazer and had an earpiece in his right ear. It was white, as was the coiled wire that ran from the earpiece down the back of his neck and into the collar of his shirt. I figured he must be security. Maybe he was watching over the big winners. I didn’t have much experience with casinos so I couldn’t be sure. I did notice that Drew never seemed to look in the guy’s direction, though.
His stacks of chips grew taller, and about four hours into it he asked me if I’d seen enough.
“I think so, but do you want to stop? You’re on a roll.”
“We’ll roll again tomorrow.” He turned to th
e dealer. “Color me up. Thanks.”
Drew stood and I said, “What does color me up mean?”
“The dealer’s going to change all my smaller denominations into larger ones. Just easier to carry around that way.”
“Oh, yeah, it’d be a shame to carry around that much. Showoff.”
Drew smiled down at me, put his arm around my back and pulled me close to him, forcing our bodies to press firmly together. “Smartass.” He kissed me on the lips quickly, then turned back to the table to gather his winnings.
. . . . .
When we got back to the suite, I brushed my teeth and washed my face, then collapsed on the bed without pulling back the covers. I couldn’t think of a time I’d been quite that exhausted.
Drew was in the bathroom for a few minutes after me. I had almost fallen asleep, but was stirred back awake when he opened the door.
“Hey.” My voice came out weak and almost hoarse. “Come here.”
Drew walked over to the bed and sat down beside me. “You need me to tuck you in?”
I let out a weak laugh. “No. I want something else.”
“Whoa, slow down, sweetheart. I’m saving myself for marriage.”
Another soft laugh escaped from my mouth. I was lying on my back, splayed out on the bed as though I had no muscle control. My east coast internal clock was at eight a.m., which meant I’d been awake nearly twenty-four hours, and that had involved a full workday, a flight almost all the way across the country, and an entire night in a casino. Drew appeared tired as well, but not as much as me. Probably due to the fact that he did this often and was more accustomed to it.
“Can you be serious for a minute?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I rolled over onto my side, pulling myself almost into the fetal position. I looked up at Drew. He reached for the lamp and turned it off, leaving the room illuminated only by the lights of Las Vegas beaming in through the window.
“How do you win so much?”
He hesitated before answering. “It’s a long story. How about I tell you in the morning.”
Break My Fall (No Limits) Page 8
