BLOCK: Social Media #3

by JA Huss

  I ignore her and she takes the hint and shuts up.

  I spend the next two hours with my knee bouncing, my head pounding, and the internal dialog with Grace running through my mind continuously. The car delivers me to the front of the Bellagio and I get out, button up my suit coat, and straighten my sunglasses.

  My personal concierge steps forward with his hand outstretched as I pass between the Asian lion statues that flank the entrance. "Mr. Asher," he says with his best customer-service smile. "I’m so happy to see you again. What brings you here on such short notice tonight?"

  "Carl, I have a woman inside Villa Privé and I need immediate access. Her security detail tells me she is drunk."

  Carl smiles that smile he gives me just before he says no. So I interrupt him with a squeeze of his shoulder. "Carl, listen. I know the rules, I know the party is private, I know the security is tight. But I’m going in to get my girl, do you understand me? I’m not leaving here without her. You do whatever it takes to make that happen and I will make sure you still have a job when it’s all said and done."

  His smile falters and then disappears. He knows he has to try at the very least. He’s paid to try and give me whatever it is I ask for, even if it’s something outrageous like this. "Yes, OK, let me see. Let’s go to the villa level and make a plan."

  We walk briskly through the lobby and I keep my sunglasses on, but the finger-pointing starts immediately. People start calling out my name, yelling insults, and a few women actually rush me and the security guards have to form a wall to stop them from getting too close.

  Carl and I ignore everything, never slowing our pace, until we leave the bustle of the public areas behind and stop at the elevator.

  We both exhale a long breath.

  "Rough day for you, huh?" Carl asks as we wait.

  "This is my life and I know people will never believe this, but it sucks. I am always guilty and never proven innocent."

  He just stares at me for a few seconds and then the elevator dings and the doors open. He nods, telling me to enter first, and then he follows. The doors close and we pretend to listen to the elevator music as we go up.

  "This girl is important to you?" Carl asks, his eyes trained on the digital numbers counting off the floors as we rise. The ride is short so the car dings again and the doors part.

  "I’ve disappointed her today, Carl. I’m sure this is happening because she saw the news. And I need a chance to set it right."

  He nods at me as we exit and then waves me into a lounge. "Have a seat, Mr. Asher. I will make my case and be right back."

  My phone buzzes just as I take a seat on a plush burgundy couch. Felicity. "Please have good news," I say into the phone.

  "Well," she says, "define good."

  I shake my head. What else could go wrong today?

  "I found out where Grace Kinsella is from. A tiny farming town in northeastern Colorado. I also found out something else."

  She stops talking and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Do I want to know?"

  "No, Vaughn, I really don’t think you do. But since I know you’re gonna to ask, let’s just start with her real name."

  Shit. This cannot be good.

  "Does Daisy Bryndle ring any bells?"

  "Should it?"

  "Depends. Did you turn on a TV at all ten years ago? Because Daisy Bryndle’s family was murdered back when she was only thirteen. Daisy went missing and then showed up eight months later and spent the better part of a year locked away in a secret location. She was charged with the murders and was all over the news for months, then poof. Gone."

  "What the—why isn’t she in jail?"

  "Apparently the charges were dropped after a Denver lawyer stepped in. That lawyer, Marjorie Tamren, is her friend Bebe’s mother. They changed Daisy’s name, legally adopted her at age fifteen, and her juvenile record was expunged and sealed when she turned eighteen. I couldn’t get a hard copy, but this info comes from someone close to her as a child."

  A set of double doors open and Carl appears.

  "I gotta go, Felicity. Thank you."

  "Hey, I’m glad to help. And I can relate to this girl, ya know, V? I can relate to her."

  "I know, kid. I know. I’ll see you tomorrow." I end the call just as Carl walks up. He’s got a tight smile on his face and I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign.

  "You’ve been accepted into the game, Mr. Asher, but I cannot guarantee that you will be able to get to the girl. She’s… quite wrapped up with our special guest at the moment."

  Fuck. "What the hell does that mean? If he’s got his hands on her, I will—"

  Carl puts both hands up in a stop motion and looks around nervously. "Mr. Asher, please,” he whispers. “This entire area is wired up to off-site regulators. They will not allow you to distract from the game. You are in there to bet, and if you can get your girl while you’re at it, that’s fortunate for you. But fighting over a woman in this suite is absolutely out of the question. There are armed guards inside, Mr. Asher. I have to take your cell phone and you need to put up three hundred thousand dollars to enter the suite." He thrusts a clipboard at me. "Sign here and we’ll withdraw the funds from your account."

  I hand over my phone and sign for the bank transfer. I look nervously over Carl’s shoulder at the door he came out of. "She’s in there?"

  "Yes, sir. They are playing craps at the moment. The suite patron has stipulated a minimum playing time of one hour." I nod as we approach the double doors and he stops and waves me forward as someone on the other side releases the lock. "Good luck," Carl says as I walk through and enter the suite.

  A loud cheer goes up from a considerable crowd of about twenty people surrounding the craps table. I take them all in. Men in expensive tuxedos—at least I’m dressed for the part—each with a woman on their arm. Most are in long expensive gowns flashing diamonds.

  Except one.

  I have to chuckle at her. My Grace is wearing a knee-length dark blue dress that is probably part of her everyday work attire. She has no diamonds, her hair is out of place, and her cheeks are ruddy with excitement as another cheer goes up.

  A tall middle-aged Asian man with striking green eyes leans down into her neck to whisper and she throws her head back and laughs again.

  Clearly she is not torn up about my bad news today.

  Green-eyes notices me and gives me a nod to signify this is his room and I’m here as his guest. I nod back and he calls out. "Mr. Asher, I’m honored."

  Grace practically gives herself whiplash trying to find me, and I admit, that gives me a little thrill. "What’s he doing here?" she whispers. But she’s looking right at me, so it’s not hard to read her lips.

  "Come, Mr. Asher. My good-luck charm is still hot." He nods to Grace, ignoring her question about me.

  I walk over to the table and begin greeting other people. They nod and shake my hand as I put on my polite public persona. I take up shooter residence, opposite of the Asian man. But my eyes are only on Grace as I try to assess her state of mind.

  Stunning. Check.

  Even though her dress is not a designer gown and her neck is bare of flashing jewels, she is the star of this room. Her hair is piled up on top of her head in a way I’ve never seen before and it allows me to stare at the sweeping line of her neck. The strap of her black bra is showing and even though I’d love to see more of that, I don’t like the fact that every man in the room is probably thinking the same thing.

  Drunk. Check.

  Her cheeks are flushed, and not just from the winning. Her eyes are a bit glassy, enough to have me worried. And once I look closer, they are puffy and red. She’s been crying. She’s leaning into the Asian man, who is way too old for her, steadying herself so she doesn’t teeter.

  Angry. Check.

  Her forehead is a field of furrows as she purses her lips and squints her eyes. Just seconds before, her face was relaxed and excited. But now the hurt I’ve caused her today is coming t
hrough loud and clear.

  "Grace," I say in a soft, gentle voice to let her know I’m not here to start trouble. "You look beautiful."

  She smiles up at her date and ignores me.

  "I’m Damian Li," the Asian man says, his green eyes brilliant and his smile genuine. "Welcome to my suite. Do you know my date tonight?" He looks down on Grace and she continues to beam a smile at him.

  "Intimately, actually," I tell him back with a straight face. Might as well get this out in the open. "I’m here to win. Shall we?"

  Li doesn’t even flinch.

  "Place your bets!" the dealer cries.

  My dealer places my three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of high-value plaques on the apron in front of me. Li places the equivalent of fifty thousand dollars on the Pass Line and I match him by pushing my chips into the Don’t Pass Line with a smile. The other players make their bets, but I don’t pay any attention to them or the amount of money flowing in here. Li’s hand is on Grace’s hip.

  I see red, but I take a deep breath. Wrong time, wrong place.

  The dealers flips the puck to white and the game is on. Li picks up his dice, jiggles them in his hand, and then with a flat palm offers them to Grace. She leans in and kisses them. I zero in on her lips, fuming when they touch Li’s skin. When I look back up to his face, he’s smug. "Good luck from the lady," he says loudly.

  Everyone cheers.

  "You bet against her, Mr. Asher," he says, nodding down to my Don’t Pass Line bet.

  "I always bet the House first time out, Mr. Li."

  He throws the dice and rolls a seven. The whole room erupts in cheers. Except for me. Because I lost.

  "Ha," Grace says in a voice pitched too high, "loser! That’s what you get for betting against me."

  I smile at her as I push another fifty thousand dollars into the Don’t Pass Line. Li doubles his money and holds out his palm for Grace to kiss. This time she looks me right in the eye, takes his hand in hers, stroking her thumb up and down the length of his fingers, and then leans in and touches her lips to his skin once again.

  I fume. Anger manifests as heat and pulsates through my entire body. "Grace," I growl, but at the same time Li throws the dice and rolls snake eyes. Everyone but me lets out a collective groan. My chips double and I’ve made my money back.

  "Shall we raise the stakes a little, Mr. Asher?" Li asks me, his grin a little too wide. "And move over to baccarat? Minimum bet of fifty thousand?"

  "I’m in," I say as his hand rubs against Grace’s hip once again. She leans into him and I have a brief second of panic that maybe they really know each other. Maybe she’s dating this guy. I’ve left her alone for two weeks, Ray can’t know everything about her. It’s possible she had plans to meet him here.

  "With a private non-monetary wager as well. My date for tonight."

  "What?" Grace squeals. "You can’t bet me!"

  "She’s not a piece of property, Mr. Li."

  "No, Mr. Asher," he says back evenly. "She’s not. So stop treating her like a gold watch."

  "I didn’t buy my way into this game to retrieve a gold watch, Mr. Li. I told you, I’m here to win."

  "Win back the girl?" he asks with a lightness in his voice that really pisses me off. "Too late for that." He pulls Grace in close, his large hand across her hip. "She’s mine and I’m not ready to give her up just yet."

  "Oh, I assure you, Mr. Li. Grace Kinsella is not yours." I smile and a small laugh even comes forth. "She’s mine in every way imaginable."

  "Holy shit, you’re both a couple of asshole cavemen!" Grace says too loudly, sipping on a glass of champagne that has materialized in her hand while Li and I have this pissing contest. "I don’t belong to anybody but me!" And then she storms off, handing her champagne to a waiter as she makes for the door.

  A few of the women in the room cheer her on, but their partners quickly divert them to another game and a few seconds later Li and I are staring each other down from opposite ends of the table.

  "You have a one-hour minimum in here, Mr. Asher."

  My attention is fixed on Grace, who walks out the goddamned door.

  "So let’s make that wager. And if you win, you can have her. If I win, she spends the night with me and you are escorted off the premises." I recoil and he grins a little wider. "Don’t worry, someone will be scooping her up momentarily and taking her to the bar to await the outcome."

  The doors close after Grace exits.

  "One hand of baccarat. If I win, I get to leave immediately and you back off."

  "One?" He tsks his tongue. "Where’s the fun in that? That has no risk, Mr. Asher. You’re wealthy. Whatever you lose or net in here will not affect your bottom line. No, I’m afraid we’ll need to raise the stakes higher. At the very least the best of ten hands. You see, your risk is leaving her alone out there. She’s been drinking, she’s angry, and she’s in Vegas. Ten hands of baccarat, played swiftly, might take ten minutes. But she can make a lot of decisions in ten minutes."

  I could stand here and argue with him, but why bother. If I play and win, I could have her back under my control in a matter of minutes. If I play and lose, well, at least she won’t be picked up by a stranger. If I do nothing she’s got a sixty-minute head start on me. I can’t even call Ray and have her followed because I don’t have a phone. She could disappear. Someone might get her and who can tell what might happen. I have no choice. "I accept."

  Chapter Six

  WHEN Li waves his hand, his people close the doors to the baccarat room and we approach the table. I set my rack of chips down and wait to see how he wants to play this.

  "Place your bets," the dealer says.

  "How interesting should we make this game, Asher?" Li asks.

  "It’s your game, Li. You said best of ten. You bet first and I’ll match. That will be our ante."

  He allows a small grin as he walks over to the bar and asks for a snifter of brandy.

  I watch him. He’s very confident. But everything about him—the way he dresses, walks, talks—everything says he’s got a reason to be confident. And it’s more than money. Hell, I’ve got money. Lots of money. But I don’t think I’ve ever walked around like that.

  Why is he taking such an interest in Grace? She’s beautiful and she’s sweet. But why her?

  "One hundred thousand," Li says, bringing my attention back to the game. He pushes ten neatly stacked chips to bet the player.

  I grab ten chips from my rack and place them on the banker.

  "Do you like to bet against me?"

  "Banker always has a higher advantage, Li. I’m sure you know that."

  "Ah, it’s making sense now. You hate risk, Asher? And yet”—he cocks his head at me, like he’s thinking through some elaborate theorem—“you find yourself in a world of risk right this very moment.” I make to answer him but he puts up a hand. “Not this, Asher. Miss Kinsella. Do you know where I found her?”

  I just stare at him.

  “In a hallway, sobbing her eyes out.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Over you.”

  Who the fuck does this guy think he is? “Not that it’s any of your business, but that was a misunderstanding. I haven’t had a chance to explain what’s happening yet. But once I do, she’ll see past it.”

  “Past it?” He sneers at me. “She’s just a thing to you, isn’t she? She really is a gold watch. You think you own her.”

  My jaw clenches and I want to fuck this man’s world up in so many ways. But I’ve spent my whole life dealing with assholes like him. I’m a professional. “I only own what she’s willing to give, Mr. Li. Regardless of what you read or watch on the tabloids, the decision to stay always belongs to them.”

  “Hmmm. She was a fountain of information in the twenty minutes we sat and had drinks before this suite was ready.”

  I clench my jaw again. What the fuck did she say?

  “She told me,” Li says, “that you threw her away.”

  “I didn’t throw her away. I made
a decision to keep her safe. I’ve got… a situation brewing. I don’t want her caught up in it. She’s misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  “Hmmm. Then you are a poor communicator, Mr. Asher.”

  “Probably, yes.”

  “I think she deserves better.”

  I laugh loudly. Too loudly. “Is that right?” He nods and smiles, but says nothing. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I am determined to have my say tonight. And once I do, she will understand and be right back in my arms.”

  “But maybe you don’t deserve that chance.”

  “Who the fuck are you, Li? The fucking guardian angel of second chances? Fuck off and let’s play.”

  That smile again. That motherfucking overconfident smile. “Let’s liven the game up, Mr. Asher. Let’s see how badly you want that second chance. How much you’re willing to risk for it. Every time you lose I’ll have my associate make Miss Kinsella an offer and if she accepts my offer before our game is over, then she’s mine to keep."

  “She’s never going to be yours.”

  “You’re probably right. I have a daughter her age, so I’m not really interested. My point is that if I win this game, she will not be yours because my offer will take her to places beyond your reach. I’ll introduce her to a whole new life. Give her a chance to find a nice man who will treat her well and not make her break down in a hotel casino hallway because her lover threw her out like trash.”

  "And how do you plan on getting her to accept your offer?" I growl.

  "A job offer. In Hong Kong where I do a lot of business. She has a useful profession. Everyone needs someone to coordinate events, right? Even you, maybe."

  "She’ll say no," I reply with confidence. "She likes her job, she has friends, she’s rooted in Denver."

  "Perhaps. But each time you lose, the offer will increase by thirty thousand dollars. How long will she hold out when the salary offered is in excess of a hundred grand?"

  My jaw clenches along with my fists. "Why are you doing this?"

  "I thought you liked to play games with your women, Asher?”

  I just stare at him.