She closed the door behind her and hurried down the hallway to the elevator that would take her to the hotel lobby and casino floor. She made a beeline for the parking garage in case anyone she knew saw her. Vegas wasn’t really that small, but she knew a lot of people who lived and worked there. Within five minutes, she was exiting the garage and heading home.
“Happy birthday,” she said to her reflection in the rearview mirror. She always thought she’d be settled down by the time she hit forty. Not that she hadn’t tried. Hell, fifteen years ago she’d been married and attempting to start a family. Then Jordan Stryker walked into her life, and Ashley was never the same.
Until the day she met Jordan, Ash always assumed she was straight because it was all she’d ever known. Sure, she’d been attracted to girls, but she thought that was normal for a teenager. She’d been Homecoming Queen, dated the star of the high school football team, and even married him right after graduation. To this day, she couldn’t believe she was with him for eighteen years, considering they’d first started dating in junior high school. She’d somehow managed to convince herself she was happy, but until Jordan, Ash hadn’t known what happy truly was. And then she still hadn’t left her husband until almost nine years later.
“Fuck,” she mumbled. She hadn’t thought about Jordan in years. Not much, anyway. She couldn’t deny the reason she’d never been able to make a relationship with a woman last. She’d tried a couple of times right after she came out, but inevitably she would always compare them to Jordan. She hadn’t wanted to, but she couldn’t help it.
When she pulled into her garage, it was just after seven. She walked in and glanced at the answering machine long enough to determine there were no messages. Not a surprise since she hardly gave out her home number any longer. It was time to seriously think about getting rid of the landline and going strictly with the cell. In fact, the only reason she still had the house phone was because it was the only number her parents had for her.
She’d known there wouldn’t be a message from them wishing her a happy birthday, but knowing it didn’t stop her from hoping. Some people might say, “It’s early, they might still call.” But Ash knew better. They were retired, but they still woke with the sun every morning, her dad going to play golf with his buddies on most days, and her mom puttering around the garden or meeting with her book club.
No, they wouldn’t call. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since she’d left Los Angeles. At first, she’d hoped they would come around eventually, but who could blame them for being confused as hell when their only daughter ended a thirteen-year marriage because she suddenly decided she was a lesbian? Of course it hadn’t really happened that way, but it was how they saw it since it seemingly came out of the blue. So for the past six years there were no phone calls or cards on birthdays and holidays. Ash tried hard not to let it bother her, but she’d always been so close to both her parents, it was difficult not to let it get to her sometimes.
She poured herself a glass of orange juice and took a seat at the kitchen table just as Trixie, her tuxedo cat, jumped onto the table and made her displeasure known by flicking her tail in Ash’s face.
“I know, you hate it when I stay out all night,” Ash said, wiping the fur from her face. “I’m sure you used to do the same thing before I gave you a home though, so you don’t have any right to judge me, baby girl.”
Trixie sat and looked at her with the attitude only a cat could have. She blinked slowly and looked away, almost as though she was telling Ash she couldn’t care less. But Ash knew better. She loved this cat like she’d never loved another animal before. When she reached over to scratch under Trixie’s chin, the cat leaned into her touch and closed her eyes as she began to purr loudly, any perceived snub wiped away in an instant.
Trixie jumped and backed away from her as she swatted at the cell phone vibrating on the table next to her. Ash laughed as she picked it up and saw it was Kelly Osgood, first shift supervisor of security at the Rio All-Suites Hotel and Casino.
“This better be important, Oz, because even Trixie isn’t happy you’re calling this early in the morning,” she said by way of greeting.
“Tell Trixie it is indeed important. I wouldn’t want that cat pissed at me,” Oz replied, a hint of humor in his voice. “I know you can’t wait for the World Series of Poker to be over and done with, but I was looking over the list of people registered to play in the no-limit hold ’em tournament starting this Sunday. I came across a name I was pretty sure might be of some interest to you.”
“And it couldn’t wait until I got there this afternoon?”
“Please, if I know you—and I’m pretty sure I do—you just walked in the door. So don’t be acting all high and mighty and accusing me of waking you up with an early morning phone call.” He paused then, no doubt waiting for her to respond, but she said nothing. “Of course, if I’m completely out in left field with my assumption, I apologize.”
“Just tell me the name, Oz.” There was no way Ash was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right, so she made a concerted effort to give nothing away in her tone.
“Jordan Stryker. And she’s staying at the hotel too.”
Ash felt lightheaded and she gripped the edge of the table with her free hand. She was vaguely aware her heart rate had spiked dramatically, and she felt dangerously close to passing out. She mumbled something she hoped sounded like I’ll call you back before disconnecting and dropping the phone back onto the table.
Shit. Jordan was in town? And staying at her hotel? What were the odds? In Vegas the odds were supposed to be in the house’s favor, weren’t they? Ash stood and began to pace, her hand raking through her hair as she began talking to herself. Trixie watched her as though she might dart from the room at any second.
“I’ll just have to do my best to avoid her,” she said to herself but she was looking at Trixie. “She’s here to play poker, so I just need to stay away from the poker room. I can avoid her for a few days, right? Of course the series is going on for more than two weeks, but she can’t possibly be here for the entire thing, can she? Piece of cake.”
She took a deep breath as she sat again, feeling more like herself after walking it off and talking it out. Trixie was still watching her warily but stood her ground. Ash picked up the phone and called Oz back.
“Are you all right, Ash?” he asked when he answered. “Should I not have told you?”
“I’m fine, and of course you should have told me. Much preferable to running into her completely unaware. When does she check-in and out?”
“Check-in is this evening and it’s an open reservation. She didn’t give a check-out date. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Ash laughed in an attempt to convince him her world hadn’t just been turned upside down. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Change the schedule for this evening. I want someone else in the poker areas tonight, whether just regular poker or the WSOP area. I want to stay strictly in the slots area tonight.”
“You got it. I’ll see you later?”
“Of course you will.” She hung up abruptly and shoved the phone into her pocket before rinsing out her glass and going upstairs for a shower. There was no way in hell she was going to be able to get back to sleep now.
Chapter Three
Jordan exited the elevator into the main lobby of the Rio All-Suites Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas at almost six that evening. She shook her head in wonder at the opulence on display. It was beyond her how people could walk into a casino, see the amount of money on exhibit in the garish décor, and still think they had any chance in hell of striking it rich. Where did those people think the owners got the money to constantly make upgrades to their hotels and casinos?
The young man who’d taken her bags out of her trunk at the front entrance waved to her from the check-in desk. She waved back and concentrated on getting across the space without limping. She’d managed to
convince herself she wouldn’t need her cane, which was with her luggage, which in turn was by the check-in desk. She should have known almost five hours in the car and the desert heat would wreak havoc with her multiple sclerosis.
She forced a smile at the woman who checked her in, even though she wanted nothing more than a place to sit down and relax for the next month. She got the security card that would allow her entrance to her room and then followed her luggage.
“Is this your first time in Vegas?” the young man asked.
“No,” Jordan said as she glanced at his name tag. “I’ve been here quite a few times, Mark.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both in the past, but this time, purely pleasure.” Jordan leaned against the back of the elevator and closed her eyes momentarily.
“Are you all right, Ms. Stryker?”
“Fine,” she answered quickly. She hated showing weakness, especially to strangers. For some reason, strangers always thought you needed help if they perceived weakness. Especially men. Mark didn’t seem like the type though. If she had to guess, she’d say Mark was family. There wasn’t really anything in particular in his appearance or demeanor to bring her to that conclusion, but it was just a feeling she had. She looked at him and smiled. “Just tired is all.”
“Okay,” he said as the elevator doors opened onto her floor. She motioned for him to go ahead. He knew where they were going better than she did. He kept talking away as they went down the hall. “We have pretty much everything here in the hotel you could possibly need, but if you want suggestions on where to go for anything else, don’t hesitate to ask for me.”
They stopped at her door and he slid the card through the reader. When it clicked and the green light flashed, he pushed down on the handle and opened the door. She went in ahead of him and walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out at the view of the strip, hoping her mouth wasn’t hanging open in awe. She was sure it would be even more impressive after dark.
“You can just leave the bags at the foot of the bed,” she told him without turning around. She listened as he unloaded the cart.
“All the phone numbers you need are on a list here by the phone. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?”
Jordan reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill before walking to him and placing it in his palm. He handed her a card with his name and phone number on it and gave her a wink as he leaned closer.
“That’s my cell phone number. If you find you want to go out and meet other women, give me a call. I know the best places to go. Unfortunately, there aren’t any bars here in the hotel for family to congregate.”
“I didn’t think I was that obvious,” Jordan said with a laugh she couldn’t contain.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t be to a straight man, but you pinged my gaydar the second you pulled up to the entrance.” He straightened his posture and was all business once again. “I hope you enjoy your stay at the Rio All-Suites Hotel and Casino, Ms. Stryker. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call the front desk and ask for me.”
With that, he was gone, and Jordan placed his card on the bedside table before grabbing the television remote and sitting on the couch to relax for a while before heading out to dinner. It was Wednesday evening, and her first tournament didn’t start until noon Sunday. She planned on spending her time between now and then doing nothing but hanging out by the pool and enjoying herself.
*
Jordan woke an hour later when her cell phone began vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out and sighed when she saw her mother’s name displayed. She was supposed to call her when she arrived to let her know she’d gotten to Vegas in one piece. She sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in her right leg, and answered the call. Honestly, she’d assumed her mother had forgotten all about her visit, much less the promise to call her.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, trying not to sound like she’d been asleep.
“I was worried about you. You said you’d call when you got there.”
Jordan rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t remember a time her mother had been genuinely worried about anything other than herself. Something Matt said at dinner the previous night went through her mind.
“No matter how we were treated while we were growing up, she’s still our mother. She’s sick, and she needs us to take care of her now.”
Jordan sighed and looked out at the view of the strip. The sun was going down and most of the lights were starting to hint at the grandeur to come when it was fully dark. Jordan knew she should just be grateful their mother was living in the nursing home near Flagstaff. At least the “taking care of her” part wasn’t a full-time, hands-on endeavor for either her or Matt.
“Sorry, Mom. Traffic was hellacious, and checking into the hotel took forever. I just got to my room and was about to call you.” Jordan was surprised at how easily the lies came.
“Just as long as you made it there okay,” her mother said. “Good luck with your game tomorrow, dear.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“What?”
“My first tournament. It starts Sunday.”
“Oh, right. You’ll call tomorrow night and let me know how you did, right?”
“Sure, Mom. I’ll talk to you then.” She hung on, waiting for her mother hang up first—a habit from when she was a teenager. The one time she’d hung up before her mother, she never heard the end of it because her mother hadn’t been finished speaking to her.
She shoved the phone back into the pocket of her cargo shorts and rested her head against the back of the couch, her eyes closed. Her mother’s memory had been steadily getting worse over the past decade. The doctors had diagnosed her with dementia, but they thought it could possibly be a result of her heavy drinking and drugs for more than thirty years. Those particular vices only got worse after Jordan’s father committed suicide.
She shook her head to get rid of the memories she’d rather not think about. It was bad enough her parents had ruined her childhood. She wasn’t about to let them ruin her life now.
She grabbed five hundred dollar bills from her suitcase and shoved them in her pocket. A few hours at a poker table would give her something else to concentrate on, but first she needed food. Mark had been right about one thing—there were enough restaurants and shops inside the hotel, she’d probably never have to leave for anything. Unless she decided she wanted some female companionship. She made sure she had his card in her wallet just in case.
She walked to the door of her room and back to the windows to be certain she could get by without her cane and then snatched the key card from the dresser before heading for the elevator.
Chapter Four
After a quick burger at one of the many casual dining establishments on the main floor of the casino, Jordan put her name on the waiting list for an open seat at a poker table. She got lucky and only had to wait for about thirty minutes. Hopefully, it was a sign of good things to come on this trip.
An hour later, she was finding her groove and was up almost a thousand dollars. Jordan didn’t like chatter while she was playing, but she seemed to be at a table full of talkers. She did her best to tune them all out, but it was no use. Whether she wanted to or not, she knew all their names, if they had kids and/or grandkids, and where they were all from. It seemed the only thing they didn’t supply were medical records.
She spared a quick glance at her cards but gave no outward sign of what she had. Pocket aces. She was always careful to not change her expression no matter how good or bad her starting hand was. Art, a grandfather of three from Tennessee a couple of seats from the small blind, went all in. The next two players, Jimmy and Tara, called his bet, as did Jordan. The remaining players folded.
The flop gave her another ace along with two kings. Her heart rate quickened, but she never took her gaze from Jimmy, the first to bet in the second round. She noticed sweat on his fore
head. She was certain he had nothing by how hard he was thinking about whether to bet or check. He finally checked, and Tara, seated next to Jordan, pushed a hundred-dollar chip in.
Jordan hesitated for a few seconds and made a show of first counting her chips and then looking at her cards again. She knew there was only one hand she could lose to at this point, and that would be pocket kings. But if Tara had kings, she would have bet bigger based on how she’d played previous hands. There was always a chance Art, who’d gone all in before the flop, had kings, but she had to play her gut. After taking one more look at her cards, she pushed all her chips in. Jimmy folded, and Jordan could tell by the smile on her face Tara thought she had her beat. Jordan knew her hesitation was what made Tara feel that way. Tara pushed all her chips in and the three of them turned their cards over. Jordan stood behind her chair, her hands gripping the back of it tight enough for her knuckles to turn white.
Art had queens. Tara had ace-king. The odds were in her favor, but the other two still had a chance. The turn was a two—Art was done. As long as the river wasn’t a king, she’d win. She closed her eyes for a moment and heard Tara chanting king, king, king, under her breath. Jordan opened her eyes as a six was revealed.
“Fuck,” Tara said. She looked at Jordan and shook her head, but the smile told Jordan she wasn’t really mad about losing the hand. “Well played.”
“Thanks,” Jordan said as she sat once again and raked in her chips. She motioned to the dealer she was ready to cash out and he gave her a tray for her winnings. When she was done stacking them she pushed a hundred dollar chip across the table, a tip for the dealer, and turned to leave, but Tara was still standing behind her.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I don’t drink much,” Jordan told her.
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