by Jolie Day
As her shift continued, Brooke made a note of every man’s gamble and how long they stayed at her table.
One man, in particular, seemed determined to win everything back—and more. He had sat down practically the second Brooke got back to the table and slapped a couple hundred thousand dollars in front of him, as if he did this every day—which, judging from the expensive navy blue suit he wore, was probably not too far off from the truth. Brooke exchanged the cash for chips and wished him good luck.
“I don’t need luck,” the man laughed. “I have skill.”
Brooke had furrowed her brow at that. In the game of blackjack, one didn’t need any kind of skill to play. It was a game of chance, unless he was counting the cards. But, soon, it became apparent that he was definitely not doing that.
It wasn’t that the man’s luck was awful. He won a round or two, but never won much money back. He must have given her nearly half a million to start the game, but the pile of chips at his side soon started to deplete and he was getting angrier and angrier with each hand that he lost. His face was getting redder and he had loosened his tie and taken off his suit jacket, growling under his breath with each passing game.
When he won, he seemed to relax a little bit, but that never lasted long. Brooke almost wanted to suggest he try a different game, but the man didn’t look like anybody who wanted to listen—especially not to her. So she just continued to deal and pray that he would win each game so that she could relax as well. The other patrons weren’t nearly as bad.
But then she screwed up.
It was an accident, really. She had just messed up shuffling and hadn’t really been paying attention when she dealt out the cards. She was supposed to discard the top three cards so that nobody could accuse her of cheating them out of their money when she dealt right afterwards, but instead she had left them in and given both of them to the man with the navy suit. He hadn’t said anything until after he got a good look at the cards and discovered that they were too big of a risk for him to take, apparently.
But then he’d started yelling and making a scene, which caused Brooke’s heart rate to go up as her face heated up and her eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t been this scared since the altercation with Tessa and the man from earlier. This time was worse, though. This time, she was alone.
That is, until a nearby manager stepped in, offering the man a charming, easy smile and talking in a calming voice as he gently lifted the deck of cards to remedy the situation. Brooke had noticed him watching her the entire time and she was certain that he had been just waiting for her to screw up so he could fire her. She heard that managers tended to do that if you didn’t catch onto the job quickly enough and these were high stakes for a first job, as well.
But, instead, he just apologized to the man in the suit and assured him that he would get a generous gift certificate to the casino’s attached restaurant, as well as a dozen thousand-dollar chips. Brooke’s eyes widened at that. It was pretty unrealistic for a manager to be able to make that kind of promise, even Brooke knew that.
She immediately found herself wondering, Is that him? No—can’t be. Not out here on the floor like this.
She didn’t dare ask as the two men began to laugh like old friends as everything settled down.
“Perhaps you could try your luck at one of the slot machines over there,” the manager suggested. “I heard there’s a winning streak going on tonight. One woman won nearly a million dollars.”
“Is that so?” The navy suit man looked intrigued, but still slightly unwilling to get up from the table.
“Or the craps table,” the manager added. “Plenty of pretty women over there to blow on your dice.” He winked and the suited man laughed and nodded.
“Alright,” he said. “You sold me with that one. Sweetheart, cash out my chips for me, will ya? Thanks, doll.” Brooke nodded and did the math in her head, reaching under the counter for the locked cash box, before realizing that she needed a key. When she glanced back up, the manager was already holding it out to her with a smile.
It was then that it struck Brooke just how handsome he was. With gelled-back black hair and piercing brown eyes, there was something familiar about him that she just couldn’t put her finger on.
Shaking off the thought, Brooke thanked him for the key and used it to unlock the cash box, pulling out enough to cover the man’s winnings and putting the rest back, before handing the dark, handsome man the key. “Thank you, Mr…?”
“You can just call me Tony,” he said. “And you call a manager when there’s trouble, okay? We look out for our own here.” His voice was thick with a Jersey accent, but his dark features and chiseled jawline drew her in like a moth to a flame. Brooke felt her cheeks flame when she caught herself staring and had to look away before she embarrassed herself.
When she looked back, Tony and the man with the navy suit were both gone.
Brooke’s face continued to burn as she focused back on the game. She got some knowing looks from the only woman seated in front of her, but otherwise nobody seemed to care much about what had just happened. They just wanted to get on with the games and win more money.
Thankfully, Brooke began to get better at shuffling and dealing the cards. She even made conversation with her patrons about their jobs and home lives. She found that most of the businessmen there were on trips for work, but that they had families at home that they would have to sometimes step away from the table and makes calls to.
An older woman, who wore a fur coat and multiple flashy rings, was what she called ‘Old Money mixed with New Money’, because of her marriage (and subsequent divorce) to a young oil barren, which left her with a large sum, before retaining a late inheritance from her estranged mother.
“I was an only child, you see,” she said, in a voice that screamed Old Hollywood. “And while we didn’t speak anymore, I was the only possible kin to receive her estate. The old bag never even bothered to write a will. She knew that there was nobody else in her life.” The woman sighed, sadly. “Still, I wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye. Just one last time.” She flashed her left hand. “These are all hers; I couldn’t bring myself to sell a single one of them. They were all given to her by my father. Now that was a man.”
The woman’s stories became like background music for Brooke as she went through the motions. Before she knew it, she didn’t even have to look down at her hands as she dealt out the cards. There were no more incidents with the patrons either. They all seemed to enjoy her company, as well as the older woman’s stories. When Brooke’s shift ended, a few of the men complained, and Brooke couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, boys,” she said, gathering her things as the next dealer was already standing by the table, waiting for her to move. “Until then…” She saluted them and they all chuckled, waving goodbye to her.
When she gathered her purse and phone from her locker, Brooke saw that she had some missed calls and texts; both from her father and Tessa. She listened to the latter’s voice mails first.
“Hey, newbie!” Tessa’s voicemail started. Brooke snorted. “Hope your first shift alone went well. I’m still a little too wired to sleep, so I thought I’d call and check in. I watched you for a couple of minutes before I actually left. I hope that’s not creepy.”
“Not at all,” Brooke muttered under her breath as she walked across the casino floor. Her eyes searched for the manager who had helped her out before. She wanted to thank him for all he had done to de-escalate the situation, but he was nowhere to be found. She sighed and continued out the door, as she continued to listen to Tessa’s voice in her ear.
“You did so well! I’m really proud of you, Brooke. I hope I didn’t just jinx it, but I really hope you’ll stay on at Alenna. It’ll be nice to have somebody my own age there. I mean, we get a lot of bachelor parties and rich frat guys, but, like, you know what I mean. Anyhoo, I’ll ask Mr. Dunham if we could get a bunch of similar shifts in the coming weeks.
Tomorrow’s my night off, but he agreed to let us overlap in the future. Maybe we can carpool?” Brooke nodded to herself. It might be fun to have a friend in Tessa. “Okay, this message is already way too long, so I’m gonna go and I’ll just speak to you later on in the week, okay? Stay safe!”
The message ended and Brooke slipped her phone into her purse, continuing the walk to her parked car.
“Stop right there, bitch.” Brooke gasped when a man stepped in her path, blocking her from getting to her car. She jumped back, sure that this was a mugger. She immediately pulled her wallet out of her purse and offered it up to him, but the man just laughed and shook his head. “That ain’t what I want,” he growled.
Then he lunged forward.
Chapter Three
Brooke’s scream reverberated through the parking lot and she covered her face protectively with her arms, cowering away from the man’s grip as he reached out for her. Her entire body tensed as she waited for his grip to lock around her arms or for him to knock her down with a swift slap or a punch to the gut. But it never came.
After a moment of feeling nothing but fear and the cool night air against her skin, Brooke looked up to see a mysterious dark figure, shrouded mostly in the shadows, with a strong grip on the violent man’s shirt, shoving him against a wall. She couldn’t see the mystery man’s face, but what she could see of his dark suit looked familiar.
It was the manager that had saved her earlier.
“Listen here,” he growled, loud enough for Brooke to hear, “you really don’t want to do anything here that you’re going to regret. Why don’t you just walk away right now and we’ll just forget that you tried to attack one of my employees, okay?”
In response, the man spat in Tony’s face. Tony’s back tensed for only a second and he pressed the man against the wall with a knee to his gut. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the saliva off his face as casually as could be. Then he replaced it and snapped his fingers.
Out of nowhere, two bulky men in black suits stepped into view and marched straight toward the attacker. Each of them grabbed one of his arms, practically dragging him away from the wall and back toward the building. The man struggled and cursed at them both, obviously not realizing the precarious position he’s put himself into.
“That bitch stole my money!” he raged. “I want it back! I want a fucking refund! Give me my money back, bitch!”
Brooke hugged herself and backed away as the man’s body lurched toward her, but was stopped by the security guards’ grip on his limbs. He continued to struggle and rage even as he was taken straight into the casino. Where they were taking him, Brooke had no idea, but she was happy to see that he wouldn’t be able to terrorize her anymore.
“Are you okay?” Tony asked, startling her slightly. Brooke swung around to look at him and sighed, laughing embarrassedly.
“Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it,” Tony replied, fixing his tie and hair; both of which had gotten slightly mussed in the shuffle, but he set them back with ease, as if he’d done this a lot.
Brooke wondered if he had.
“How did you know he would come after me?” she asked. It had seemed too big a coincidence that Tony had been here and ready to grab the man before he could lay even a finger on Brooke, let alone that he would have security guards ready to whisk the man away with the snap of his fingers.
“He’s been watching you for the past two hours,” Tony informed her. “The second you left your table, he headed out the door. So I followed him.”
“But how did you know—”
“Call it intuition,” Tony interrupted. “Either way, I knew I had to stop him before he got to one of my people.”
Brooke couldn’t make her mouth work to say anything of value to the man standing before her, so she stayed quiet, just staring up at him. Tony seemed to notice the change in demeanor and held out his hand.
“It was nice to meet you, Miss…”
“Abernathy,” Brooke supplied, practically in a whisper. “Brooke Abernathy.”
“Nice meeting you, Brooke,” Tony said, and she could swear the corner of his lips turned up in a slight smile. “Would you like me to walk you to your car?”
“Oh.” Brooke blushed. “Um, sure. Okay. Thank you.” He motioned for Brooke to precede him and she did, feeling a little bit safer now that she knew somebody was actually watching her back.
When they arrived at her father’s old Chevy, Brooke turned to thank Mr. Dunham for helping her out (again), but he was looking down at his phone and frowning. She waited for him to look up, but it took a few moments.
“Sorry,” he said, “there was an incident inside that I need to go deal with. Do you know how to get out of here?” Brooke nodded. “Good. Drive safely. Try not to get into too much trouble.” She chuckled to herself. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Brooke replied, not sure how to address him. So she didn’t. Instead, she just slipped into the front seat and inserted her key into the ignition, starting it up. Mr. Dunham watched the car as she pulled out of her spot and headed out of the casino parking lot. She watched him in her rear view mirror turn and walk away after she had pulled into traffic.
Newark was starting to die down at nearly 01:00 a.m. on a Friday morning and Brooke was starting to feel the effects of being up so late. She would have to get used to it, she reasoned, as she’d be pulling even longer shifts in the weeks—and hopefully months—to come.
With the prospect of seeing Mr. Dunham more often, though, Brooke figured she could deal with that.
*****
The commute from Newark to her father’s apartment on the Upper East Side was longer than Brooke had anticipated when she’d accepted the job at Alenna. Though, she supposed it could be worse. Most of the state’s casinos were located in Atlantic City, and Brooke knew that there was no possible way for her to commute there. Or even live there.
Her father’s apartment was a result of hard work on a rewarding job for the better part of twenty years, plus a small inheritance from his grandfather that had allowed him to pay off the mortgage in less than a decade. Other than that, however, they weren’t wealthy in the least. Her father had enough to get by, enough to feed himself and keep all of his bills and taxes paid, but he was still a frugal man. And strict. Part of the reason Brooke studied and read so much as a kid was that her father rarely let her go out. She’d never even gone to a party until she was in college and could make her own choices.
She was grateful for that, though. She’d gone to a good school and gotten a degree in something that actually interested her, with her father’s support and guidance. She couldn’t ask for much more than that.
Even if the last ten years had been tense between them.
As she pulled into the building’s parking garage, Brooke let out a long yawn. Her clock read a quarter past two in the morning and she was more than ready to hit the sack. She parked in her father’s designated spot next to the elevator and dragged her feet toward it, slumping against the back wall. Her father’s apartment was on the top floor. Sometimes, she took the steps just to challenge herself and give herself a little bit of exercise.
Tonight was an elevator night.
When she got to the loft apartment, she found the lights on in the dining area, where her father was reading a paperback novel. This was how she had left him. He was almost finished with the book.
He glanced up at her as she stepped through the door and gave her a great big smile as he saved his spot in the paperback and placed it down on the table. “Well, you’re home rather early, aren’t you?” he greeted, moving away from the table and wheeling his way toward her. His hands were large and strong, helping him to roll quickly across the open space of the apartment.
“Pop,” Brooke laughed, “it’s 02:00 a.m.”
“Well, I figured you’d be crawling in sometime around sunr
ise,” he admitted, stopping just in front of her. Brooke leaned down to give him a hug and kiss. “So, how was your first day of going it alone?” he asked.
Brooke shrugged. “It was fine, I guess,” she said. “It’s really not that hard when you think about it; dealing and shuffling cards, doing some light math for chip exchanges. Pretty simple stuff, actually.”
“Ain’t nothing simple about what goes on at those kinds of places,” her father argued. “I’ve busted up enough fights at the small-time places down here to know that much. And that place—Alessa, was it?—that’s gotta come with a whole lotta risk. You be careful there, you hear me?”
“It’s Alenna,” Brooke corrected. “And of course I’ll be careful, Pop. I’m always careful.”
“That’s my girl,” Mr. Abernathy chuckled. “You still got that pepper spray I gave you for your last birthday?”
Brooke pulled it out of her purse to show him. “Never go anywhere without it,” she informed him. “Not real sure how handy it’ll be in my employee locker, though.”
“Carry it around in your pocket.”
“I’m not even allowed to have a cell phone on the floor, Pop. What makes you think they’ll let me carry a weapon?”
“Just be safe,” Mr. Abernathy sighed. “That’s all I’m saying, sweetie. Be safe and make sure that your co-workers got your back. That’s imperative no matter what the job.”
Brooke nodded solemnly, eyeing her father’s chair. She still remembered the day he’d been put into it.
*****
Ten years earlier…
“Brooke!”
The teenager sat up in bed, bleary-eyed and confused. The room was dark, which meant that it wasn’t quite time for her to catch the bus. But her bedroom door was open and she could see her mother’s silhouette in the light that shone from the hallway. Brooke rubbed her eyes and yawned.
