Betting on Bailey

She sounds confused, but she agrees. “Of course, Carter. Right away.”

* * *

Chapter 3

Gabriella:

Even though it is a mere two hours from the city, I have only been to Atlantic City once. But last night at Piper’s restaurant, Wendy had made an offhand comment about one of her clients, a woman she was representing in a divorce. “Her husband claims he’s spent all their savings playing poker at the high stakes tables at Grand River in Jersey. Of course, it isn’t true - he’s just hiding his assets. Idiot.” She’d snorted in derision and moved on to talk about something else, but I wasn’t listening anymore.

Atlantic City. Of course. A small glimmer of hope had pierced through my veil of gloom. In a casino, I wouldn’t need Sammy’s tacit approval to play. It might be a way out of the jam I was in.

Early this morning, I’d called my boss Nathan. “Can I take a week off?” I’d asked him, knowing he wouldn’t have a problem with it.

“Absolutely,” he had said readily. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m just going to rent a car and putter around the area,” I’d replied. “Maybe go to Atlantic City?”

“Scouting out a different place to live?” he’d asked me with a knowing tone in his voice.

“Huh?”

“Haven’t you heard? The company is planning to open an office there. Cheaper than Manhattan and a lot of our work is done over the phone and the internet anyway.”

I’d rolled my eyes. Nathan would find it a tough sell to get people to move away from New York. I couldn’t imagine the men and women I worked with voluntarily exiling themselves away from the excitement of the big city.

“Keep your phone on, just in case something comes up,” he had requested. “And I’ll see you back in the office Monday? You can take more time if you want. There’s not a lot going on.”

* * *

As I wait in a small, yet luxuriously decorated private room, I get angrier and angrier. By the time ten minutes have elapsed, I’m spitting mad, ready to rip these fucking Atlantic City security goons a new one.

I know what this is about. People see a woman win some games, and they get nervous. When I asked to move to the high stakes tables out back, the dealer had told me she needed to call it up to the head of security. She’s been gone fifteen minutes. No doubt, she’s stalling. The guys who play at the high stakes table don’t like to lose to a woman.

So far, I’ve won three thousand dollars. It’s nice, but I have to speed this up. I need the high-stakes tables. The Grand River is the only casino in the town with them, and they only run the games three nights a week. I’ll need to win, and win steadily, for more than one night to make up the gap. I don’t have a lot of time and I still have ninety five thousand, five hundred dollars to win.

Tapping my feet impatiently, I look around the room. I typically don’t visit casinos. I find them dim and depressing spaces, filled with seniors gambling away their social security money. Of course, Sammy’s rooms are hardly the height of cheer, but at least there, no one is exploiting the loneliness of old people for gain. Just suckers like me.

But the decor in this space is unlike any casino I’ve been in before. The walls are a deep charcoal grey, with modern art paintings dominating the space. The couches are red and the lighting is warm and golden. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in someone’s living room. Somebody wealthy, and with impeccable taste.

Finally, the platinum blonde comes back. “Mr. Hughes, our Director of Security would like to talk to you,” she tells me. “Please follow me.”

My anger returns full force. This Mr. Hughes is going to get a piece of my mind.

* * *

The elevator opens into a large, open space, with floor to ceiling windows that look out on the street below. Ready as I am to open my mouth and start yelling, I ignore the gorgeous room. I move forward, indignant, my tirade quivering at my lips, then I halt dead.

Because the men that face me?

It’s them.

The two guys from my unforgettable one-night stand five months ago.

Dominic and Carter.

In front of me.