Since then, the brothers have made enough money to start their own bank.
As I slide my stack of chips through my fingers, I’m captivated by the rhythmic clicking sound they create.
Harvey not so, he slams his hand on mine. “Stop fucking doing that. You’re making me nervous.”
“It’s blackjack, not poker.”
“I need a drink,” Hunter repeats.
Another!
“I need to eat before we drink again,” Hudson groans, but he still drinks from yet another glass of bourbon.
“Definitely, but let’s get one more drink,” Hunter slurs.
I groan, and although we shouldn’t be going to the bar because Hunter is already on his fourth scotch, I’m glad for the rest away from the tables.
I grab my chips and push them into my shirt pocket.
The proximity of the casino and hotel bar makes it effortless to walk between the two. Allowing the spenders to conveniently indulge in both activities. And if they get you spending your money at the tables, the drinks flow freely. Because they know the patrons have no problem with spending their money when they’re drinking.
I wait for the brothers to sit before I order our drinks, ensuring mine is non-alcoholic.
“You’re a fucking lightweight,” Harvey yells, despite being the drunkest of the four of us.
Before he got onto the scotch, I’m sure he started at the top of the cocktail menu and worked his way down, which surprises me because I never took him as a cocktail drinker.
And he wonders why he’s lost a fortune at the tables yesterday.
“Yeah, food, then drink, then we’ll come back to the casino,” Harvey says. “I need to win some money.”
I shake my head as I kick up one corner of my mouth.
“Margaritas!” an excited voice yells.
The girl running to the bar diverts my attention from the grumbling of my friends. She’s wearing a denim skirt, a pink tee-shirt and a pair of flip-flops.
Another three girls come strolling in, looking considerably less excited.
Two blondes. One honey blonde with white jeans and matching tee-shirt and a pair of boots which look out of place for Vegas. After all, it’s nearly one hundred degrees outside.
The other, a paler blonde, is wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt and sandals.
The last girl has auburn colored hair. She’s dressed in a pair of ankle-length fitted black pants and a short-sleeved lacy black top, her long hair tied up in a high ponytail.
She turns and smiles at her friends.
“Jack, are you listening?”
“Yeah,” I groan.
I wasn’t. I was too busy wondering why my heart thumped erratically.
“Don’t do it,” Harvey yells and I turn to look.
A couple is leaving the bar to get married on the strip. She's wearing a short white dress, him a white shirt and cream pants.
I mean, seriously?
