She hasn’t a clue, only lured by the flashing lights and the ringing out all around—that’s so Bree.
“Would I win the bet if I killed her?” Jade asks.
“If she mentions her winnings one more time, I’m going to throttle her,” Charlie says, smiling.
“Don’t kill her, beat her,” I say, linking my arm to the crook of her elbow, giving her a wink. “Anyway, who decides who wins? It has to be the majority decision.”
Bree takes her seat, turns and grins, and starts to work the machine. Jade and I stand back and watch her for some time as the screen in front of her flashes and plays some tunes. Bree whoops as the machine does something silly with lights and music.
“I’ve got a bonus,” she screams, then laughs. “My bonus got a bonus.”
This is Bree, so extroverted. But Jade, Charlie, and I smile at her excited face and her jumping on the stool in excitement. Her mane of red hair bounces as she claps her hands and presses the button, excitedly waiting for the reels to stop.
Her facial reactions and arm-waving excitement don’t disappoint. Charlie, Jade, and I stand laughing behind her, taking in the best show ever. Our roars of laughter are loud as she slaps the hand of a passerby. He doesn’t have a clue.
“Perhaps this show is the craziest holiday moment,” I remark.
Jade hugs me and grins. “We never stood a chance.”
The machine finally stops and damn it... she only goes and wins. Not the jackpot, but bloody hell, she is so flipping lucky.
“Stand,” I hear, and I stride and glance around at the real casino.
This is so exciting. I’ve never gambled in my life and even had to watch some online videos before we arrived. But blackjack is the easiest to learn, though poker is something I played when I was younger.
“Blackjack or poker,” I say to Charlie as Jade takes a seat on the machine next to Bree. “Let’s live dangerously. Hell, if I lose all my money on the first day, would that mean I’m the craziest?”
“Blackjack,” Charlie agrees. “I can’t play poker. My face is a giveaway.”
“Yeah, blackjack is easier.” I have some knowledge of the game from university, though I’m sure playing with real money and not pretend is going to make a difference because I’m not a gambler. But if I’m brave and hold my nerve, like I did when I used to play, I’ll at least double or triple my money. And as I watch the faces on the poker table, I know I’ll lose my life savings if I sit there.
I pat Bree on the back. “We’re going to the blackjack table.”
“Shush,” she hisses. The machine stops, and she jumps out of her seat, fist-pumping the air.
Taking our seats at the blackjack table, we exchange glances and pass our cash to the dealer, the sound of shuffling cards filling the air. Over the smooth, green felt, he pushes our chips to us.
With a flick of his wrist, the dealer expertly tosses the cards in front of each player at the table. Charlie and I are among the five individuals seated here.
The dealer shows a six of clubs.
I turn my cards and note them.
The first person is an older guy. He is probably in his seventies, wearing an enormous cowboy hat and a gold medallion hangs around his neck. He plays his hand, showing a nineteen.
The next guy is a much younger guy, surfer type. His shoulder-length blond hair curls against his bronzed neck. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he has his eye on Charlie. At least not by me.
He takes another card from the dealer, then throws his cards down, showing that he busts at twenty-two.
A sudden whoop breaks through my thoughts. It’s swiftly followed by the familiar sound of a machine paying out before laughter fills the air. I don’t think it’s the jackpot; I think those sounds are rare, and when they happen, the entire casino looks.
“Miss.”
I spin my attention back to the table, noticing it’s now my turn. I request another card and smile when the dealer throws me a nine. The other players give me a look of ‘hard luck.’
I turn my cards over and smile—twenty-one. Already holding a ten and a two, I never expect to get a nine, just hoped for something lower.
“Nice,” Charlie whispers, holding eighteen.
