Page 43 of Lady Luck

It would have been nice if it could have done so without first incinerating me.

“Hey, hey. I’m here now. I’ve done a lot of growing this year, and maybe you have too. You’ve always been a bit too eager, but maybe you’ve learned to rein that in now. I’m ready for us to work together again.” He paused, then added, “Or even be together,” as if it were an afterthought.

He reached forward and grasped my upper arm, and I glared at his hand, imagining fire shooting from my eyeballs and singeing the blond hair on his knuckles.

“I thought you’d be happy. I have some ideas about getting Lady Luck back on track and to the next level. I’d love your input.”

How magnanimous.

I shifted back so his arm was forced to drop. Seeming undisturbed by the move, he sat back in his own stool and took a sip from the stupid, tiny cup of espresso that he still somehow hadn’t finished.

I wanted to smash it. With a melon baller.

Is this what rage felt like? I really wasn’t familiar with it. I’d have to ask Cody. All of this felt like a sign to tell him everything, and I was finally understanding just how unhealthy it’d been to keep anything from him.

For now, I visualized a wave of water from the Gulf dousing the flames of my anger and looked up to meet AJ’s still-pitying stare with some semblance of neutrality.

“Is that why you wanted to meet or was there something else?”

Misreading the room, or maybe just misreading me as being the same person he knew before—the one who would have done just about anything to shun discomfort and fix, fix, fix the situation—he smiled pleasantly, apparently interpreting my expression as acceptance.

As if I would be fine with a lifelong friend crossing that line with me and then leaving town the very next day without a word. And then, months later, saying it had been both a celebration and a good luck ritual to sleep with me.

God. The rage was back.

“Do you remember the first time we did Lady Luck? All those hours we spent with the old croupier, trying to learn the technique? And then during your debut, your hands were sweating so badly that I had to get a hand towel to keep under the table?” He laughed at the reminiscence. “I wish we had video from back in your mom’s day, but the pictures are pretty good. I still have some if you want them. I already put them in the safe in Dad’s office. I was thinking you should start wearing the crown like she did.”

On and on like that he went, and I heard none of it. I really didn’t appreciate him holding photos of Mom over my head. I’d have to really think about the best way to get those, especially if they weren’t the same ones Grandmother kept in her old albums. Another reason to tell Cody everything—I’m sure he’d have some devious ideas for obtaining them. I’d always wished I had more photos of her from before Dad swept her off her feet when she was only nineteen years old and took her away from her life as a casino main act.

AJ slapped the table hard enough to rattle the mugs. “Are you even listening to me?” he hissed.

My eyes narrowed as I focused on where his hand still lay splayed on the high top before I answered, applying no gloss, smoothing no edges.

I've been asked that question so much lately. Too much.

“No.”

And then I took the last sip of my cappuccino, gathered my things, and left.

I couldn’t recall any of the trek from Caffeina to the resort’s indoor pool.

But the cleansing, borderline euphoric feeling of diving into the saltwater pool? Swimming until my mind and body were exhausted enough to allow the naked vulnerability and clear mind that I’d need for my confession?

Those were vivid, technicolor memories.

As was the manic energy that took over my body as I perched on the pool’s edge, dried my hands on a Fortuna spa towel, and called Cody.

And proceeded to leave him the world’s longest and rawest voicemail followed by a series of stream-of-consciousness text-message epilogues.

I’m not truly in crisis, but I needed you to know. And I know you’re probably angry with me right now for not telling you, and I deserve that. Don’t do anything crazy, I really am fine. Just call me when you can and we can talk it out? I love you big time

Seriously don’t leave Austin or your adventures at sea because of me *salute emoji*

Hah, that rhymed

Oh God I’m turning my phone off now *cringe emoji*

btw I forgot to mention my trailer is decrepit and I’m now looking for somewhere new to live.

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