Page 23 of Underground Prince

“Talk,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s why I first noticed you.”

“Because I’m such a chatterbox?”

“The opposite. You understand what it is not to fill silence. To clog it with meaningless words.”

I angled my head, taking another sip in preparation of throwing him off his scent. If he was going to keep himself under lock and key, then so the hell would I. “Ah. And communicate with my pool cue instead.”

“I let you win.”

“Sure you did, Mr. Incredible.”

“I’m interested in what goes on in that mind of yours,” he said. He was back to pinning me down. I squirmed, though just as fast as he caught me, the flames banked. “I’m wondering what happened to you.”

Every piece of me, every cell in my body, shriveled up and died. After a while, I said, “One thing.”

He said nothing.

“One major event happened to me. But that’s all I’m saying about it.”

Theo’s answer was a soft murmur. “I understand, more than you know.”

I swallowed, memorizing the grains of wood spiraling across the bar. I thought this whole night was about not trading trauma. “I believe you.”

“So then, what led you to become a cocktail waitress in my game rooms?”

“I wanted it,” I answered, shrugging.

“Did you now,” he said. “Are you sure it wasn’t to take naps standing up?”

“That was on my first day.” I straightened from my slump in the stool and glared. “You had me in a tutu. I’m entitled to catnaps when I’m French Maid Barbie in a moldy basement with men who smell like a weird mix of sawdust and popcorn.”

“Forget the pandering that goes in to keeping that caste of clientele happy. Think about the objective, the main artery of this beast whose heart you’ve entered. Poker hasn’t caught your interest?”

“It’s a complicated sport.” I lifted my beer.

“I thought your boredom, or…observation, as you call it, was more because the waitressing part doesn’t suit you.”

“What?” Was he firing me? Despite all this tête-à-tête tonight? “I’m waking up. Swear.”

“I believe it.” Theo set his empty bottle down, and coupled his pause with a prolonged stare. “In between those dozes of yours, you are waking up.”

The caution in his tone should’ve caught me off guard. Instead, it carbonated my blood. Theo knew. He observed my studies of that table, and saw something even I didn’t grasp until now. “So teach me.”

It was a burst of thought, a second of clarity where I realized this was what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to be in the background, serving in lingerie and smelling of buffalo sauce and spilled beer as I scampered about ensuring the men were content. I wanted in.

Theo opened his mouth to respond, probably with a no, so I jumped in. “You say I’m bored, maybe I am. I came into this because I needed to. I wanted this feeling. I can’t describe it, but it’s almost like…like hope …” I trailed off, and as I suspected, he didn't fill the silence. “I’m a quick study. Tests, quizzes—it’s all come easy to me. I’m good at it. I want to know poker.”

“This is a game,” he finally said, and I almost didn’t hear him. “But it’s not for nothing.”

“That’s what I’m—”

“This isn’t something where you can just score a passing grade and give your teacher an apple.” He inched forward so his scent wafted over me, strong and enthralling despite the hours that had passed between us.

“I see behind those eyes now,” he said. “Anger. Bravery.”

I blinked.

“But that’s only the surface. Below there’s agony, masquerading as courage. You’re still frightened, desperate for some kind of monumental change for reasons that are probably dear to you, but you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

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