Page 32 of Samhain

“Sir,” the dealer said. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yep.” I looked ridiculous, like I didn’t know what I was doing, but I’d come here penniless, and if I left that way, I’d call it square.

I had a point to prove. I needed to know I wasn’t cursed, that I’d just had a good night in Vegas and the odds were still stacked against me just like any other?—

“Blackjack,” the dealer said, and the lights above the table went off, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The guards. The other patrons. The girls dancing in the cages nearby. “Winner! Winner!”

I’d just won…$750,000…totaling $1.2 million…in one night.

This drew loads of attention, and after a tense conversation where I managed to convince them I’d just gotten lucky, the hotel personnel kindly escorted me to the airport. They even stuck around to make sure I got on the flight.

What a couple of gentlemen.

But I could no longer deny the truth. Something was definitely wrong with me.

“She said she gave me a gift,” Ivy had told us. “You don’t think fairies are real…do you?”

“I have this feeling in my gut,” Miri said the other night. “I think Ivy might have been right about the fairies.”

I’d heard about them in stories and read about them in plays from the Renaissance. There wasn’t a part of me that believed they could exist. But…what if they did? What if Ivy was right? What if Siobhan really had fucked with us?

I should tell her. I should tell someone. But what proof did I have? A gut feeling and a good night of gambling? Who would believe me? I barely believed myself…until I got back to LAX.

That short flight had never felt more lonely. I raged against Evelyn Washington and Kellan Fairfax and the whole royal family. At the stupid media and the paparazzi and a public hungry to eat it up. I hated Lex and Ivy and Miri, all three of them. If I’d never met them, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken. If I’d never fallen for them, never followed them into those stupid fucking woods, I wouldn’t be wondering if I was having a quarterlife crisis.

Was there such a thing as being too lucky?

I suddenly regretted not having paid more attention when Ivy did all that research. Why had she blocked me? Why wouldn’t she just talk to me?

To make matters worse, the plane was an hour late getting in due to someone on the flight before us having a medical emergency. We sat on the tarmac for another two hours while we waited for a gate to open up.

Going to California was the stupidest thing I’d ever done, and for what? I had an agent, but no real career prospects. I’d lost my best friend, my girlfriend, and my star-crossed lover. My father thought I was a joke. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was a pipe dream. Maybe I should’ve thrown in the towel and gone back to Chicago. I had enough money to set myself up now. I could buy a nice house, find a partner, and settle down with two-point-five kids and a golden retriever.

My bitterness burned my eyes, tasting sour on my tongue.

Getting off that plane, I hated my life. I hated LA. I thought I’d made the worst decision anybody could make, all for the sake of ambition. I wanted Hollywood with a fury, and I’d do anything to get it. But my mind had never been more filled with doubt than it was trying to catch a taxi back to Miri’s Malibu dream pad. I had to pack up my shit and find a place more my speed. I had to figure out if I was delusional or actually possessed by some rotten form of a fairy “gift.”

I went for the handle on the yellow car door at the exact same moment as someone else, and I jerked my hand back, looking up to meet the eyes of the person I’d have to fight for the ride home.

My jaw nearly hit the ground.

Anthony Michaels, my director from the Royal Theater Company, stood in front of me with an astonished look on his face. He hadn’t aged a day in five years.

“Anthony?” I said.

“Holy shit!” He threw his arms out to give me a hug. “Carter! Look at you! You’ve filled out.”

I laughed. “It’s good to see you.”

“Where ya headed?” His grin nearly blinded me.

“Malibu.”

Anthony’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head. “Not anymore. Get in the cab.”

I furrowed my eyebrows but did as he said, if only so I could have the time to catch up with him. I mean, c’mon, this chance encounter on this random Tuesday at one of the busiest airports in the country? One in a million.

“What are you doing in LA?” he asked once we were on the road.

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