The Prince and the Player Read online

  Her long dark hair is styled in a low ponytail that hangs in a dramatic curl over one shoulder, and a grey-haired man in a tux is leaning toward her grinning like a wolf. I spot his telltale earpiece, and a smile lifts the corner of my mouth. Good work, Little Sister.

  She blinks those emerald eyes at him, and I watch as her slim hand gingerly touches his forearm. She’ll keep him distracted for the next several minutes, and if she’s feeling brave, he just might discover his watch or gold cufflinks are gone an hour after she leaves him. He’ll never suspect her. Who would suspect her angelic sweetness hides devilishly light fingers?

  Only two other patrons are at the roulette table when I arrive. One is an elderly woman with silver-blue hair and a navy sweatshirt with “May contain alcohol” plastered across the front in white.

  She’s throwing chips around, vaguely distracting the dealer. Across from her is a guy who looks barely twenty-one. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt with a bit of shimmer in the fabric. As I open my clutch, he gives me a sly grin, but I turn to the stocky casino worker. His hairline is receding, and he wears an ill-fitting cummerbund.

  “Fifty in dollar chips.” I pass him a crisp bill.

  He slides me fifty round blue plaques the size of my palm, and I glance at the sign telling me it’s a dollar table. I’ll have enough time to lose a few rounds before Seth appears and the con begins.

  My heart beats faster. The rush of what we’re doing is more powerful than any drug, and the fine hairs on my shoulders tweak when I spot Seth’s auburn head across the room at the entrance. He’s dressed in a beige linen jacket and black slacks, and to complete the look, he’s added a pair of fake horn-rimmed glasses—very hipster.

  Reaching forward, the beleaguered dealer starts the wheel, and everyone places his or her bets. It’s a double-zero table, which is the least favorable to gamblers, so I place two corner bets and five chips on the black. The little ball clangs into play, spinning faster than the eye can track it around the wheel.

  “No more bets!” The dealer calls, passing his hand over the table.

  With a clatter, the silver ball shoots toward the center of the wheel, bouncing up once again to the rim before landing solidly on seventeen black.

  “I WON ONE!” The old lady screams, pushing both arms in the air. She does a little shimmy as the chips are quickly slid away and the winners paid. “I WON ONE! Did you see that???”

  I smile, not bothering to point out I doubled my stack of five. My job is not to attract attention, although with the way this crowd is dressed, it’s practically impossible. Mental note: Hollywood, Florida, is not Reno, Nevada. Dress down.

  “I’m feeling lucky tonight!” Granny doubles her stack of chips on a corner bet, and I leave my ten on black.

  Seth is at the table now, and he nods all around. “Mind if I join y’all?” His voice is loud, and his accent is exaggerated.

  I don’t engage. My role is that of cool disinterest, and I reach down to adjust my gold cuff bracelet. If all goes as planned, he’s about to hit a winning streak.

  “Y’all from around here?” He grins big at the old woman and the boy. “I’m from a little ole town in Kentucky.”

  “I’m from Dallas!” The lady answers equally loudly. “My church group took a bus all the way here!”

  Well, hallelujah. I look over my shoulder as Seth monopolizes the table. I don’t like leaving Ava alone in skeezy joints like this. A server appears, mistaking me for wanting a drink.

  “Gin and tonic,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice low.

  “It’s my birthday!” The young guy loudly announces. I’m beginning to think he may contain alcohol as well.

  “Well, I declare, let me guess!” Seth is really laying it on thick. “Twenty one?”

  “That’s right!” Baby’s ears pink, and he glances at me again.

  My eyebrows rise when he gives me another grin coupled with a wink this time. Dream on, little man.

  “Dealer, here’s a hyundai!” Seth announces, passing him a hundred dollar bill, and I almost do laugh at that intentional screw-up. “Mr. Bourie says to get in and get out fast. That’s the way to play roulette, right? Win quick and walk away?”

  “Who’s Mr. Bourie?” Grandma asks.

  “Oh, he wrote the book on how to play roulette and win. Steve Bourie. You have to look him up.”

  The dealer’s stoic face doesn’t change as he pushes Seth’s hundred into the drop box with a clear plastic paddle. A hundred plastic chips are shoved across to my covert partner in crime.

  “He actually says not to play roulette at all…” Seth continues getting cozy with the old lady.

  I reach down to adjust my gold cuff when a deep command from over my shoulder startles me.

  “Fifty,” the accented voice says, and a tall, elegant-looking gentleman in an expensive blazer leans beside me. I glance up as he straightens. He slides a long black wallet into his coat pocket, and a gold pinky ring catches my eye.

  He smiles, and I blink away, trying not to move my panicked gaze to Seth. He hasn’t broken character yet, but with this intruder right behind me, it’s going to be impossible to activate the switch without being seen.

  A tremor of fear moves through my chest, and a tiny bead of sweat tickles down the line in the center of my back. I’m breathing faster, and I reach up to push another strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable, mademoiselle.” The older gentleman’s voice is right beside me, over my shoulder.

  “Not at all.” I’m irritated by his proximity, and I shift to the right to get away from him. The only problem is I’m now closer to Birthday Boy.

  Shit. Our plan is coming apart.

  “Why you sound like a foreign gentleman,” Seth says, attracting my unwanted tablemate’s attention. “Where does one get an accent like that?”

  “My accent is Monagascan, monsieur.”

  “I’ll be damned. I didn’t know they spoke French in Madagascar!”

  “No, monsieur, it’s Monagasco.”

  Seth has the man’s complete attention as I slide all my winnings onto the black space. The dealer passes his hand over the table.

  “No more bets!” he calls.

  I dip my finger inside my gold cuff and press the tiny button hidden inside. The silver ball immediately drops, bounces, and then swerves into the tray labeled fifteen black.

  “Holy shit! Ho-lee shit!” Seth hops off his stool and does a little jig. “I WON!”

  “SO DID I!!!” Granny looks like she might have a heart attack. She’s holding her chest heaving hard, and I notice a security agent drifting to where we’re sitting.

  We only have one more spin before we have to get the hell out of here. Odds against roulette players add up faster than any other game in the casino. Our winning streak can’t last long, or we’ll be detained and questioned.

  “I feel as if I’m playing the wrong end of the table,” Frenchie says, sliding closer to me.

  I’m trapped with nowhere to go. Another scoot to my right, and I’ll be in Mr. Twenty-One’s lap. Leaving my two hundred chips on black, I attempt to angle my body so it’s away from Frenchie’s line of sight.

  Movement behind the dealer causes me to glance up. Security has his eyes on me. Now I’m really freaking.

  Seth happily moves all his chips to the other end of the table. “Mr. Bourie says the odds build up fast on roulette.” I watch as he places two huge corner bets.

  In a subtle movement, I pass all my chips over to red before quickly returning to my contorted state. I turn my body so I can get my finger inside my gold cuff without being seen.

  “No more bets!” The dealer says.

  Security’s eyes are fixed on me, and they narrow. They follow a burning line down my bare shoulder, along my arm, to my wrist, when all of a sudden a slim, olive hand appears on his lapel. His eyes leave me fast and then widen as Ava steps between us, her beautiful face lined with worry.


  “Excuse me!” I can just hear her dewy purr. My little sister has perfected the art of innocent tease. “I’m so worried. I seem to have lost my handbag, and it has all my chips in it… my phone…”

  Seth’s eyes are on me, his hillbilly pretense gone. Ava’s handled security, now I have to finish this job. The ball is slowing on the track, and I pray I haven’t missed my chance. My breath stills as I activate the device hidden in my bracelet. At once the ball drops, bounces up again, and hovers in air. It seems to wobble uncertainly. Sickness fills the pit of my stomach. A roaring noise is in my ears.

  All this work, and we’re going to lose every last…

  Thirty-two red.

  “WE DID IT!” The old lady shrieks. “We WON! WE WON!!!!”

  She’s jumping up and down, hugging Seth so hard his glasses bounce on his nose. He’s grinning, eyes sparkling.

  “God Damn!” Seth slaps the table. “I’m hotter than a Billy goat’s ass in a pepper patch!”

  I do my best not to burst out laughing as the silver ball rides around in a circle sitting on that red thirty-two. I’m just about to stand when something icy-cold and hard slips between my breasts.

  “Oh!” I jump up, clutching my chest.

  “Mon dieu! I’m so sorry!” The Frenchman steps back, facing me.

  My eyes widen, and I hold my arms tight at the top of my ribcage. “What the HELL did you do?”

  His dark brows furrow. “I must have lost my grip… The excitement.” He seems to be trying not to laugh.

  My arms are tight around my torso when I turn to the dealer. “Cash me out.” I snap.

  The man quickly slides my chips away and passes me a five hundred dollar bill. With one hand, I slip it into my white clutch and start to leave, but the Frenchman’s fingers close like a steel trap around my forearm.

  “I’m so sorry, mademoiselle, but that was a thousand-dollar plaque I dropped!”

  I can feel the hard piece of plastic wedged between my skin and the side of my bra, and I’m holding it tight with my arms so it doesn’t fall out.

  “Then you should’ve held onto it better.” I yank my arm from his grip and walk quickly away from the table.

  In the background I notice Seth and the old lady shaking hands and cashing out. Seth says something about Mr. Bourie advising when to walk away, and the old woman nods, taking his arm. The dealer’s face is confusion mixed with embarrassment, but I don’t have time to waste. I’m across the gambling area nearing the exit with the foreigner hot on my heels.

  “Mademoiselle… Miss! Wait!” He’s after me, and I see security closing in around him.

  “Take it easy, pal.” A hearty growl cuts through the din, and I’m feeling more confident than ever I’m getting out of here with a thousand-dollar bonus.

  “You don’t understand,” he continues. “That lady. She has my money!”

  Ava is at the door waiting for me, her eyes round. I’m doing my best not to run when I hear the same meaty voice calling after me.

  “Lady! Stop!” My shoulders tense. “Stop her,” the guard says, and at once, another man in a suit steps into my path, blocking my way.

  I deflect, taking a step to the side. “Oh!” I cry softly.

  “Hang on a second, sister.” The beefy security guard holds both hands up to the sides. “We just need to ask you a question.”

  My sister gives me a subtle nod and immediately disappears into the coatroom. The other guard and the Frenchman join us.

  “Forgive me,” the man says. “I… er… how do you say? I dropped my chip in her… er… décolletage?”

  “Miss,” the guard behind me says, “do you have the man’s money?”

  I turn to face them, but I’m not backing down. “I don’t know what he dropped down my top.” I infuse my voice with venom, narrowing my eyes. “But I can assure you, I’m not allowing him to retrieve it!”

  “Er… no. Of course not.” The older gentleman glances to the guards. “However, if you could perhaps step into the dressing room?”

  He gestures toward the coatroom, and I make a show of exhaling deeply. “If you insist.” Squaring my shoulders, I step toward the narrow space where Ava waits.

  “But… no. Excuse me?” He calls. I pause, but don’t turn. “Would you mind leaving your bag with the guard?”

  My head snaps, and I look over my shoulder at him. “What do you think I’m going to do? Hide it? I’ve already said you dropped something in my top.”

  “It was a thousand dollar plaque, Mademoiselle.”

  “So you say. I don’t know what it was,” I snap.

  “I can assure you it was.”

  Flashing my eyes at the guards, they both shrug. “If you don’t mind handing me your purse. I won’t open it.”

  Pushing my white clutch against the guard’s chest, I storm into the coatroom as if I’m highly offended. Actually, I’m pretty impressed at this Frenchman’s audacity. I’m not sure what he’s after, but he’s barking up the wrong tree with Zelda Wilder.

  Once inside, I hastily unfasten the beaded collar of my dress. Ava is right behind me, holding the top so my breasts are covered.

  “He must’ve been working hard to get that thing down your top,” she whispers. “It’s a halter!”

  I reach down to lift out… sure enough, a powder blue thousand-dollar rectangular chip. “Well what do you know,” I sigh.

  We both stare at it in wonder for a moment. All of our cons are small, petty-cash jobs that build to real money. It’s the first time we’ve held the real deal in our hands all at once.

  “Here, quick!” My sister snaps opens her clutch and whips out a red and black fifty-dollar chip, exchanging it for the plaque, which she drops into her bag. “This is what was in your top.”

  Our eyes meet, and hers flash with determination. “You think I can get away with it?” My voice is hushed.

  “Who’s going to prove what he dropped? You already said you didn’t see what it was. He made the mistake. And who the hell is he anyway, to go around dropping shit down your top? He deserves it. Pervert. Now fasten up. Hurry!”

  My heart beats faster as I do the buttons behind my neck. “If we get away with this, we’re driving to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow and chartering a sailboat. We’re going to spend the whole day on the water.”

  “Good thing I bought a new bathing suit!” She steps to a small room and shuts the door. “I’ll meet you back at our hotel in an hour.”

  “I’ll settle this then I have to meet up with Seth,” I pause before going to the door. “You did good tonight, Sis!”

  “I got my bonus. Be careful.”

  Three men glare at me expectantly when I step from the small room. I square my shoulders and push my hair back. Striding across the space to the men, I resume my offended act.

  “I don’t know what kind of con you’re running, Mister, but that wasn’t a thousand dollar chip in my top.” Shoving the red and black plastic in his hand, I reach out for my clutch from the guard. “Nice try.”

  “No!” Frenchie shouts. “This is not right! I did not drop fifty dollars down your shirt! Give me my money!”

  “I will not stand here and be harassed any longer!” Flashing my eyes at the guards, I zero in on the weaker of the two. “I am not accustomed to such treatment, and I know this is not how the Hard Rock HQ expects their female guests to be treated. This is sexual harassment!”

  Both guards look constipated and confused, and I don’t give them a chance to collect their thoughts. I’m making my way out the door while the Frenchman is still arguing, lapsing into his native tongue at times as they hold him from chasing after me.

  Running out into the night, I wave at a yellow cab waiting on the corner. He lurches forward, and I jump in, slamming the door. “Ramada Hollywood Downtown!”

  The cab heads south, leaving the Hollywood reservation and driving toward the coast. The radio plays softly, and the guy isn’t chatty. Looking in my clutch, the five hundred is still intact al
ong with a few hundreds I picked up playing blackjack. We’ll pool it all once I get to Seth’s place.

  In minutes we’re turning into the cheap hotel parking lot. I pass a ten to the driver. “Keep the change,” and I’m out the door, slamming it behind me.

  The air is heavy and thick with heat. It smells like rain and cooling asphalt, and I give the parking lot a quick scan. I’m alone, but I see Seth’s green Civic in the lot.

  I pop open my clutch and pull out the door card he gave me, swiping it so I can enter the courtyard. Tall palm trees outline the perimeter, but I can tell it’s empty. A kidney-shaped swimming pool glows blue in the center. It’s also empty, but as I’m making my way to the balcony stairs, I hear a woman’s gravelly voice.

  “Zee,” she calls. “Over here.”

  Squinting in the dim light I see two figures sitting at a table in shadows. Hustling toward them, I recognize Seth. His coat is off, and the fake glasses are shoved up on his head. He’s counting out our winnings.

  “Think it’s safe to do that here?” I pull out a heavy iron chair and drop into it with a sigh.

  “What happened to you?” Helen takes a long pack of brown cigarettes from her bag and flicks her Bic. The small yellow light briefly illuminates her “May Contain Alcohol” sweatshirt, and I can’t help a laugh now that we’re safely away.

  “Where the hell did you get that shirt?”

  She looks down and coughs a congested laugh. “On the strip in Fort Lauderdale. This shop has every kind of shirt you can imagine.”

  “I bet,” I exhale, but Seth leans forward.

  “Okay, what you got Zee?” All trace of accent is gone, and he’s back to flat Kansas, as nondescript as you can get.

  Opening my clutch, I scrape out all the contents. “The five hundred.” He takes it and adds it to the pile. “And a few hyundais I picked up at blackjack before you arrived.”

  He grins and waves it away. “Keep ’em. Your winnings outside the con are yours.”

  “Thanks,” I say, leaning back. I can’t help wondering if he caught what happened after his big win—my encounter with our foreign tablemate.