Page 82 of The Price of Love

Finally, I take my eyes off Dimples, and my gaze lands on Shadow.

Shadow waves from across the room. She’s dressed in a tight black dress. She has curves for days. I give her a quick wave and look away, not wanting Storm or Dimples to think I’m checking Shadow out. I ain’t since the only person I wanna look at is Dimples.

I take a deep breath, trying to pull my shit together.

“Pour us a shot,” Dimples says.

“Liquid courage?” I ask.

“I just need one,” she responds.

Without thinking, my gaze goes straight to her hands.

She chuckles and holds out a steady hand. “I’m good.”

“Then you may be better than me.”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s the matter?”

“You! How can I concentrate with you walking around looking like that?”

Storm strolls over to the bar with Shadow on her arm. They look so natural together. I’m happy for Storm but envious, too.

“You might have to help me out. It’s been a while since I’ve tended bar,” Storm says. She motions between Dimples and Shadow. “I offered to help these two instead, but they say they don’t want me.”

Shadow straightens Storm’s bow tie and gives her a mischievous grin. “I never said I didn’t want you.”

As the night goes on, the air is thick with a combination of warm bodies, sweat from nervous gamblers, wood smoke, and the sharp smell of cash on the tables.

The lighting is low, nothing like the bright lights of a Vegas casino, but it sets the mood. Shadows fall across the players’ faces as they study their opponents. Tension ratchets up as cash changes hands, and the winners and losers’ moods go in opposite directions.

Two blackjack tables dominate one side of the room. Rouge, in her crisp white shirt, still wearing her signature red bandanna, is dealing at one table, snapping cards against the felt like she’s done this all her life. Across the room, Halo stands at one of the two poker tables.

There’s no music, only the muffled shuffle of cards and muted voices. Occasionally, a gambler will groan or pound the table in frustration, but that’s about it.

Dimples, Shadow, and Nadine circulate among the tables, delivering drinks and hors d’oeuvres. All night, I’ve been fighting not to stare at Dimples. Storm hasn’t done as well since she’s barely taken her eyes off Shadow. The trio has attracted plenty of attention.

Early on, Nails had to intervene when Storm jumped the bar and rushed to Shadow’s side after a gambler behaved too familiar. Shadow, in the kindest way, asked Storm to back off, telling her she’d handled bigger creeps on her own. That didn’t seem to reassure Storm, but it worked since she’d stayed behind the bar. Though I could tell she was itching to throttle someone.

With about an hour left, I’m leaning against the bar next to Nails. Storm pops three beers open; she slides a beer across the bar to Nails and me.

“We did it.” Storm holds up her bottle. “Pulled this shit off with an inexperienced crew. Good work.”

We clink our bottles together.

“What do you think, Prospect?” Storm asks. “Are you up for doing this again?”

“Yes, President. Anything the club needs from me.”

Storm shakes her head. “No, give it to me straight. If you weren’t a prospect, would you sign up again?”

I pretend to consider it, but with the money I’m making tonight and the bonus of watching Dimples, the answer is easy. “I would. It’s been fun.”

Nails slaps me on the back. “Good. Because we’re gonna need you.” She motions toward where Dimples, Shadow, and Nadine are standing talking. With time winding down, the gamblers have become more absorbed in their games and less interested in food or drinks. “I’m hoping we get our regular servers back.”

“And our dealers,” Storm says. “Rouge and Halo deserve kudos.”

Nails chuckles. “I think Halo’s enjoying it. She might’ve found her calling.”