Page 22 of The Bluffing Game

“Gigi, don’t,” I cut her off. I don’t need to embarrass her.

“Sage isn’t going to want you, Dalton. I bet she doesn’t even know the real you. Not like I do.” Her face is cold now. “She’s young, she’s naive, she thinks she’s so strong and confident. She wouldn’t survive one day in your world.”

“I’m not in that world anymore.”

“You’re never out of that world, Dalton—we both know that.” She pushes her glasses back up her nose and spins around. “Anyway, I have cash to collect and deposit.” She walks away, stops, and then looks back at me. “Don’t even bother wasting your time with that girl, Dalton. She’s never going to be the one for you.”

This time, I turn around and walk away from her. Little does Gigi know that Sage is looking for a man who is the exact opposite of me. She’s searching for a husband. And while there are many things in my life I don’t know, I do know one thing: I’m never going to find myself in marital bliss. I am never going to get married. It isn’t in my life plan whatsoever.

Chapter 7

SAGE

“This is Hooky’s.” Lucia stops outside what looks like a wooden shack with loud, pounding music emanating from inside.

Painted wooden signs with different locations in different colors and a bunch of broken clay pots outside the building.

Lucia catches me looking around suspiciously, and she starts laughing. “It looks like a dump, but trust me, it’s not. Hooky’s is the dive bar for all the cool kids in town.”

“Or those of us who want to think we’re cool,” Izzy says and hooks arms with Rosie. “Trust us, it’s fun.”

Rosie’s looking at me, waiting for my decision. I don’t really want to go inside Hooky’s. It’s not the sort of place where billionaires hang out, but then again, I’m not exactly dressed to impress.

“I guess it’s fine,” I say reluctantly. “Reminds me of where we’re going to be living,” I say with a laugh as we all walk through the saloon-type door.

I feel like I’m in the Wild West, not the richest city in California. The interior is not much better than the exterior, but it’s fun inside. There’s a jukebox to the right, with flashing colors and Johnny Cash booming through the speakers.

Two guys with beers in their hands nod at us from next to the dartboard, and Lucia offers them a wave before turning to the bar, which is crowded with men and women alike, chatting, dancing, laughing, and drinking like that’s what they were made for.

“Rosie and Izzy, grab that booth in the corner,” Lucia shouts over the loud chatter and points to the side, where there’s an empty booth next to a pool table. “Sage and I will grab the drinks. It’s happy hour on well drinks. What do you girls want?”

“I’ll take a rum and Coke,” Izzy says quickly. “I need to get drunk tonight. And fast.”

“I’ll have a vodka Sprite, please,” Rosie adds, and then they head over to the booth.

Lucia and I make our way to the only empty spot at the bar. Lucia slides in and waves at an older man serving drinks, then turns to me.

“That’s Gary. He’s one of the owners, along with his wife, Patsy. They’re originally from Ireland.” She changes her accent, but she sounds more Southern than she does Irish, and I laugh loudly. “What? My accent sucks, huh? I guess there’s a reason I’m not in Hollywood.” She giggles. “Are you hungry? Shall we get some appetizers to share?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” I try not to think about my rapidly decreasing bank account. I have no business being here. “We can’t stay long though. We need to head out to look for some furniture and cleaning supplies for our new place later tonight.”

I shudder internally at the thought of the dump we rented. I can still see the small, dark droppings all over the floor and the dead cockroaches. The place is a dump, and I’m not looking forward to living there, but I can’t afford another night at the motel after tonight.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you hadn’t moved in yet.” Her eyes widen, and she moves forward. “Izzy and I will help you.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” I say quickly. “We just need to clean it out and get some sort of beds and a couch.”

“We will help,” she insists. “We love shopping. Let’s grab a drink and some food, and then we can leave and get your place ready and go all night.”

“Oh, I don’t know …” My voice trails off. While I appreciate her offer, I’m embarrassed for her to see where we’re living. “It’s not really nice and likely rodent-infested and⁠—”

“Oh, hell no. It’s a shit hole, huh?” Lucia looks shocked. “It has rats? Where are you living?”

“It’s down off of Pruitt Way and⁠—”

“I think I know where you’re talking about. The old apartments that look like sleazy men take strippers there?”

“I guess.”