Motel. Pool. (21 page)

He didn’t bother checking the name of the betting place. It didn’t quite deserve to be called a casino, although it had a weird resemblance to a Wild West saloon. The room was big and dark. Off to the right, a bar ran the length of the wall. A half-dozen men and women sitting on stools gazed blankly at the grainy TV screens or at the video poker screens set into the bar. The two bartenders were deep in conversation with each other, ignoring everyone else.

To the left were several banks of slot machines, jangling and blinking obscenely. And beyond them were a bunch of gaming tables that looked grungy even from the doorway. The dealers looked dead-eyed but faintly menacing.
Great
, Tag thought.
Now I’m imagining zombies instead of ghosts
.

Nobody was at the blackjack table except the dealer, who was surprisingly young and good-looking. His black hair was gelled into spikes, and his cheeks and chin were dark with stubble. He wore a maroon shirt and black vest. His eyes were so dark that Tag couldn’t make out the pupils.

“What’s the maximum bet?” Tag asked.

“How much do you have?”

Tag lifted his chin. “I’ll start with ten grand.”

The dealer showed sharp teeth when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start.”

After pulling a stack of bills from his pocket, Tag set them on the felt. The dealer’s hand was almost too fast to follow as he grabbed the money and replaced it with a tall stack of chips. He counted the chips three times. “Wouldn’t want you to think I’m cheating you,” he said with a grin.

“I’m sure you’re honest as the day is long.”

“Mister, I am a man of honor. I always keep my word and I never, ever renege on a promise.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s play.”

The dealer’s tag said his name was Dane. He was a flashy shuffler, putting a lot more height and wrist action into it than was strictly necessary. “Cut it?” he asked when he was done.

Tag pulled a card and stuck it at random in the stack. Dane smiled at him as if he’d done something clever and placed the top of the stack into the shoe. Tag pushed all his chips into the box.

“So where you from?” Dane asked, making no move to deal.

“Around.”

“I hear that’s a nice place. I’m from down south.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

Dane shrugged. “I’ve worked hard to get rid of the accent. People hear that drawl and they think you’re stupid. I’m
not
stupid.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

With an especially bright smile, Dane took the first card and set it in front of Tag faceup. It was an ace. With the corner of his mouth quirked, he placed a second card beside it—a ten. “Blackjack! You’re a lucky man, mister.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Dane’s cards were a pair of nines. He looked pleased as punch when he doubled Tag’s stash. “Another hand?”

“Of course.”

“I was a afraid you were one of those quit-while-you’re-ahead guys.”

“I’ve
never
been one of those guys.”

The second hand was a push—they both had eighteen—and on the third hand, Dane got seventeen and Tag busted, losing his entire twenty thousand.

“Wow, tough break, mister.”

“I bet you’re heartbroken over it.”

“There’s a bet you’d win.” Dane leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Nothing I like more than helping a guy get lucky.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

“I want twenty more,” Tag said and handed over more cash.

Dane lifted a well-sculpted eyebrow. “You are a man of surprising depth, my friend.”

“Not really.”

This time, Tag got a seven and an eight. Dane had a five facing up. “Hit me,” Tag said.

Leaning forward and dropping his voice again, Dane said, “Not a bright move, mister.”

“I never said I was bright. You’re the smart one, remember?” Tag tapped the table with his palm. “Hit me.”

“You’re the boss.” He dealt another seven to Tag. “Aw. Busted.” He flipped his other card over, showing a queen. “You’d have won forty grand if you’d stood.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Tag felt cold inside, like his innards had turned to ice. He remembered how when his father sank deep into depression, he never yelled or cried. He drank. Self-medicated. And he would sit in a chair in whatever rathole they were inhabiting and wouldn’t move at all. Some days Tag would find him in the chair in the morning when he woke up, and when he got home from school in the afternoon his dad would still be there, his position completely unchanged. At the time Tag used to imagine his father had turned to stone, but now he knew the truth—his dad was frozen solid. Eventually his dad would thaw for a while. Until Mom died, and then he’d iced up for good.

“You done?” Dane asked.

“No.”

“You want to think about it a while? I could get you something to drink.” He looked around as if searching for a waitress. “I’d say you’ve lost enough for us to at least comp you a shot or two.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“You’re a man with a mission.”

Tag was a man with two things. One he’d always had, yet it did him no good. And the other he’d just recently obtained, but he couldn’t keep.

Simple, really.

Tag pulled all the remaining money from his pocket and gently set it in front of Dane. “Thirty.”

Dane’s eyes didn’t widen. “That’s a good chunk of change, mister. You could buy a nice car for that. Make a down payment on a house. Live pretty comfortably for a bunch of months without having to work. You could fly first class to Europe and really live it up.”

“I want thirty thousand dollars’ worth of chips. Please.”

“Sure.” Dane took the cash and gave back a stack of chips. This time he counted them four times.

Tag put all the chips on the mark. Given the size of the stake, which had to be pretty rare for a place like this, he would have expected someone to notice. Even in the fancier casinos, a crowd would gather to watch a thirty-grand bet. But here, the same half-dozen customers sat at the bar, another dozen or so people played the slots, and a group of four older men played hold ’em two tables away. Nobody took any note of Tag.

“I should do a fresh shuffle,” Dane said.

“Do whatever you want. I can’t count cards, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Counting cards is the only way to win this game, mister. Otherwise, the odds always favor me.”

“I know.”

Dane pulled a card from the shoe and placed it in front of Tag. It was an eight. He placed the second card with a flourish. “Ace. Very nice, mister.”

The dealer’s first card went face down, and the second, faceup, was a ten.

Tag considered for a moment. “I’ll stay.”

“Good choice, my friend,” said Dane as he turned his card over. “Nineteen beats eighteen.”

Sixty grand in chips was a lot. But Tag managed to fit them all on the mark. “Can you take a bet this big?”

Still seemingly unruffled, Dane glanced up at the ceiling. Undoubtedly there was a camera there, and somewhere in a back room, the pit boss or security or someone was watching carefully. It was unclear how they communicated with the dealer, but they must have given an all-clear, because Dane smiled. “For sixty thousand, then. You’ve been very lucky so far.”

“Good luck is useless.”

Dane raised his eyebrows, but the expression was a bit too theatrical. “Really? Most people would love to have good luck.”

“I don’t want it.”

Placing his elbows on the felt and hunching his back, Dane looked Tag straight in the eye. “What do you want, my friend?”

The words came quickly, although Tag didn’t know the answer until he said it.

“I want a happy-ever-after with the man I love. I want to be able to lean on him forever and know he won’t let me fall. I want him to lean on me. I want to lie in bed with him and feel our hearts beat in tandem.”

Gaze still locked with Tag’s, Dane shook his head slightly. “You won’t find those things here.”

“I know. But I won’t find them anywhere else either.”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

“Nothing I
can
do. Just give me my cards.”

But Dane didn’t. He hadn’t budged. “Are you sure you want to wager everything, mister?”

“Everything.”

Dane stood up, palmed a card from the shoe, and dealt it. It was a jack.

Tag’s heart lurched—tha-dub, tha-dub—and he smoothed his thumb across the card’s face. For a brief moment he closed his eyes. He was smiling when he opened them.

His second card was a king.

“That’s a mighty nice hand,” Dane observed as he put his own first card on the table.

“But it’s not blackjack,” replied Tag.

“You regretting your wager?”

“No. It’s not so much a bet as a trade, isn’t it?”

Without replying, Dane dealt himself a second card. An ace. He looked across the table at Tag with those black eyes so deep a man could fall right into them, and without looking down, he flipped the first card over. “Blackjack,” he whispered. And it was, because that card was a jack.

Tag let his breath out in one long whoosh. He watched as Dane scooped all the chips off the mark to his side of the table, and then Tag stood.

“Sorry. I don’t have anything left to tip you with.”

“Where are you staying?”

“North Strip.”

“Then let me give you a tip instead.” Dane produced a pair of twenty-dollar bills and set them in front of Tag. “You need cab fare, right?”

“I don’t think that’s the way it’s supposed to work.”

“Don’t worry about it. You gave up a lot tonight. I like you. I want you to get home safe.”

After a brief hesitation, Tag shoved the bills into his pocket. To the extent he had thought about this beforehand, he sort of assumed he’d end up walking back to the Baja. But now he was tired, and he just wanted Jack. A cab ride would be nice. “Thank you.”

“You’re not going home with a hundred twenty grand tonight, mister. The least I can do is give you a souvenir.” Dane picked up one of Tag’s cards and held it out. It was, Tag noticed for the first time, the jack of hearts.

Tag put the card in his shirt pocket. Then he stood, walked out the door, and went in search of a taxi.

E
VEN
WHEN
Tag reached the brightly lit expanse of the Fremont Street Experience, he couldn’t hail a cab. They were occupied or out of service, or the cabbie didn’t notice him. Tag couldn’t call for a ride either, because he’d left his phone back at the Baja. After nearly twenty minutes of futile arm-waving, he gave up and started to walk. The trek wasn’t especially long—maybe two miles—but the street was dark and sort of sinister. He was relieved when he made it to the motel intact.

Jack popped into view as soon as Tag was in the room. Tag couldn’t help but greet him with a relieved smile and a tight embrace, made more interesting by Jack’s nudity. Tag gave Jack’s ass a grateful squeeze.

“I was worried about you,” said Tag.

“Worried?” Jack looked confused and a little pleased. It occurred to Tag that possibly very few people had troubled themselves over Jack in the past.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here when I got back.”

Jack patted him soothingly. “Tag, when I leave you, it will be because I have to. I don’t want—”

“I know. And Christ, I didn’t even know you last week, but today I can’t imagine going on—I don’t want to go on without you. How corny is that?” He shook his head. “But I’ve done alone before. I’ve done it most of my life. What I’m worried about is what happens to you when you… when you’re not….”

“When my battery’s dead. Yeah. But we can’t do anything about that, so let’s make good with the time we have left, okay?”

“Carpe diem.”

“Huh?”

“Latin. Seize the day.”

Jack smiled. “Get your kicks when you can. That’s how Buddy put
it.”

Tag felt a stupid and irrational stab of jealousy. “You talked to Buddy again?”

“Yes.” Jack gave Tag another squeeze before sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked across the room at Tag. “He knows I’m a ghost.”

Just like that, jealousy was replaced by fear. “Is he going to—”

“He’s fine with it. He’s met a lot of ghosts. He was born with second sight or something. And he told me— Well, that can wait.” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we be carping the diem?”

Tag would have snorted with laughter, but he never got the chance because Jack leaned back on the mattress and started stroking himself. This somehow stole all the oxygen from Tag’s lungs. Jack was gorgeous—far more beautiful than any matinee idol or modern A-lister. And unlike those oversized images on a screen, he looked
real
despite being ephemeral “Hey, Jack?”

Jack paused what he was doing. His cock was already hard, but he was listening.

“I want you to know something,” Tag said. He didn’t want to kill the mood, but he needed to get these words out while he could. “Whatever happens… later… you’ll always be important to me.”
Always be my star
, he would have added if it weren’t ridiculously trite.

Jack’s wide smile didn’t detract one bit from his sexiness. “You won’t forget about me?”