After a few moments, he felt better, calm and clear headed. He glanced at Adriana again and painted a fake smile on his face.
She nodded and returned his forced smile.
The stickman passed the dice to a new shooter. Each time Rafael had been offered the dice, he’d refused, preferring to bet on someone else’s luck.
The new shooter—a Dennis Rodman look alike—flashed a gold-toothed grin and flung the dice. They rolled, tumbled, landed. A five and a two.
Seven.
The crowd at the table cheered. Rafael blinked. He’d won! He was on his way again; he could just feel it.
He looked over at leopard skin and saw that his pile of chips had diminished. Not a good sign—time for another strategy. Rafael let his gaze roam the table. Most of the crowd had stayed put, and he had a pretty good idea of who was hot and who was not. With that thought, he devised a new strategy—bet on the shooter. For the few new people, he watched them carefully for a couple of rounds before betting for or against them.
He lost some rolls but won more than he lost. To his relief, his stack of chips started to grow. When he got back to his original bankroll, he was tempted to double his bets. But that was way too scary. He could win twice as fast, but he could also lose twice as fast. Sure and steady, bet on the shooters’ luck—that was the ticket. He’d never concentrated so hard. He didn’t take his eyes from the table, not even to see how Adriana was reacting.
After three straight wins, he mentally counted his chips. He’d doubled his original stake!
He swiped his brow and let out a long steady breath. He’d arrived. This was more than enough to prove he could do it. He didn’t want to be greedy and ruin everything. Now he could look Adriana in the eye with the knowledge that he was a winner.
He grabbed his chips and looked over to where she’d been standing. But she was gone.
Where she’d been was an empty spot. It was past three a.m. and the crowd had been thinning for the past hour. He craned his neck and raised himself on tiptoe, scanning the table. Nothing. She’d left before he’d proved that he could win.
His shoulders slumped. What a letdown.
He hefted the chips in his hand and tossed the boxman and stickman a tip like he’d seen other winners do. Slowly, feeling the exhaustion of the day washing over him, he walked to cashier’s cage and cashed in his chips.
It was over. Time to go to his room and get a couple of hours sleep before his interview.
Tomorrow was going to be a tough day. First, the interview and then he’d have to come clean and end his high-roller masquerade.
He wished tomorrow was already over.
#
Adriana arrived early at work. It had been a late night, but she didn’t feel tired. She felt energized and expectant. Spring break was starting, and she’d finished her thesis ahead of schedule. Now, all she had to do was await revisions from her consulting professor. The break would give her more time for her job.
More time to unmask a fraud.
Grabbing a cup of coffee, she headed straight for her computer, saying a quick hello to her coworkers as she walked by. When she got to her desk, she found a stack of phone messages waiting for her. One was from Mr. Bennett, her manager. He wanted her to come to his office as soon as she arrived. She had a fair idea why he’d called. He would expect her to explain about one very disgruntled whale, named Henderson.
Checking her watch, she decided she was still on her own time. She would call her manager first thing, after she researched Damian Escobedo. Flicking on the computer, she ignored the flashing notifications for waiting emails and went straight to the client files.
Pulling up Escobedo’s file, she skimmed through the likes and dislikes section this time and started with his background. She noted the computer company he worked for and his term of employment. She scrolled through the names of his parents, one older brother, two younger sisters, and another brother named Rafael who just happened to have the exact same birth date.
Jackpot!
Damian Escobedo was a twin. What was the chance that this twin brother, this Rafael, was an identical twin?
Sean, one of her co-workers, stopped at her desk, coffee mug in hand. “Hey, Adriana, good morning.” He leaned over her computer. “Say, what are you doing? Mr. Bennett wants to see you right away. And he was pretty worked up about it. You should probably—”
“Not now, Sean, I’ve still got a few minutes until I’m officially on the clock, and I’ve got a very important loose end to tie up. If the boss asks again, tell him that I’ll be right in to see him. Okay?”
Sean shrugged. “Sure. No problem. He’s in the management meeting right now anyway.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Sean.”
She hit print on her computer and waited until Damian’s background sheet printed out.
She grabbed the sheet and rose from her desk.
“See you in a few, Sean.” She hoped he would get the message and buzz off. And he did.
He turned and walked back to his own desk.
Picking up the hotel landline, she punched in the number of Escobedo’s suite. Hearing the phone ring, she felt no qualms, no uncertainty. A surge of adrenaline hit her, and she was like a predator going in for the kill. How dare Escobedo try to defraud the resort and make a fool of her?
Waiting for the phone to be picked up, she would have bet her last pair of pantyhose that it was
Rafael
Escobedo, not Damian, occupying the suite on the twenty-first floor.
Chapter Four
Rafael threw the last folded shirt into the suitcase and zipped up the garment bag. So far, his luck from last night had been holding. He’d received a phone call at eight this morning from the Dean of Humanities’ administrative assistant telling him that his interview had been postponed because the Dean had been called away on a personal emergency at the last minute.
The Dean’s assistant had offered for him to return home over the weekend, and at the university’s expense, fly him back next week for the interview, which had been postponed until next Tuesday. He declined her offer, telling her that he’d be staying over the weekend and available on Tuesday morning.
Now all he had to do was face the music, end the masquerade, and pay his bill for the suite. But should he go straight to Adriana or deal with the front desk and then tell her? He ran his hand through his hair.
The bank of phones in his suite shrilled. He crossed to the nightstand and picked up the nearest one. “Yes.”
“Ra ... er, Damian, this is Adriana. May I come up?”
“You want to come up?”
He couldn’t believe it—more good fortune. She’d made the choice for him, and somehow, it felt right. He should confess to her first. It was like an answer to a prayer he hadn’t dared to utter.
“Please.” He pushed at his glasses, stopping their slide down his nose. “Be my guest.
Come up.”
The phone clicked off in his ear. That was strange, kind of an abrupt ending. He adjusted his glasses and wondered if he had time to put his contacts in? Probably not. He was still awkward with them, and it took forever to get properly settled in his eyes.
Not that he wanted to continue the charade. This was the perfect opportunity for Adriana to know who he really was. But he knew he looked better with the contacts than with his glasses. He’d never been particularly vain before but for Adriana, he’d move heaven and earth to be attractive.
If only he had a little more time to primp.
#
Adriana raised her hand to knock on the suite door and then lowered it. She pulled out the card key in her pocket. Her emotions were broiling hot, and she’d like nothing better than to storm his room, ignoring his privacy because he was an imposter and staying illegally in the suite.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Call it common decency, courtesy, or even a soft spot she had for Damian-Rafael, she couldn’t do it. Leaving the key in her pocket, she knocked on the door.
The door swung open immediately. Had he been waiting for her?
The imposter stood there, politely holding the door ajar, a silly grin wreathing his features. He was wearing glasses, a rather heavy pair of black Buddy Holly glasses. They did nothing to enhance his appearance. And if they were a sympathy ploy, they hadn’t worked. “Come in, Adriana. Please, have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
Shrugging, he said, “Suit yourself. Would you care for something to drink?”
“From your well-stocked bar, provided by the hotel,” she shot back, reminding him of his smarmy invitation from last night.
He flinched, and his face darkened. Removing the hideous glasses, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and busied himself with polishing the lenses.
Before she could speak again, he said, “I was going to call you.” Replacing the glasses, he pocketed the handkerchief. “But I thought it was too early. Doesn’t your shift start at one?”
“Yes, but I had something I wanted to take care of, so I came in early.”
She took a deep gulp of air. This was it. No more small talk, no more beating about the bush. Confront him with his fraud and get it over with.
Ask for an ID, for several ID’s.
They spoke at the same time, their voices clashing, drowning out their respective words.
He paused, and she stopped. They gazed at each other.
“You were saying something about an ID, I think.” He stuck his hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped the leather wallet open and handed it to her with his Texas driver’s license on top. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. Why I was going to call you. Here, take it.”
She accepted the wallet and peered at the ID.
“I’m not Damian Escobedo. I’m Rafael, his twin brother.”
Hearing his words and seeing the ID, she thought she’d feel triumphant, gratified to have unmasked an imposter. But that wasn’t how she felt. Her shoulders slumped, and she frowned. And she felt oddly disappointed. What was wrong with her?
He was a fraud, guilty by his own admission.
But she’d liked him, really liked him. From the first, she’d been drawn to him and thought he was attractive, despite his ineptitude and blundering, or maybe because of it. She didn’t know. She was so confused. But one thing was certain she’d never met anyone like Rafael Escobedo.
“So you admit it.” She sounded disappointed, even to her own ears. “That’s why I came up, to confront you.”
Enough of this silliness; he was still a fraud. She squared her shoulders and shot him a scathing look. She hadn’t expected him to confess. And his honesty had stolen her thunder,
but it didn’t change the circumstances.
“Do you understand what you’ve done? You’ve perpetrated a fraud against this establishment. My management could prosecute.”
“Yes, I know what I’ve done.” He pulled his hand through his hair.
Good, at least he’s nervous, as he should be.
“My brother and I didn’t think—”
“Didn’t think, didn’t think.” She shook her head. “Your brother is a salesman, obviously a highly successful one to have comped trips. Am I right?”
He nodded, his eyes down and his mouth tight-lipped.
“And what do you do for a living, Mr. Escobedo?”
“I’m a college professor.”
She gasped. “A college professor. That’s even worse.”
“Why? Why is that worse?”
“Because ... because,” she stammered, amazed and appalled at his indifference to the moral issue, not counting the legal one. “Because college professors are supposed to set an example for youth. People in your position shouldn’t go around flouting the laws and—.”
“Now wait a minute. None of my students are here. None of them are going to know that I— “
“So as long as it’s a dirty little secret, it didn’t happen. Wonderful philosophy, Mr. Escobedo. If you feel that way, your lack of moral fiber will transmit itself to your students, won’t it?”
“Let’s leave my moral fiber out of this, shall we? It was merely an error in judgment. And I freely admit I made a mistake. But it hardly means I want to undermine the country’s youth and their morals. Aren’t you a little over the top with that?”
“I don’t think so. I think I’ve pinpointed the issue accurately.” She thrust his wallet at him and folded her arms across her chest.
He ran his hand through his hair again. “Come with me, Adriana. I want to show you something.”
Reluctantly, she willed her legs to move, to follow him. She really didn’t want to; he’d already offended her, both legally and morally. Did he have any idea of what he’d done? And even though he was a confessed fraud, he was blithely leading her to one of the bedrooms. Was she crazy? He could be an axe murderer for all she knew. Why was she following him like an orphaned puppy?
“Look here.” He lifted his arm, indicating his packed bags on the bed. “I was ready to confess my identity and vacate the suite. Contrary to what you may believe, I do possess a conscience. And it bothered me to be here under false pretenses.” Turning his gaze on her, the look in his eyes pled for understanding. “And I’m prepared to make restitution, too. I’ll pay for the suite and the chauffeur, and anything else I’ve cost the Xanadu.”
“
¡Perdition
! I’ll even pay for your time, Adriana.”
“I hardly think that’s necessary. The part about my time, that is. It makes me sound like
I’m … Like what you thought last night.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Maybe you should reconsider your job description.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. Especially since you’re so intent upon appearances and the moral fiber of youth.”
“Oooh, that’s not fair. That’s a low blow.” Tapping her foot, she uncrossed her arms and then crossed them again. Self-righteous anger filled her, and she felt the tips of her ears growing hot. Her hands twitched; she would like nothing better than to slap his silly face and knock those awful Buddy Holly glasses off. But she controlled the urge, keeping her hands tightly tucked against her chest.
“What’s that saying about living in a glass house and not throwing stones?” he asked.