Page 41 of Highway To Destiny

I laughed. “We’re bossy with each other.”

When our lunch arrived, the guys regaled me with what they’d been doing all term and about the students they’d been tutoring. My heart soared with Connor’s acceptance of my offer, and I let myself relax and enjoy the meal and the sound of their voices.

Once lunch was over, we strolled down Las Vegas Boulevard to burn off calories until we came to The Cosmopolitan. They wanted to see the Chandelier Bar, and I felt it was time to scratch my gambling itch. My game of chance was craps, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to play in quite some time. I found a table with a twenty-five dollar minimum bet, so I threw five hundred-dollar bills down in exchange for chips.

The table was comfortably full, and no one crowded one another. The guys didn’t know the game, so I gave them a brief overview. They stayed behind me, confused by all the chips on the table, as the action unfolded. I started with a minimum bet on the pass line. The shooter rolled a seven. As the dealer placed a matching twenty-five-dollar chip next to mine, Connor questioned why I got money when the shooter threw a seven. I then had to explain when sevens are both good and bad.

As the game of chance progressed, the guys were enthralled with the swift work of the dealers and chips being thrown down and picked up. The shooter eventually rolled a seven, ending his time with the dice.

When it was my turn to be the shooter, the dealer pushed the five small red cubes my way. I grabbed the nearest two, and he took back the rest. I reached down and placed my bet. I took the two dice and held them against my flat palm, which was raised in front of Connor’s face. “Blow,” I said and gave him a wink. His face took on a faint shade of red. This was going to be fun.

He blew on the dice, and I tossed them across the table. Once the dice landed, they came up as eight, with a five and a three. The other players placed their wagers as we watched.

I took the dice again, then stopped. I studied the table and decided to throw caution to the wind. I picked up four twenty-five-dollar chips and tossed them to the dealer. “One hundred on hard eight!” I knew the guys had no idea what that meant, but Spencer giggled. A couple of other players felt my luck and added their own chips next to mine.

Spencer leaned over and smirked. “He said, hard eight. Kinda like the title of my sex tape.” He seemed proud of himself at his remark. Leave it to our golden retriever to pick up on the sexual innuendos of bet calling. I rolled my eyes.

I picked the dice back up and held them for Connor to blow on again. The table went silent, and everyone’s eyes were on me. I took a deep breath and blew it out as I tossed them to the felt wall at the other end of the table. It was as if everything was in slow motion.

The dice settled and showed double fours. The table erupted in cheers. Both Connor and Spencer pounded on my arm and jumped up and down, with Connor yelling, “Oh my god!” The commotion caught the onlookers’ attention. My heart pounded.Holy shit!

Once the bets were paid and I’d received high fives all around, it finally dawned on me how much I’d won. With the hundred dollars on the hard eight bet, which paid a true bet of ten to one, and with my other bets on the table, I’d cleared over twelve hundred dollars with one throw.

I was passed the dice again and when I threw it, a three and a two showed on the red cubes. I immediately crapped out with a seven on my next toss, which ended my streak. Even with that, the table applauded my efforts. There were a lot of chips paid out with my luck. At that point, I said, “Color in,” and pushed all my chips to the head dealer. I knew my gambling limits and had learned that you walk away with the casino’s money when ahead.

The guys were still in disbelief as they hung on to me. I tossed the dealers two twenty-five-dollar chips as a tip, and we walked away from the table to the cashier’s cage.

Connor and Spencer wanted to try a blackjack table but couldn’t find one with a low minimum bet. Most were set at fifty dollars, and that was too steep for their budgets. Instead, they settled on playing some slots as I watched. My betting was done for the day, and I basked in my victory.

Today felt right with Connor by my side. He was my lucky charm.

28

CONNOR

“How the hell did you even hit that jackpot,” I annoyingly said to Spencer as we sat side by side at a bank of noisy but colorful slot machines. At that same moment, Mason came back from the bar with our drinks since we hadn’t seen a cocktail waitress in a while. He balanced Spencer’s diet soda, my cranberry vodka, and his beer in one hand. He had big hands.

Mason looked at Spencer’s dollar amount on the video screen, and his eyes went wide. “You’re up over two hundred bucks since I walked away?” he asked surprisingly.

Spencer puffed out his chest with pride. “Yup, and on an eighty-cent bet too!”

“If I were you, I’d cash out,” I said in disgust as I looked at the lonely twenty-four cents left in my machine. “Why is it you always beat me at these video things, and we’re not even playingCall of Duty?” I felt dejected with everyone winning but me.

“Not everyone wins, babe,” Mason said. “But your daddy has your dinner covered tonight.”

Spencer snorted, and I turned to look at Mason’s shit-eating grin as he looked down at me. I could tell he was about to laugh, so I just looked away. He bumped my chair with his knee.

“How much did you lose?” Mason smirked.

I retrieved the slot ticket with the meager amount as I got off my chair. “Twenty bucks total. I guess you consider it the cost of entertainment.” Mason nodded in agreement. Spencer saw me stand up and figured we were done, so he took his winning ticket to a dispensing kiosk to get his cash. I handed him mine as well and told him he could keep the change.

After the casino robbed me of my cash alongside two hours of bells, dings, and flashing lights, we headed back to our hotel to relax and freshen up before dinner and the drag show. As we walked back, Mason made reservations at one of his favorite steakhouses for the three of us. He proclaimed it was an old Vegas institution where the Rat Pack used to eat. Spencer and I said, ‘Rats?’ at the same time, and Mason simply hung his head.

We decided we had time for a power nap when we got to the room, so we toed off our shoes and Mason spooned me on top of my queen bed as Spencer sprawled out on his. I made sure Mason kept his hands idle with Spencer in the room. It didn’t stop him from pushing his hard length through our clothing into my ass. I bit into the pad of his hand until he got the message and stopped.

We woke up an hour later, and I changed into a button-down that tapered nicely into the waistband of my jeans. Mason stared as I changed—Spencer was oblivious. Once freshened up, we piled into a rideshare to the restaurant. The place was old school for sure, but the atmosphere was Vegas vintage, and I couldn’t stop taking it all in.

As we ate, I asked Mason how he became so good at reading a craps table. The winnings he raked in impressed me, and I wanted to know his tricks. He wiped his perfect lips with a napkin and smiled at me.

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