Page 57 of Don't Bet On It
Tallulah seemed to recognize my distress because she glanced between me and my father—recognition sparking in her eyes—and then she crossed to Candy without any further prodding. They bent their heads together, Candy’s eyes widened, and then the therapist’s head bobbed once then twice. Candy crossed the room without hesitation and sidled up to Opal, her voice low as she relayed the problem.
Opal listened, then glanced at my father and me. She smiled, but I could tell she was thrown. I couldn’t worry about Opal’s reaction because my father had finally caught sight of me.
I exhaled heavily but met his gaze. The one thing I didn’t want to deal with was out of my hands. There was no getting out of this.
He took one step toward me but was intercepted by a smiling Tallulah.
“Mr. Hawthorne.” Her smile was as bright as the sun. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Dad looked surprised to be addressed by the staff. “Um, you too.”
Tallulah didn’t let his obvious discomfort get to her. “You probably don’t remember me. I went to high school with Ronan.”
“Oh.” Dad nodded, seemingly relieved to be able to place her. “Of course.” He was obviously searching for a name to go with her face, which was funny because if he’d ever met Tallulah, it had been brief and in passing.
“Tallulah Hayes,” she volunteered, her smile never wavering. “We only met at a few school functions.”
“Right. Your parents are?”
Tallulah swallowed hard, and my heart immediately went out to her. “Sharon Jackson.”
“Oh, right.” My father’s smile dimmed. “Of course.”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I didn’t, though. I wouldn’t let him dismiss Tallulah as if she wasn’t an actual person. “She’s best friends with Olivia Stone,” I volunteered. “You know, Zach Stone’s wife.”
“Of course.” Dad’s smile turned placating. “How could I forget? Your mother was utterly unforgettable.”
That was an insult. Sharon Jackson had been the talk of the PTA for years because she was so … bohemian.
Tallulah continued to smile, but her eyes clouded. “Yes, well, it’s good to see you again. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Maker’s Mark on the rocks,” he replied. When he turned away from her, it was with dismissiveness. “Ronan,” he said, and I braced myself for the deluge. “This is a surprise.”
Opal appeared to be panicking because she hurried over to my father. “You didn’t know he was working here?” Her voice was chipper, but it was impossible to miss the furtive look she shot me. “He’s one of our best dealers.”
“Yes, of course,” Dad drawled. “That’s why he’s in the lounge.”
“I didn’t realize he was on the schedule today,” Opal explained. “I can get another dealer here in five minutes if you want to gamble.”
Dad’s face broke into a wide smile, and I knew he was preparing to play a game. “I think that sounds grand. It will give me a chance to catch up with my son.”
“Of course.” Opal was unflappable. “I’ll get right on it.” She cast me one more look, clearly questioning my presence, and then went to the corner to make a call. She was obviously going to get another dealer. My guess was she was also placing a call to her brother.
Ah, well, I silently lamented. The best-laid plans.
My father wore a “let the games begin” grin when his gaze landed on me. “I think it’s going to be a fabulous afternoon.”
SITTING IN THE CORNER WITH MY FATHERwhen some of the richest men in Vegas were playing blackjack only a few feet away was strange. I was in my dealer uniform, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. Despite that, I sat up straight—Norbert Hawthorne’s son didn’t slouch—and rested my hands on my knees.
“What are you doing here?” Dad asked in a low voice. He’d made a big show of being amused by the development in front ofthe other casino owners. His agitation was palpable now that it was just the two of us, however.
“I work here,” I replied calmly.
“Yes, I figured that out.” Dad gave me a testy look. Now that we were alone, he had zero intention of playing nice. “I want to know why you work here.”
I’d always been uncomfortable around my father. Even when I was small, I couldn’t remember any warm moments between us. He never took me on his lap and read me a book. He never played baseball with me in the yard. Our relationship was made up of “yes, sir” and “of course, sir.” That had been it.
That didn’t make for a warm moment now.
