Page 82 of Don't Bet On It
“They’re a thing.”
It was my turn to be dubious. “Why don’t you strike me as the sex swing type?”
“I just told you I would run if I saw one. You might be the sex swing type. It’s possible.”
I thought about it. I had no particular feelings on sex swings either way. “I promise it’s not a sex swing” was all I could come up with.
I ushered her in front of me, hit the light switch on the wall, and then fixed my full attention on her. I already knew what I was showing her. What I wanted to see was her reaction to the space.
“Oh, wow.” Pure reverence replaced the cynical smile I’d grown so fond of. She released my hand, her eyes wide, and shuffled to the center of my studio. “This is… Wow.” She headed straight to my current piece, a watercolor of the Las Vegas skyline. I’d been working on it for weeks—when I wasn’t spending time with her—and I’d just about finished it. “This is amazing.”
Her smile was so big when she turned to face me that I thought I might melt into a puddle of goo right there.
“You like it?” My voice was raspy. I’d never been nervous about showing others my work. Art was the one place I excelled,and doubt wasn’t part of that game. Tallulah was different, however. Not only because she was an artist—she’d shown me a few of her pieces one night when I’d stayed over—but also because I wanted to impress her.
“It’s beautiful.” She didn’t touch the canvas. The paint was dry, but some artists were persnickety about people touching their stuff. Tallulah respected those kinds of boundaries. “This space is amazing.” She moved over to another piece, this one of the Grand Canyon. “Did you do this from memory?” She was awestruck.
“Yeah. I’ve been there enough times that I have a favorite spot.”
“I’ve never even been there. I’ve seen photos, though.” Her sigh was long and drawn out, wistful. “One day, I’ll see it.”
Given Vegas’s proximity to the Grand Canyon, it dumbfounded me that she hadn’t ever been there. Of course, that was my entitlement talking. My parents had the money for the trips. My mother had taken me there more times than I could count when I was a kid.
I doubted Sharon had ever taken Tallulah anywhere that didn’t benefit Sharon. She didn’t seem like the type.
“How long have you had this place?” Tallulah asked. She’d moved on to the sculpture corner and was eyeing my supplies there. I wasn’t surprised. What she didn’t know was that I’d beefed up that section just for her.
“About a year,” I replied. “I had to save up money to secure the space—the rent is surprisingly doable on my salary—but when I went into this, I didn’t have much of a nest egg.”
“How is your nest egg looking now that you’re in the high rollers section?”
“Much better.” I laughed as I thought back to when I’d been informed of the move. “I thought maybe you’d had something to do with that when it happened.”
Confusion knitted her eyebrows. “Me? No offense—I’m glad that you’re over there now—but why would I try to get you transferred? Forget for a moment that I don’t have that power, but at the time, how would that have benefitted me?”
“I thought maybe you’d partnered with Zach and Rex to try to get me booted. If I screw up in the lounge, then it means bad things for the casino.”
She made a face and shook her head. “I would never do that. I don’t believe in messing with people’s money.”
“Which is why you never tried to get Kyla ousted.”
She shrugged. “I understand why Kyla hates me. I waltzed into one of the most lucrative sections of the casino. There’s a waiting list a mile long for my position. She thought she was finally going to get her sister in.”
“That doesn’t give her a pass to treat you like crap.”
“No, but she’s calmed down over the last month. It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine with me. Still, I smiled. “Either way, I don’t think you’re out to get me any longer. I know I was making things up in my head at the time. It just threw me.”
“I could be trying to get you,” she teased. “It could be a long con.”
“Yes, all the sex is definitely teaching me a lesson,” I agreed.
She laughed and then turned back to the sculpture section. “You have a lot of supplies. It looks as if you paint more than you sculpt, though.”
“I like sculpting,” I replied. “I find it restful. I can get lost in the process for hours on end. I don’t think I’m very good at it, though.”
“No, you’re great.” Tallulah focused on one of my abstracts. “You seem to be good at everything you do.”
