Page 44 of Hidden Desires
“There! Found it,” Blade announced, pointing at a table three rows down with a chatty redhead and a dealer who looked like she would rather be eating her own hair.
Plopping his ass down onto the chair, he pulled out a stack of fifties and laid them out on the table.
The woman barely looked at him. She swept up his cash and handed him some chips.
Ace stood behind him, like a judgmental guardian angel sent to watch him and help him carry away his millions.
“Want anything to drink?” a cute little waitress, wearing a tight red shirt and extra-small booty shorts, asked.
“Yeah, I’ll have a whiskey, and he’ll have a watermelon martini.” Blade glanced up at Ace. “Or do you want something else?”
Something similar to shock sat on Ace’s face. “Actually, yeah. How did you know my drink order?”
Blade snorted, then turned back to face the table. “Please, you’ve been drinking those fruity posh drinks since you were seventeen—or twenty-one, if the cops are listening.”
Ace looked surprised. Blade didn’t understand why, considering he’d been chilling with Marcus and the guys ever since he moved to New Mexico.
Was he really that surprised that he knew the dude’s order? He knew all of his friends’ orders. For instance, Caden liked… hmm, he actually wasn’t sure what the dude liked to drink. Probably a beer of some kind.
Okay, back to cards.
The dealer handed out the cards, then proceeded to make her way around the table.
Blade spent the next two hours wiping the table with his god damn skills. It was only after he was up fifteen grand that Ace tapped him on the shoulder to let him know that they should probably leave.
Judging by the way security and the other pit bosses were staring at him, he thought that perhaps Ace was right.
“Now that’s how it’s done!” Blade cheered, shoving the money transfer receipt into his back pocket and holding the door open as they left.
“I had no idea you were such a shark when it came to poker.”
“It was something that I picked up over the years,” Blade said, shrugging his shoulders as he led them both across the street.
The sound of old western music caught Blade’s attention.
“No way!” Blade shouted, stopping dead in his tracks. “I’ve always wanted to do one of these!”
Ace looked up at the fancy writing on the sign taped to the window: Old Tyme Snaps.
“What?” Ace questioned in disbelief. “I never would have imagined that you would be interested in taking one of those old-time photos.”
Blade pumped his eyebrows with excitement. “Come on. It’ll be fun!”
He grabbed Ace by the hand and pulled him into the colorful shop.
Inside, the walls were covered with black-and-white photos. They had everything: Western scenes, Victorian scenes, even the roaring twenties—complete with flapper dresses and gangster suits.
All the photos looked distressed and aged, giving them an authentic look and feel.
“So? What are you thinking? Gun-toting outlaws? Or wealthy gentlemen from the South?”
Ace walked past all the photos on the wall until he came to one where two outlaws were chilling in a saloon, playing with their guns.
“This one. It’s perfect.”
Smiling, Blade wrapped his arm around Ace’s shoulder, then led him to the back of the shop, where an older gentleman was busy replacing some film.
“Have you boys found what you are looking for?” the man asked, straightening up and walking toward them.
