Fool Me Once: A Bad Girl Romance Page 3

  "Eight," I agreed. "I'll see you there."

  Marcus grinned, slapped the wall of my cubicle one last time, and headed off. I sighed, watched him go, and then picked up the deck of cards again.

  Faro shuffles, transitioning into a Zarrow false shuffle. Hopefully, I wouldn't need to pull out any card tricks at the club tonight – but with a poker game, especially a back room one, anything was possible.

  So much for meeting girls and relaxing, having fun. I turned back to my spreadsheet program and tried to focus for the last hour or so of my work week.

  Chapter Four

  RUBY

  *

  By the time that I spotted Kelsey walking down the sidewalk towards her apartment, I'd long since polished off the sandwich, the coffee, and two delicious croissants that the little café baked freshly each morning. They were delicious and flaky, but I could feel them settling down in my stomach, soaking up all the liquid as they slowly broke apart.

  "Kelsey!" I shouted out, jumping up to my feet and waving my hands wildly at her, as if she'd somehow miss me.

  She looked up, her face brightening when she spotted me. "Ruby!" she cried back, dashing forward to hug me. I squeezed her happily back, even though she stood a good three or four inches taller than me. Her face pressed against my forehead, and my own face landed against her soft chest.

  "Why, Kelsey, are you wearing a padded bra?" I exclaimed, as I let go of her. "Your tits feel so soft!"

  "Ah, just the thing that I wanted to hear first from my friend's lips!" Kelsey laughed, grinning back at me. "And no, it's just a thick sweater. Plus, there's this creepy guy at my work that stares at me whenever I wear a low-cut shirt, so sweaters have kind of become my go-to outfit."

  "Shame. You should point me at this guy, and I'll sort him out." I mimed smacking my fist into my other palm, and Kelsey just shook her head. She looked past me at the remains of my food, scattered across the little outdoor table of the café. I'd been picking apart the last bits of the croissant, throwing the crumbs to the pigeons that scattered around and pecked them up eagerly. "You been here long?"

  "Just enjoying being free, outdoors, and with plenty of money in my pocket," I replied. "But now that you mention it, I could kind of use a bathroom. Wanna let me up into your apartment?"

  Kelsey shook her head, but let me into her building. We climbed the stairs up to her third-floor walk-up, and I darted to the restroom as soon as she unlocked her front door.

  "So," her voice drifted in through the thin bathroom door. "What's the deal with this place you want to go out to tonight?"

  "DeMarco's!" I shouted back through the closed door. "It's a brand new place, just opening. Supposed to be sort of like a speakeasy place, very Prohibition themed."

  "Doesn't that mean that they wouldn't be serving alcohol?"

  "Nah, it's the place that the cops don't find, where they do serve it, so everyone who's desperate for a drink can get one," I answered. "Hey, should I just open the door so we don't need to shout?"

  "Definitely not. You're, like, my best friend, Ruby, but that doesn't mean that I want to see you straining and making faces on a toilet."

  "Too bad! You're missing out on some good ones!" I shouted back, and made a few weird faces at the door, just in case she decided to open it and take a look for herself.

  Kelsey didn't open the door, but I did hear her sigh. "You're making faces right now, aren't you?"

  "Maybe." I stood up, flushed, headed out of the bathroom. I found Kelsey standing on the other side, frowning at me. "What?"

  "Get back in there and wash your hands," she demanded, pushing me back into the bathroom.

  "But it makes me more resistant to germs if I can get more exposure!" I protested, even as I washed my hands. "Don't you read the most recent journal of medicine papers?"

  "No, and neither do you." I emerged out, wringing the last drops of water off of my fingers, and found Kelsey in the kitchen, pulling apart a Tupperware container that had apparently held her lunch. "So how long are you here for? In town?"

  I shrugged. "Haven't decided yet. Depends on if I find something that's interesting to keep me here."

  With a sigh, Kelsey turned to the cupboards, pulled out a package of crackers. I helped myself to a few of them. "Ruby, how long are you going to keep doing this for?" she asked, looking at me.

  "Keep doing what?"

  She gestured with a cracker. "You know. Running around, being young and irresponsible. How old are you now? Twenty-six?"

  "Twenty-five," I corrected. "Barely. And what's wrong with getting out and actually experiencing everything that life has to offer, instead of trapping myself in some dead end desk job?"

  "Because it's not trapping yourself – it's working towards a real future!" Kelsey fired back. A couple crumbs leapt off of her lip, landing on the counter between us. "Look, I get that it's not as fun to work a steady job as it is to go gallivanting around the country-"

  "Gallivanting, good word," I interjected, but she kept going.

  "-gallivanting around the country and pulling these scams on people when you need money? Either one of two things are going to happen." She held up fingers as she ticked off these two possibilities. "You'll either get caught, and end up in prison somewhere, or else you'll end up getting hurt or too old and you'll find yourself without any sort of safety net."

  I sighed. "Kelsey, I only just got here. I really don't want to have this discussion now. Can we put it on the back burner, at least for tonight?"

  "Sure – but don't think that I'm going to forget about it," she said. She took one last cracker, then put the box away. "I need to stop eating. I'm going to get so fat."

  I looked at her, raising my eyebrows. For as long as I could remember, I'd been a little envious of Kelsey's looks. Roughly ten inches taller than my own barely-five-feet of height, her body was long and limber, with slender limbs and a modest butt and bust. She had olive skin, flowing brown hair that seemed to contain a dozen different shades, slightly slanted eyes, and she moved with a model's grace. "If you're fishing for compliments," I said, "I'm not giving you any. You do look a bit chubby."

  Kelsey stuck her tongue out at me. "Whatever. Are those crow's feet developing around your eyes?"

  I threw my last cracker at her, and then turned to her bedroom. "Here, eat up. Now, what sort of clothes are you going to wear to this?"

  She sighed as she followed after me. "You're going to insist on putting me in something super slutty, aren't you? I can just see it happening."

  "Good, then we're on the same page." I pulled open her closet doors, began digging through the clothes hanging inside. "Wow, some of these are awful. What are you, a nun? A matron?"

  "Looking respectable doesn't make me a matron," she protested.

  I just huffed at her, then drew out a few outfits. "Okay, you try this one, and I'm going to see if I can squeeze my fat butt into this other one. It would look cute on me."

  Thankfully, Kelsey didn't say anything in response, although I bet her eyebrows went up as soon as I turned my back. Still, after wiggling myself into the dress, I looked at the image in her mirror approvingly. "Not bad."

  "Really?" she asked. "Ruby, your boobs are, like, half out of that top! You're going to have every guy in the place staring at you!"

  "Fine with me!" I shot back. "That just means that they won't be looking at their wallets!"

  She sighed, shaking her head. "Come on, Ruby. Don't get us thrown out of another place."

  "Okay. I'll try to control myself." I looked at Kelsey's outfit approvingly. "Hey, that's not bad! Just lose the sweater, and you'll look great."

  "But what if it gets cold?"

  I sighed as loudly as I could manage.

  Eventually, I managed to get Kelsey looking good enough to go out, and we caught a cab to DeMarco's. As the cab dropped us off, however, I saw that the line of people waiting to get in stretched not just out the door, but down around the block as well!

  "Great
. We're never going to get in," Kelsey sighed to me.

  I, however, had another idea. "Here, follow me," I told her, and headed off confidently – not towards the front door, but down a side alley! Kelsey's eyes widened and she let out a little gasp behind me, but she followed.

  It took a couple minutes, but I located the back door of the club – and just as I'd hoped, it was propped ajar, likely so that some of the bartenders and other staff could duck outside and grab a quick smoke. I headed right up, pulling it open, even as Kelsey let out another little sound of surprise and dismay behind me.

  "Hey!" Just inside the back door, a bartender turned and frowned at us. "What are you two-"

  "Oh my god, I'm so sorry – we got lost and forgot that the entrance was over here!" I cut in before he could finish yelling at us, putting on my most apologetic look (and also leaning forward, to give him a flash of the girls). "I know that we're late, but we're here. Please don't tell Jacob about this, okay?"

  The bartender's expression had shifted to one of confusion. "Wait, what? Jacob? Who are you?"

  I let the faintest little bit of a smile creep through the worry on my face. "I'm Ruby, and this is Kelsey. We're the drink promoters for tonight."

  The guy just looked even more confused, and I didn't blame him. "Drink promoters?"

  "Yeah, didn't Jacob talk to you? Who's your boss?"

  "Wait a minute. Who's Jacob? What are you talking about?" He took a step forward, his frown deepening, but I moved forward and put my hand on his chest. I drew in a deep breath, and noted his eyes dipping down to my chest with satisfaction.

  "Jacob's the social media promoter," I explained. "He's the one who does all that stuff, you know, tells people about deals and such." I waved my hand vaguely in the air. "But he has us working to help push drinks so you guys, the bartenders, can make more off of the high profit stuff." I dialed up the wattage of my smile. "So look, just don't say anything about how we were a little late, and we'll make sure that we send the big spending frat guys in your direction, okay?"

  Either the bartender figured that it was above his pay grade to keep questioning us, or he liked the sound of money. Whatever the reason, he gave up on the questions, nodding. "Yeah, fine. Get out there, then."

  "Thanks," I said, but hesitated. "And your name, by the way?"

  "Danny." He didn't hold out a hand, but I still gave him a big, warm smile and another flash of cleavage.

  "Thanks, Danny! We'll point the big tippers your way." And then, before he could ask any more questions, I seized Kelsey's wrist and tugged her past the bartender and out into the dance area.

  Once out among the other partiers, Kelsey looked at me with wide eyes. "You totally just bluffed him, didn't you?" she exclaimed.

  "Oh yeah. I don't even know if drink promoters are a real thing." I beamed back at her. "But it worked, didn't it?"

  She just shook her head in amazement. "I don't know how you do it. Really, I don't."

  "The point is that I do it, and you get to reap the benefits along with me." I reached into my bra and tugged out one of the hundreds that I'd taken off of Austin Blair the Advertising Asshole earlier. "Now, should we get some drinks?"

  Kelsey just nodded, letting me sweep her along. But on my way to the bar to try and catch the attention of one of the bartenders, I saw a side room off to one side. Immediately, I felt my curiosity stirring.

  "Let's go look over there!" I exclaimed, pulling Kelsey in that direction.

  "But there's a bouncer-" she started to protest, but I waved this off.

  "And you think I can't get past this one, too? Come on, it will be easy. Let's go have some fun!"

  I heard her protesting still behind me, but ignored it. From the other side of the doorway, I heard cards, the clinking of chips, and immediately sensed the chance for me to make even more money! Perfect!

  Chapter Five

  DANE

  *

  My worst suspicions were true. This poker game was a scam, and Marcus was getting rolled.

  From the moment that we walked into the club, Marcus breezing past a huge, hulking bouncer who looked like he popped steroids like Skittles, I heard that damn alarm inside my head going off. Sure, there were some cute girls around, but it was hard to focus on anything about them when my brain kept on interrupting to grab my shoulders, shake me, and shout at me, "Get out, you idiot, you're about to get fleeced!".

  Still, I couldn't leave Marcus here alone. Whatever happened, I knew that he'd be even worse off without me looking out for him. So, my frown pretty much permanently in place, I followed after Marcus into the booming, deafening sound of the club.

  "See? Isn't this great?" Marcus shouted at me, as he passed me a fifteen dollar drink that he finally succeeded in ordering from the bartender after five minutes of waving a dollar bill around.

  "Uh huh. Great." Fortunately, the thumping bass of the club was too loud for Marcus to hear my sarcasm. But maybe he'd forgotten about-

  "Now, how about we go find that poker game," he shouted, crushing my meager hope. He turned and headed off into the crowd again, leaving me with no choice but to grab my drink and follow after him, trying desperately not to spill on anyone.

  After maneuvering past another hulking bouncer, we found the poker game. About the only good things that I could say about the back room were that it was a bit quieter, the walls muffling some of the heavy bass beat music from the club's main area, and that there was a waitress just fetching drinks for the players and watchers. Everything else, however, screamed at me to be cautious. The cheap pictures on the walls, the heavy table that, although appearing practically brand new, already bore marks from clumsy idiots scratching the felt, and the dim overhead lighting (all the better for you to misread your cards with, my dear). This was bad news.

  My eyes fell on the dealer as Marcus hurried up to grab one of the seats. He was a skinny little fellow, scrawny, with close-set eyes and a permanent twist to his mouth, as if he'd just swallowed a big mouthful of sour candy. I watched those eyes flick around the room, never resting on any one place or person for long – but even as his eyes darted and twitched, his fingers nimbly shuffled the deck of cards in his hands. My senses, already wired on high alert, started vibrating in overdrive.

  One glance at Marcus, however, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to pull him away. With a grin that nearly split his face in half, he pulled out a surprisingly big stack of cash, dropped it in front of him on the table, and grinned at the others. "Ready to play, boys?" he called out.

  Standing behind him, I buried my face in my palm. I tried to guess whether he'd manage to last fifteen minutes at this table.

  Marcus managed to survive to the thirty-minute mark, but he was in bad trouble, almost from the very start. I watched from behind his shoulder as he folded hand after hand, as he fell to bluffs, slipped into traps, and made just about every amateurish mistake in the book. I still wasn't completely sure how the game was rigged – whether the dealer had marked cards, was playing games with his shuffles, or if he just had a couple players colluding to drive up the pots for others – but Marcus could have been losing money even at the most honest table in an Atlantic City casino.

  "What do I do, man?" he asked me, still staring down at the table and his tiny little pile of remaining chips. The dealer had called a break in the game, giving the others time to get up, stretch their legs, fetch fresh drinks, and hit on the haggard looking waitress. Marcus, however, just sat at the table and looked down at where his money had once lain.

  "I think it might be time to walk away," I said, trying to be delicate. "This is why you don't go out and play at back room poker games, man. You get hustled."

  "That was my rent money," Marcus said, still looking forward at the table. "Shit, man, I'm going to need to get a loan or something."

  Deep down inside my chest, I felt guilt stirring up, rising into my brain like a spreading fart. I really didn't want to play a hero here. Heroes had the unfortunate tendency to
get in trouble for their actions, instead of being permitted to keep hiding quietly in the background and not causing any trouble.

  But I knew that, if I didn't do anything, I'd be kicking myself for more than just tonight. Neither decision would make me happy, but at least I might not hate myself quite so much if I didn't just stand idly by.

  "Okay, fine," I groaned. "Get up. Move."

  Marcus blinked up at me, still looking blankly confused. "What?"

  "I'm taking over for you. Now, you've got a new job. Stand behind me, make sure no one's sneaking looks at my cards, and don't drink anything else except water. I don't want to deal with hauling your drunk ass out of here when things go south." He started to say something, but I stabbed a finger into his face, waving it slightly like the muzzle of a gun. "Got it?"

  "Got it, Dane," he swallowed, still unsure but lacking the energy to stop me.

  I slid into the spot that he vacated, running my fingers surreptitiously along the inside lip of the table. All smooth wood. My fingers scratched it slightly as I pressed in with a nail. Okay, so no hidden pocket cameras in there. I figured that would be too high-tech of a setup, but still good to check.

  Picking up a couple of Marcus's remaining chips and flipping them idly in my fingers, I looked around at the other players. My competition, now. I'd been sizing them up as I watched Marcus play, but now I'd be facing off directly against them. I needed to identify any of them that were in on the hustle.

  Actually, it wasn't that hard to spot. Several other players had little, pitiful piles of chips remaining, much like Marcus. Two men, however, had much larger piles, overflowing towers of chips in front of them. Those were the guys with the money, which likely meant that they were the guys in on the scam.

  Gameplay resumed, and I watched the dealer's hands carefully. I pretended to fumble picking up one of my cards, giving me the opportunity to run my fingers around the edge. No marks. And nobody was wearing glasses, which meant that the cards probably weren't marked with some sort of invisible ink. This had to be a sleight-of-hand trick.