Card Sharks (25 page)

“Of course I mean it. You act like I'm the only one who ever said we should be apart.”

“You were the only one who ever really believed it. I know I never said . . . what I should have said. That's my fault. But . . .” He clutched his chest, grabbing onto his leather jacket with dramatic flair, the same old Donny, all grown-up. “I love you, Marianne. You're one crazy girl. But you've always been the one for me. I swear I'd ask you to marry me if you weren't already married,” he said as he stuck his arm around her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “You gotta do something about that. I don't sleep with other men's wives.”

She laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “I'll get on that.”

He looked at her, revealing a tenderness in his eyes Marianne couldn't remember seeing—or noticing—before; then he brushed her hair away from her shoulder. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered sweetly, “Hey, Marianne, it's Donny. Wanna—”

“Yeah.”

T
he sky hung like a pitch-black canvas, streaked and dotted with Strip neon as if it were one of those velvet Elvis paintings you could pick up in Tijuana. The sidewalk outside had picked up steam again at this late hour, now that dinner was over and the flip side of twenty-four/seven was about to begin. Marianne might have been drunk the last time she'd made it out of the casino, but she remembered what this looked like.

“Where are we going?” Bijoux cried out as Marianne practically dragged her behind her.

“Come on!”

“Marianne, seriously. You're supposed to be the responsible one. We're going to miss our flight.”

“You have to see it. It's magic. I swear, I think it's really magic.”

“I didn't bring a sweater,” Bijoux said plaintively from behind her.

“Here.” Marianne pulled her friend up to the stone wall overlooking the lake where the Bellagio fountains waited.

“I'm serious. We have to go. The guys already called a cab.”

“Give it five minutes. We'll be out of here in five minutes.”
Marianne glanced at her watch and then leaned on the wall, staring over the side into the lights of Las Vegas reflecting off the water.

Bijoux had quieted now, huddling close to Marianne for warmth, and likewise transfixed by the reflection. “Almost,” Marianne whispered.

And then, like a blast from a cannon, the fountains shot up out of the water, the display lights switched on, and the music kicked in.

Con te partirò. Paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te, adesso si li vivrò . . .

Bijoux was transfixed. “Oh, Marianne! It's fabulous.” One hand grabbed onto Marianne's arm; the other went to her heart. “It
is
magic.”

The strains of Italian opera soared higher as Bijoux suddenly opened her purse and rummaged around. She pulled out a small cosmetics bag, found her pot of eye glitter, and unscrewed the lid.

“What are you doing?” Marianne asked.

“Hold out your hand.”

She did, and Bijoux dumped half the pot in her palm and the other half in her own, and Marianne saw what she was about.

The fountains danced to the music in a pool of light. Bijoux and Marianne looked at each other, then turned to the spectacle and blew as hard as they could, as if making a wish.

Silver glitter twinkled in the air, catching the light from all sides as the sparkles rained down over the railing into the water. Bijoux slung her arm around Marianne's neck and, laughing together, they turned away and headed for home.