Double Blind (32 page)

“That’s because Billy is cheap,” Randy said. “He doesn’t use professional weight. Drives Crabtree crazy, and I have to say, I’m not fond of it much myself. The logo is stupid too.”

Ethan nodded, studying them. “It’s the exclamation point that puts it over the top. ‘Herod’s’ would be better.”

Randy threaded their hands together over the chips. “Come on. Let’s go find Sam and Mitch.”

As soon as they got to the bar, Sam jumped them and declared they were going straight to Madame Tussauds.

“
Oh my God
, Randy!” He put his hands on Randy’s shoulders and bounced up and down several times. “
They have Kylie!
And Lady Gaga! But—
Kylie!
”

“Well, we have to go then,” Randy said, and he laughed as Sam squealed and pelted his forehead and cheeks with kisses. He glanced at Ethan. “Unless we have other plans?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Ethan said, but Randy noticed his eyes were taking in Sam’s hands on Randy’s shoulders, and Randy suspected he was flashing back to the scene in the limo.

And then, of course, Randy was too.

The ride to the wax museum was G-rated, and Randy spent most of it watching Sam melt down, effusing and shaking as if he were about to meet the
real
Kylie. Once at the museum, they spent several minutes trying to figure out where the hell she was, and then, suddenly they rounded the corner and there she was, petite and blond and swathed in white fabric and silver glitter, her left hand reaching for the stars as her right hand drew the microphone closer to her mouth. Sam made incoherent sounds for several minutes, and then Mitch nudged him up beside the statue, and they took several photos with his iPhone of him standing beside her, hugging and kissing Ms. Minogue. The same treatment was done to Lady Gaga and Madonna, and then they simply wandered around, taking it all in.

Ethan surprised Randy by having Sam take a photo of himself next to Lady Diana and then Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow.

“Have a thing for princesses and pirates?” Randy teased him as they finally left the museum.

“I’m developing a taste for them, yes.” Ethan put his arm around Sam.

“Where to now?” Mitch asked, falling in beside Randy as they walked back toward the car and admired the fine set of backsides ahead of them.

“Stratosphere?” Randy suggested, because he always liked going up to the observation deck, and he hadn’t taken Slick on the rides the last time. Their clubs were okay too.

“No!” Sam said, and looked over Ethan’s shoulder to give Randy a glare.

Randy sighed. “Sam, you don’t have to go out in the open-air observation. You can stay in the interior room,” he said, but Sam shook his head.

“No. It shakes. I don’t want to ever go up there again.”

“Krave?” Randy suggested instead. “Or we could shoot pool or scare up trouble at the Watering Hole.”

“We’re going to Herod’s,” Ethan said, and he slid his hand down Sam’s back before letting it rest on his hip.

Randy raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, just glanced at Mitch, who showed no real reaction outside of enjoying the way Ethan’s thumb kept sliding down beneath the waistband of Sam’s jeans.

When Randy asked Ethan what this was about as they climbed into the limo, Ethan just smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“Have a drink, if you like,” he suggested. “I’d hate for you to sober up.”

“You look like you’ve about made all your layovers to sober-land,” Randy observed, but he reached for the whiskey all the same.

“I have a bit of a headache,” Ethan acknowledged. “So, I think so.”

Randy handed him another bottle of water. Ethan smiled and accepted it, sipping it as they rode to Herod’s. Ethan led them in, straight through the front doors, nodding at the floor manager who smiled at him warmly. He nodded again at the attendant who came over with, of all things, a tray of chips. A fucking big tray of chips. And wasn’t it slick how Slick pulled out a hundred dollar chip and passed it back to the attendant?

“Come on,” Ethan said, motioning to them as he went down the Grand Path toward the table games. “I want to play.”

“Poker?” Randy asked, totally on board with this.

“Craps,” Ethan said.

“Craps!” Randy echoed, disgusted. “You can’t be serious!”

But Ethan was serious, and he couldn’t be dissuaded, either. He handed chips to everyone, tucking Randy’s into his pocket when he wouldn’t take them, and surveyed the table as Mitch tried to explain to Sam how to play.

“But I don’t like gambling,” Sam protested. “It makes me feel bad when I lose.”

“The chips were free,” Ethan said, smiling as he passed a toke to the dealer before he placed fifty dollars on the Pass Line and twenty-five on the Field. “Think of it as playing a board game.”

Randy glared at Ethan. “What the hell is this? The roulette wheel speech applies to craps, you know. Exchange the wheel for dice, and it’s the same damn thing.”

“Better odds in craps,” Ethan said. He clapped and cheered as the roller reared back to throw.

“Still a house advantage,” Randy grumbled, scowling all the more when the roller hit a nine and everyone cheered again, especially those who had played the Field.

“It’s fun,” Ethan replied. He collected his winnings and placed another bet.

Sam and Mitch, the traitors, played too, and soon everyone but Randy was having a great time. He was merciless when, five rolls later, the roller sevened-out.

“Yes, but we’re up fifty overall,” Ethan pointed out.

“You know this damn table here, Billy’s table, used to be a beautiful fountain? Had a statue of a horned demon in it, made of marble. Or something. The water came out of his nostrils.” Randy crossed his arms over his chest. “They tore it down so they could get more goddamned slots and craps tables in.”

But Ethan looked intrigued, not chastised. “Do they still have the fountain somewhere?”

Randy shook his head. “Just the demon statue, I think, and maybe not even that. The demon wasn’t wearing pants, either, just so you know. They gave him a fig leaf, but if you stood to the side, you got quite a view.
From the back, you got a very fine full monty. And it’s gone, all for craps.
”

Ethan smiled. “Excellent. I’ll get Billy to put it back.”

Randy snorted. “You won’t get Billy to put it back.”

Ethan’s smile turned wicked. “You want to make a bet on that, Ace?”

Okay, the nickname was still catching him unawares and undoing him more than he’d like. He shifted uneasily. “You’re getting pretty cocky here, Slick.”

Ethan’s eyes danced. “You have objections to my cockiness?”

“Oh, I love every cocky bit of you,” Randy replied, but it was more of an endearment than a rejoinder. Ethan smiled and took his hand, knowing he had won. Goddamn it.

But Ethan redeemed himself when he led them to the poker room.

“I want to know about the other games,” he said, pointing to the tables that were not playing Texas Hold ’Em. “How do you play them?”

“They’re all different,” Randy said. “Pai Gow, Seven-Card Stud, Omaha Hi/Lo—that’s about it. Mostly it’s Hold ’Em, limit or no-limit.”

“And what’s that room back there?” Ethan asked, pointing to an ornate set of doors beneath a stained-glass window depicting men playing poker.

“That’s Billy’s Room,” Randy said. “That’s Billy Senior, mind you. Invite only in there, and it’s Crabtree that does the inviting now. That much was stipulated in the will. Probably not legal, but Billy Junior goes along with it, mostly because the rake alone can bring in more than the rest of the casino some nights. Big, big games happen there. Thousands of dollars a hand.”

“Hmm,” Ethan said, staring at the door. “Billy didn’t mention it this afternoon. Have you been there?”

“God, no!” Randy said, and he laughed.

Ethan raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t want to?”

“If I had that much money, I wouldn’t play poker with it,” Randy replied.

“You haven’t answered me about the bet,” Ethan pointed out.

“You mean about the statue?” Randy snorted. “Okay, what are we betting, Slick?”

“We’re betting that I can get the fountain back,” Ethan said.

“By when?”

Ethan considered. “A month.”

It wasn’t going to happen, ever, but Randy was feeling particularly sadistic. “Two weeks.”

Ethan smiled. “Done.”

Why was the smile getting to him so much tonight? “Terms, Slick. What are we betting to win?”

Ethan frowned. “I don’t know. Money?”

“Money is so boring.” Randy smiled back, aggressively, and he was pleased to see he wasn’t the only one who could be caught off guard by those tonight. “How about a lap dance for the winner, from the loser?”

Ethan blinked, then smiled. “That sounds acceptable.”

Yeah, because we both win no matter what.
Talk about getting the best of it. Randy held out his hand, Ethan shook it, and the bet was made.

“Where did Mitch and Sam go?” Ethan looked around. “I thought they were with us.”

“We headed toward poker, and they figured it was time to entertain themselves. My guess would be the River.”

“The bar.” Ethan stuck his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels for a second, thinking. Then he looked at Randy. “Well. Do you want to go find them?”

Randy shrugged. “I’m just following you around, Slick, waiting for orders.”

Ethan’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, is that how it is? Why didn’t you say so?” He took Randy’s arm and led him back down through the tables.

“Where are we going, Ethan?” Randy asked, his voice full of warning.

“To play a game, Ace,” Ethan replied.

“I’m not playing craps,” Randy declared.

“No,” Ethan agreed. “You’re playing roulette.”

“Slick!” Randy tried to pull away.

Ethan didn’t let him go. “You’re playing. I’m buying the chips. And you’re playing.”

Randy rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull back again, and he didn’t say anything else. Why the hell did Ethan have to get all dominant over
this
, anyway? Why couldn’t he be ordering them back to the house for something interesting? But no, they had to play
roulette
.