Gettin' Lucky (6 page)

After a moment, I followed them.

I worked on the horoscopes all weekend long. In fact, I was working on them at times when I should have been working on homework, but whatever. I figured there was always extra credit.

Kelly liked my second “feature,” as she called it, and invited me to the library during our study hall to work on her website. She showed me the counter that indicated how many hits the site had gotten. She was right—it was through the roof since we’d posted horoscopes. Mostly I was just impressed by how many people visited the site at all. Kelly asked me what I did on weekends, and I had to admit that lately, I’d been alternating between hikes with
Maxine, working on the horoscopes, and Lifetime movie marathons. Which made Kelly laugh, but I
think
it was more with me than at me. At least, I hope it was.

“You should work on the horoscopes this weekend,” Kelly said, pulling her hair into a ponytail and peering at the computer screen.

“I will,” I said, nodding.

“But you should also come to my place on Saturday night. It’s poker night.”

I don’t know why I was so surprised. I’d heard about some of these games before; Jesse and Alana both were big into them. I had always demurred, my father’s experiences on my mind.

It wasn’t all that odd that Kelly had her own game. But it was a little bit weird that she was inviting
me
to join in. Or, if not weird, it was unexpected. In three years of high school we’d never been more than casual acquaintances. But maybe some kids were just friendly that way. Or maybe she thought I was
really
pathetic.

I decided she was just friendly.

“I don’t know,” I said tentatively. “I don’t really gamble.”

Kelly laughed. “It’s not such high
stakes. Five dollars to get in. You must know how to play, right? I mean, I don’t think there is anyone in Vegas who doesn’t know how to play poker.”

“I know how to play,” I said quickly. “I just … like my money when it’s my own.” I didn’t have all that much, after all—just cash from the odd babysitting job here and there.

“I hear you,” Kelly replied. “And, you know, no pressure. But it
could
be more fun than talking to your dog. Maybe you could just play a hand and see how it goes.”

The offer was both tempting and terrifying. I really wouldn’t know anyone on more than a casual “hey” kind of basis. But then, given that I hardly said more than that to my so-called friends these days, what did I have to lose, really?

Other than five bucks, of course.

I guessed that I could spare five bucks.

“One hand would work,” I said. “But I should warn you, I’m not that good at the game.”

Kelly smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll get good. Quickly. Practice makes perfect, blah blah.”

“Are you, like, down a player?”

I had to ask. Not that it was beyond the realm of possibility that Kelly would
want
to hang out with me. But it wasn’t necessarily the first thought I would have had.

“As a matter of fact, we are, this week,” Kelly explained. “Becs has pinkeye and she’s under quarantine.” She shuddered. “Gross. But I would have asked you, anyway. I’ve been dying to have you over to my house.”

At my puzzled look, she giggled. It was a strange sound coming out of Kelly, who looked like a bonafide non-giggler. “It’s my room. It needs serious feng shui. That strikes me as the kind of thing you’d be good at.”

I rolled my eyes, but I had to laugh.
Of course
it was the kind of thing I was good at.

I supposed I didn’t mind being so predictable. Not if it meant that I had a chance to start over with some new friends.

When you thought about it, it might be kind of lucky, really.

I wasn’t sure how to dress for poker night. On the one hand, it was being held in Kelly’s den, but on the other, it was a coed affair. Just because I was still in the process of mourning my failed relationship didn’t
mean that I wasn’t interested in attracting the opposite sex. Everyone wants to be cute, right? I finally settled on a lightweight sweater, jeans, and my favorite pink sneakers. I decided it didn’t matter that they were almost identical to the ones I’d been wearing when I first met Jesse. Jesse wasn’t here right now, was he?

As I ran a brush through my hair, my father popped his head into my bedroom. “Did you walk and feed Maxine?” he asked.

I nodded and stepped back from the mirror, smacking my lips together to better distribute my lip gloss. “Yup. An hour ago. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks, babe,” he said automatically. “You’ll be ready to leave in five?”

“I’m ready now,” I said. I was dropping him off at the restaurant on my way to Kelly’s.

“Great. What have you got on for tonight?” he asked. “Hot date?”

His face blazed crimson the moment the words were out of his mouth. I could tell he felt twelve different types of sorry that a comment he’d intended so casually had been so loaded.

“Uh, no, actually,” I stammered. As a
matter of fact, my own hot date was probably on his way out with my ex-best friend right about now. “I’m just going over to my friend Kelly’s house.”

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention Kelly before.” He was clearly relieved to be off of the topic of my nonexistent dating life and on to the issue of my imaginary friends.

“No, she’s in my film class,” I said. “We sort of just started hanging out. Anyway, it’s not just me going over there tonight….”

I trailed off. My father would
so
not approve of me attending a poker night, that much I knew. I hated to lie to him, but I hated the thought of sitting home for yet another weekend, moping, even more. I decided that a concentrated stretching of the truth was in order. “It’s a game night,” I finally managed. There. It was ambiguous enough not to be a lie.

Unlike Alana and my other former friends, Kelly actually lived right on the Strip proper. In a casino, in point of fact. Her mother was a showgirl, and her father was someone very, very important at the casino. I didn’t know exactly what his job was, but
he was the guy you didn’t want to have to meet after a particularly lucky streak at the tables.

Each of the casinos on the Strip is built to a different theme, and each one takes its theme and really runs with it, 150 percent. So you’ve got Treasure Island, with a waterfall and a pirate motif; or the Luxor, which is actually built in the shape of a pyramid; and even the Paris, with a scale-model Eiffel Tower. Kelly lived in the Venetian, which I particularly love because of how it has an actual canal running through it. People elope to Vegas and get married alongside the canal, believe it or not. Crazy.

I deferred valet parking and found my way through the lot with the rest of the plebes, taking the elevator up to a special floor marked GUEST SUITES. Kelly had given me a key code for the elevator. It was all very exciting. I only had a key to my own house, none of this cloak-dagger business.

The elevator doors slid open directly into Kelly’s apartment. The first thing I noticed as she opened the door was a crazy panoramic view of the Strip.

“Hi,” I said, stepping through her doorway and into the apartment. “And
wow.” I gestured toward the neon sign from the Mirage. It was twinkling, fading in and out.

“Yeah, it’s like, a
mirage,
get it?” Kelly asked, rolling her eyes. She snorted. “Now you see it, now you don’t. This place is ridiculous.” I assumed she meant the psychedelic skyline, but she just as easily could have meant Vegas, I suppose.

“Ridiculous, yes. But it’s an awesome backdrop to a poker game,” I acknowledged.

Kelly led me farther inside and into the enormous sunken living room. She’d set up a card table in the far corner, and on the opposite side of the room, on the coffee table, she’d laid out an impressive array of eats: chips, pretzels, chocolate, and every possible soft drink you could imagine. “Help yourself,” she said. “Do you know everybody?”

I squinted at the four people who were already settled at the table. “By sight, yes, but I think that might be it,” I admitted guiltily. Had my Alana-Jesse bubble really been so hermetically sealed?

“No worries,” Kelly said, pulling me forward. “Guys—this is Cass, she’s in film
class with me, and she’s been doing the horoscopes for my site. So if you’ve had any big brushes with fate this week—for better or for worse—you can blame her.”

One girl, a redhead with supermodel proportions, hooted at me and clapped loudly. “Hi, Cass!” she screeched goodnaturedly.

“That’s Andy. Don’t mind her; she doesn’t have an inside voice,” Kelly explained. “And that’s James—”

“Jim,” the boy interjected.

“He’s been trying to build up a following of people calling him Jim, but it won’t take,” Kelly continued. “And that’s Marcus, and you know Elliot from film class.”

I
did
know Elliot from film class, I remembered. He was the one who had come up to us in the hall the other day, the one who always sat near Kelly and never said a word.

“We saved you a seat,” Marcus said, tapping the folding chair between him and Elliot. He smiled lecherously.

“Don’t be gross,” Kelly chided him. She turned to me. “He’s a weirdo, but harmless. And that really is your seat. That way, it’s boy-girl-boy-girl.”

“You’re our substitute Becs,” Andy shouted, still in her outside voice. Maybe it really
was
the only one that she had?

I poured myself a diet soda and settled into my place at the table. I looked around at this group of people—classmates of mine, but somehow, almost total strangers—and managed a weak but uncertain smile.

And then I got my butt kicked. Bigtime. Poker is a deceptively simple game. Really, the objective (meaning, more than
winning
) is to have the best hand at the table. Whether you can use community cards (as opposed to just the ones you’re dealt) depends on the type of poker you’re playing, but either way, it all comes down to either actually having the best hand … or tricking everyone else at the table into
thinking
you have the best hand. This little act of dishonesty is considered completely kosher in poker, and, in fact, if you’re any good at bluffing, your peers will probably respect you just that much more. Technically, you don’t even have to know the best hands to win. You just need to have the best poker face.

I knew what the best hands were. I just didn’t seem to have them.
Ever.

The game was simple and straightforward: Texas Hold ’Em. Kelly started out as dealer, and we all had a turn at big blind and little blind. True to Kelly’s promise, the maximum bet in any round was five dollars. I still managed to lose thirty over the course of the night. And even when I had a decent hand, someone else’s hand was better.

I just chalked it up to the luck of the draw.

Six

On Sunday, I went to the movies. I know some people think it’s sad or lame to go to the movies by yourself, but I actually really like it. I always have. The thing is that I just really love movies—and sometimes some stranger choices like slashers or indie flicks. I mean, I wasn’t especially academic about my appreciation, the way that Kelly was, but I was definitely a couch potato at heart. And if I waited around for other people to come with me to movies, I’d be waiting a long time. Especially since Jesse really only watched action-type stuff, and Alana was strictly romantic comedy.

Anyway, the Screening Room, which was a special revival house near where I lived, was
showing a Hitchcock double feature:
The 39 Steps
and
The Lady Vanishes.
They weren’t my top two choices, as far as the Hitchcock canon goes, but it was still a worthwhile way to spend a Sunday afternoon. So I went, stopping to get a kick, as I always do, out of the velvet curtain and the old-school ushers and all the other little touches that make the Screening Room special.

Neither of them are particularly long movies, but by the time
The Lady Vanishes
had ended, I was feeling like I was coming out of a coma and not just two back-to-back movies. My eyes were bleary, and it took me a few minutes to adjust to the natural light of the outside world. Once I could see again, I realized that I had traces of popcorn crumbled across the front of my jeans. Awesome. Maybe that was why Jesse had cheated on me—maybe he was more interested in a girl who could maintain basic personal hygiene?

It was a solid theory.

I was in the process of dusting myself off when I felt myself collide with another object. Specifically, a person-shaped object. I realized my mistake as soon as I heard my victim shout, “Ow!”

I looked up, mortified, to find that I
recognized my drive-by. He looked slightly less relaxed now, by the light of day, than he had looked at Kelly’s apartment the night before, but there was no mistaking that it was Elliot. The disheveled, dirty blond hair gave him away.

“Sorry!” I stammered, feeling incredibly socially awkward. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Elliot blinked at me sort of blankly. “I’m okay,” he said slowly.

He was looking at me so strangely that I assumed either he didn’t remember me or that I had more popcorn stuck to other, more ridiculous parts of my body. “Cass,” I reminded him.

He blushed. “I know who you are. I just … I guess I sort of spaced out there, for a minute. I was … thinking. Sorry for walking right into you.”

“No, hey, me too,” I said. “I was in a post-Hitchcock coma. Which is actually the best kind of coma to be in, I think. If you have to be in a coma.”

Seriously? What the heck was I talking about?

“You went to the movies?” Elliot asked.

I nodded and pointed first at the
Screening Room, and then toward the grease stains settling into the front of my jeans. “He went to so much trouble making those movies so precise and atmospheric, it seems like the least I can do is to see it on the big screen.”

Elliot looked slightly confused, but he smiled. “You’re probably right. I don’t see too many movies, myself.”