regretful glance before motioning for the slot manager to take over until he returned.
Before Lucky could rethink her strategy, she was inside a small office just off the main gaming room. When the door closed behind them, she was amazed at the contrast between the constant dull roar and the instant silence.
He slid into the chair behind his desk. If he was going to look up at a woman, at least he could be sitting when he did it. “So…why do you want a job here?” he asked.
Lucky folded her hands before her like a child about to recite, then smiled.
“Because it’s more like the places Johnny used to talk about. Because here there’s less flash and more class. And because I need to work and you need a dealer.”
Manny frowned. “So you said.” He stared, waiting for her to fidget or look away. She did neither. “Who’s Johnny?” he finally asked.
“My father.”
“So…he’s been here before and recommended the place to you?”
Lucky sighed. “No. I told you. Fluffy recommended Club 52. Johnny just talked about the shiny places, like Vegas and Reno. As a child, I always promised him that one day I would come for him.”
Manny sensed there was more behind this simple answer, but he wasn’t into family histories. And ordinarily he would have brushed off a woman with an approach like this. Yet something stilled the impulse. He handed her a deck of cards.
“Show me,” he said, and then leaned forward, openmouthed, when Lucky’s fingers began to fly. Cards slid between each other without a sound. She spread them, then cut, fanned, and shuffled again, yet this time, with only one hand.
He handed her a stack of chips and played twelve hands of blackjack with her, watching as she skillfully and quickly calculated his winnings and losses in her head.
“Where have you worked?” he asked.
“Nowhere. Before, it was just play.”
“ Madre de Dios! Then where did you learn to handle cards like that?”
“My father was a gambler.”
Manny sat back in his chair with a thump. The tension in her voice was now unmistakable.
“And you…you have this fever too?”
Lucky’s voice was full of anger when she answered. “Never. But he gave me the skill. It’s all I know. I’ll play, but only for the house. I never gamble with anything that belongs to me. Do you understand?”
Manny understood much more than that, but he let it pass.
“Do you have a sheriff’s card?”
She displayed all of her permits proudly, thankful that the realtor who’d rented her the apartment had let the necessity slip.
Manny nodded and then smiled. “They are exactly…twenty-four hours old. So, you’re new in town.”
Lucky laughed. Aloud. Without reserve.
“I’ve been waiting for that,” she said, swallowing a last chuckle.
Manny didn’t understand her remark, but it didn’tmatter. He’d been on her side since the moment her lips had parted in a smile. And when she’d laughed, he’d been sold.
“When can you start?” he asked.
“Tomorrow.”
Manny nodded. “Go by the office and pick up an application. For now, you’ll be on the three to eleven shift. Come early. I’ll get you outfitted with a uniform and show you where you’ll work.”
“What do you pay?”
Manny grinned. “I wondered if you were going to ask.”
“First things first,” Lucky said. “Didn’t matter if I didn’t get the job now, did it?”
“We’re a cut above the average on wages in town, and you can ask anyone to verify.”
When she nodded her approval, he grinned.
“As usual, the woman has the last word. Welcome to Club 52.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Manny. Call me Manny.”
Lucky nodded. “And you can call me Lucky.”
The little mustache above his lips fairly danced with amusement. “You’re name is beautiful…just as you are, chica , but you’ll have to put your legal name on your application.”
“That is my name,” Lucky said quietly. “I told you…my father was a gambler. My oldest sister’s
Before Lucky could rethink her strategy, she was inside a small office just off the main gaming room. When the door closed behind them, she was amazed at the contrast between the constant dull roar and the instant silence.
He slid into the chair behind his desk. If he was going to look up at a woman, at least he could be sitting when he did it. “So…why do you want a job here?” he asked.
Lucky folded her hands before her like a child about to recite, then smiled.
“Because it’s more like the places Johnny used to talk about. Because here there’s less flash and more class. And because I need to work and you need a dealer.”
Manny frowned. “So you said.” He stared, waiting for her to fidget or look away. She did neither. “Who’s Johnny?” he finally asked.
“My father.”
“So…he’s been here before and recommended the place to you?”
Lucky sighed. “No. I told you. Fluffy recommended Club 52. Johnny just talked about the shiny places, like Vegas and Reno. As a child, I always promised him that one day I would come for him.”
Manny sensed there was more behind this simple answer, but he wasn’t into family histories. And ordinarily he would have brushed off a woman with an approach like this. Yet something stilled the impulse. He handed her a deck of cards.
“Show me,” he said, and then leaned forward, openmouthed, when Lucky’s fingers began to fly. Cards slid between each other without a sound. She spread them, then cut, fanned, and shuffled again, yet this time, with only one hand.
He handed her a stack of chips and played twelve hands of blackjack with her, watching as she skillfully and quickly calculated his winnings and losses in her head.
“Where have you worked?” he asked.
“Nowhere. Before, it was just play.”
“ Madre de Dios! Then where did you learn to handle cards like that?”
“My father was a gambler.”
Manny sat back in his chair with a thump. The tension in her voice was now unmistakable.
“And you…you have this fever too?”
Lucky’s voice was full of anger when she answered. “Never. But he gave me the skill. It’s all I know. I’ll play, but only for the house. I never gamble with anything that belongs to me. Do you understand?”
Manny understood much more than that, but he let it pass.
“Do you have a sheriff’s card?”
She displayed all of her permits proudly, thankful that the realtor who’d rented her the apartment had let the necessity slip.
Manny nodded and then smiled. “They are exactly…twenty-four hours old. So, you’re new in town.”
Lucky laughed. Aloud. Without reserve.
“I’ve been waiting for that,” she said, swallowing a last chuckle.
Manny didn’t understand her remark, but it didn’tmatter. He’d been on her side since the moment her lips had parted in a smile. And when she’d laughed, he’d been sold.
“When can you start?” he asked.
“Tomorrow.”
Manny nodded. “Go by the office and pick up an application. For now, you’ll be on the three to eleven shift. Come early. I’ll get you outfitted with a uniform and show you where you’ll work.”
“What do you pay?”
Manny grinned. “I wondered if you were going to ask.”
“First things first,” Lucky said. “Didn’t matter if I didn’t get the job now, did it?”
“We’re a cut above the average on wages in town, and you can ask anyone to verify.”
When she nodded her approval, he grinned.
“As usual, the woman has the last word. Welcome to Club 52.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Manny. Call me Manny.”
Lucky nodded. “And you can call me Lucky.”
The little mustache above his lips fairly danced with amusement. “You’re name is beautiful…just as you are, chica , but you’ll have to put your legal name on your application.”
“That is my name,” Lucky said quietly. “I told you…my father was a gambler. My oldest sister’s
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