Heartbreak Me by T.L. Smith Page 0,8
tits up more.” He eyes them. “What you have anyway.” His nose scrunches up. “You have men to distract.” Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing with the security guard who looks down at my cleavage, then turns away.
Did that bastard just insult my tits?
“Follow me,” the security guard says.
My hands cup my breasts, and I do as he says, pushing them up as we walk through a door that leads to a kitchen, then through yet another door, which, once it’s opened, allows the sounds of music and laughter to drift through.
“That man is on Australia’s most wanted list, and he is our highest bidder tonight. Distract him enough to make sure he loses. Do whatever you need to. What he loses will be taken off your debt, so make it count,” the security guard states, then steps back out the door, shutting it behind him.
My hands clutch my purse with determination. If he is a big bidder, that means if I make him lose at least half of his winnings, it could be a huge chunk off what Lucy owes.
Eyeing him up and down, I notice he is round, very round. Everywhere. Wondering why he is wanted by authorities probably isn’t a smart move; I am better off not knowing. Looking around, there are another five men in the room totaling six, with two waitresses, and one other girl dressed like I am smiling at one man in particular, which isn’t the man I need to impress, thank God.
Walking to the bar where he’s seated, chips in hand, I tap the bar with my fingers as the bartender walks over.
“What can I get ya?”
“Just water, thanks.”
The bartender squints, then pours a glass of water, making it fancy with a few blocks of ice and a lemon wedge, then he leaves it on the counter before he walks away.
“Water? What’s your real motive?”
I turn, managing to keep my face smiling as I look at him. His hair, likely once dark, is faded and receding, brushed over to compensate for the loss of fullness. I look down to the floor and back to him, hoping my eyes portray innocence. Men love it when a woman is naive. It brings their macho genes into play, and they get to be the gods they think they are.
“My sister convinced me to come… said it would be thrilling,” I tell him with a bite of my bottom lip. I lean in closer. “Is it? Thrilling?”
He smirks as if he’s won the damn lottery. “It sure is, babe. Stick with me, and I’ll show you a good time.”
I brush him off. “I don’t want to be a pain. I mean… I don’t even know how to play.”
“You don’t need to know how to play, you just need to watch.”
I nod as he calls the bartender over. “Now, tell him what you really want to drink.”
“Vodka,” I reply.
The bartender nods and pours me a straight vodka over ice and hands it to me, which makes the man next to me smile.
“That’s more like it.”
I take a sip, and when I do, I realize it’s exactly what I had before. Water.
Looking up at the bartender, he taps his ear, then points to the camera above the bar.
Of course I can’t drink, because that would make it easier.
Round man, which is what I have decided to call him, touches my bare leg, and I have to remember to not throw him off and slap him for touching me.
“Stay close, babe, you may just be my good luck charm.”
Yeah, fucking right.
Everyone walks over to the tables and takes their seats. The round man makes sure I am right next to him as he starts playing. He begins with one thousand dollars, and I have to remember to keep my lips from opening and saying something at his disrespect for spending so much money on gambling. That money could be used on so many good things instead of going to a man who’s most definitely an asshole.
He plays his first hand, and I don’t do much of anything. Round man drinks four drinks while he plays, and by his fifth his arm reaches out and wraps around my waist.
Distract.
Deflect.
Sidetrack him.
I look past round man to where I know the camera is located and glance up at it before I let my lips touch the round man’s neck while whispering to him asking if he needs a drink. But in reality it’s a distraction method.
It works, and he keeps me