Chapter 1
“So, you guys come here often?” Ava says, leaning back in her chair. The men seated around the poker table stare at her. Ava just grins back, waiting for her generally clueless vibe to disarm them. Beatrice, who had gotten herself hired on as a dealer two weeks prior, makes eye contact with Ava as she passes out cards. Nobody else on the planet would be able to divine an emotion from Beatrice’s total lack of expression, but Ava is a bit of a self-declared Beatrice expert. She detects vague concern—which is what Beatrice means to communicate, because she can’t tell Ava out loud to stay on task—and beneath that, affectionate amusement.
“Few times a week,” one of the men says in response to Ava’s question. Ava turns her smile on him. “And I never lose, but I could make an exception for you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Ava says. She wants to grimace. They’d looked this guy up before coming here—he isn’t their mark, who is, of course, the owner of the casino, but he’s close enough to the owner to be relevant to their work. This guy has pretty rough record: divorce, unpaid child support, several counts of disorderly conduct, minor assault, a DUI. “So how does this game work, anyway?” She picks up her cards and starts arranging them in her hand.
Ava tunes out another player’s explanation of the rules in favor of running her foot up Beatrice’s calf under the table. Beatrice looks at her again. This time, she’s glaring enough that an outside observer might pick up on it.
She does not, however, move her leg away.
They play more hands than they were really expecting before someone figures out that Beatrice is helping Ava cheat. They’re taken to a back room and left to wait while the police are called. Beatrice, tragically, rejects Ava’s request to make out with her and demands that Ava go over the plan with her.
“Cops come,” Ava says with an eye roll. “I freak out and take off running when they let us out of the room. I lead the cops into the owner’s office, they find his extensive collection of illegal weaponry, we make off with the money and the—whatchamacallit, the gun Lilith wants, in the confusion.”
“Do not actually get the gun for Lilith,” Beatrice says.
“Sure.” Ava is getting the gun for Lilith. “And, duh, don’t lose the wig again.”
“That’s a serious concern, Ava,” Beatrice says. “We can never go back to Poland.”
“Tragic, really.”
“Ava.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ava says. “I won’t lose the stupid wig. Now can we make out?” Beatrice glares at her. Ava wiggles her eyebrows.
“…Fine. Only for a minute.”