“So what do you think, sweetheart?” Catterson places a hand on my bare knee right on top of one of the bruises and I have to fight the compulsion to shove him away and slap his face.  “Should I go big or play it safe.”

I dazzle him with my aren’t I so pretty and innocent smile. “What’s that saying… go big or go home?”

“I like your way of thinking.” He winks at me as he puts in his ridiculous bet and I force myself to giggle while I twirl a strand of my hair around my finger. As he waits for the rest to either fold, match, or raise, he leans into me and says in a hushed tone, “You are legal, aren’t you?”

Fucking dumbass. “Of course,” I say with another giggle. “Do I really look that young to you?”

He slants back and lets his pervert eyes lazily scroll over my body, taking an extra long time at where my dress starts to cover my legs. “You look fine as hell.” He says it as if it’s a compliment, as if hell’s a fine place and that being good looking will make me a silly girl who swoons into his arms—and who uses the word swoon.

“Thank you,” I say like an airhead. Jesus, all I need is some bubblegum and I’m one step away from being a ditz.

He nudges my half drank drink in my direction, a vodka and cranberry. “Drink up beautiful.”

I can tell he thinks I’m going to get good and wasted, go home with him, and get freaky. Honestly, I’m getting to the wasted part, so my cattiness is starting to come out, claws and everything… oh, claws… and Luke’s skin… I shake the fogginess in my head. Focus. Violet. And stop drinking so much.

Catterson is still grinning at me and I have to force myself to grin back. There’s no way I’m going home with this guy. I have my eyes set on the smoking hot guy sitting across the table, intense brown eyes, soft hair, smell like familiarity and everything I wish I could have, but am scared as hell to take, because of what it’ll mean—facing my emotions head on. But seriously, if there weren’t so many damn people around right now, I’d crawl across the table and attack him… rip his clothes off and bite him, lick him, do all kinds of naughty things to him…

That thought has me looking down at my glass, wondering just how much I’ve drank. It’s empty now. Crap, I can’t even remember finishing it off… and is it my fifth, sixth… eighth? Dammit, this is bad. Drunken Violet is reckless, wild, impulsive. She can easily get out of control, worse than sober Violet. I should get up and go sleep it off in the car… yeah, I’ll do that, just after I do another shot with what’s his face.

“Bottoms up,” he says as he hands me a shot glass full of black licorice scent booze—probably jager. Then he lifts his own glass and chugs the whole thing down in one swallow.

I put the rim of the glass to my mouth and knock it back in one gulp, licking my lips and plopping the empty glass down on the table like I’m some kind of badass shot taker. But I’m not and I instantly regret drinking it as my stomach churns. Vomit burns at the back of my throat… I think I’m going to throw up. No, don’t do that. Suck it up.

“You going to be okay there?” Catterson asks, putting his hand on my shoulder to steady me as I start to tip sideways in the chair.

I make my damn lips turn upward, forcing myself to suck it up—be tough Violet. The one that sells drugs and dazzles costumers. “I’m good,” I tell him, managing to smile again, which he gladly reciprocates.

“A little strong for you, huh?” he asks and then doesn’t wait for me to answer. “That’s okay. We’ll get you one of those little fruity drinks,” he says and I have to resist the urge to let my smart mouth fly. Grinning, he turns back to his cards, losing the hand and cursing under his breath, but when he looks at me he simply says, “You win some, you lose some.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to get lucky the next hand.” I wink at him and let my fingers drift to the low neckline of my shirt. God, I’m good, I think to myself as I see the bulge in his pants

“I sure hope so,” he says, adjusting himself as he picks up his newly dealt cards and observes them with a serious look on his face.

I take the opportunity to sneak another glance at Luke sitting across from me. His uncle and cousin are spread out at different tables. In the car they explained that it was pointless to play against each other, especially when they’re all cheating. Evidentially, cheating is some kind of family thing or something, at least on his father’s side. Although, Ryler didn’t seem to into it. In fact, he acted like he was only here for his father.

Luke’s been pretty quiet the entire game, sipping on Bacardi and smoking his cigarettes, up quite a bit. I know him well enough to know he’s cheating, but I can’t tell what hands he’s cheating on, which is probably a good thing.

As I continue to openly stare at him, he assesses his cards as the bids make their way around the table. When it’s his turn, he puts in about two hundred chips then sits back in the chair, appearing relaxed as the dealer turns over a card. Keeping his cards in one hand, he takes a long sip of his drink, then a deep drag of his cigarette, seemingly oblivious to my excessive gawking of him. Or at least that’s what I think until he glances up at me over his cards, his lips quirking as he winks at me, and I wonder if he was aware of it the entire time. It makes little butterflies dance in my stomach, which has never happened before. Then again it could be the jager and vodka that’s doing it, not butterflies. Oh who the hell cares what it is. I want him. I don’t even care that I’m drunk. I need to do something reckless tonight to still all this energy inside me and right now I want that something to be him, even though he’s the cause of the energy.

Game end soon please. My thighs are burning.

I squeeze my legs shut and attempt to be as patient as I can, watching the players dwindle around the table, while remaining my charming self to Catterson. Finally, the damn thing comes to an end, Luke winning over nine grand, while his uncle and Ryler lose all their money. Well, at least that’s how it appears.  But I overheard them in the car. Cole and Ryler were to lose to make it not look so suspicious and in return Luke gives them each a third so technically he’s only up three grand. I wonder if he’ll be able to make enough and what will happen to him if he doesn’t. Being a realist and knowing something about Geraldson’s world, I have two pretty good ideas, 1). Luke will get the shit beat out of him, pretty badly. I’m not sure if they’d kill him, but just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Or 2). Luke will end up not going back to Laramie, deciding it’s better to stay away than return to the risk. That option surprisingly makes me sick to my stomach too.

“So where you heading now you sexy, beautiful thing?” Catterson asks, the sound of his voice forcing me back to reality. I realized I’ve lost a little bit of time while I zoned out. Everyone has already started clearing out and Catterson is looking at me expectedly, like I’m about to fuck him right here in the open. “You gotta head back or do you want to come back to the back room with me? Because I’d love to see that fine ass of yours in my hands.”

There are so many things I want to say to this guy. Like for starters, asking him if that ridiculous line has ever worked. But I know I have to keep my mouth shut and say the right thing, otherwise I’ll be busted.

I don’t know what the back room is, but I have some ideas. Back during my time living on the streets, I ended up sneaking into a strip club with this dude who said we could score some beer from the backroom because it was easily accessible without anyone seeing us. Turned out the backroom didn’t hold beer, but naked women giving out blowjobs and lap dances. Yep, way to awaken me to my sexuality.

She’s actually got to hitch a ride with us. Ryler appears by my side and causally puts and arm around me, all night in shiny armor, signing. Gotta make sure she gets home safe.

Catterson glances from Ryler to me and I give him my best I’m-so-sorry-but-not-this-time smile. “What’s he saying?” he asks confusedly.

“He says he needs to get me home safe,” I tell him, giving him my best I’m-so-sorry-but-we-can’t-hook-up look.

“She’s family?” he asks Ryler with a doubtful look, like he can’t possibly make out the family resemblance.

Cousins, Ryler mouths, giving me this weird side hug thing before he steers me along with him across the room, past the tables, and toward the exit doors, waving at Catterson before opening the door and then we step outside.

“Awe, thanks cuz,” I say with a sarcastic grin as I step out into the dark parking lot and overheated desert air. The street is a little ways away, but pretty vacant, the city in the distance, a cluster of sparkling lights that dance against the night.

Ryler smiles as he lets the door shut behind him, then his hands move in front of him as he signs, Hey, it was better than letting you come up with an explanation as to why you flirted the fuck out of him the entire night, but aren’t going to let him bang you in the backroom.

“Hey maybe I wanted him to bang me in the backroom,” I state, elevating my eyebrows as I walk backwards, facing him. I’m getting feistier by the second and the need for Luke to get out here soon grows, otherwise I’m going to end up doing something stupid probably.

Ryler pauses in the middle parking lot, confusion masking his face as he messes around with his eyebrow piercing. Aren’t you with Luke, though?

I stop walking and put my hands on my hips. “Does it look like I’m with Luke?” I’m all talk though because all I want to do right now is be with Luke.