He’s back to counting our pot and then dividing it into thirds. “That guy was crowding you tonight,” he says, and my heart stops.
It’s quiet a moment, and Helen takes a pull on her cigarette. The orange cherry glows in the darkness.
“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I was worried for a second he might see me.”
“That’s why this is a three-person job.” He leans back and looks at me. Three even stacks are before him on the table.
“Ava played an important role, in case you didn’t notice.” My chest is tight, and if we hadn’t run our own, separate con, I’d be pissed. Seth never acknowledges Ava’s role in keeping security distracted. “You guys made as much noise as possible. I’m surprised we didn’t have the entire police force standing around watching us play.”
That makes him laugh, and he leans forward. “Take it easy, Fireball. I know little sister is an asset.”
“You never include her in the winnings.”
Lifting his eyebrows, he does a little shrug. “If she brings in cash, she can have a share of the winnings.”
I’m still not sure if he’s waiting for me to confess what happened with the thousand-dollar chip. The old saying “no honor among thieves” drifts through my mind, and he can wait all night if he thinks I’ll cave. Whatever he knows, if anything, he’ll have to say it.
“It was so much easier when they let us smoke in the casinos,” Helen sighs a long cloud of blue smoke. “Hiding that transmitter in your cuff is not ideal.”
“Either way, we’ve burned up our chances of winning any more here.” My eyes ache. My spine is tired from absorbing all the stress of the evening, and exhaustion is rolling over me like the warm surf.
“We’ll lay low for a month or so. I’ll call with our next rendezvous point.” Seth shoves a pile of money toward me, and I stand. “You should have enough there to keep you both comfortable until I call.”
Picking up my clutch, I tuck the stack inside without bothering to count it. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
He’s on his feet equally fast. “Hey, Zee…” Hazel eyes twinkle in the tall lights, and he reaches up to slide the black glasses off his head. “That’s it? No hug before you go?”
I pause, evaluating his request. I’ve known Seth Hines since I was twenty-one, hustling pool players in panhandle bars while Ava lifted food and petty cash off vendors in the farmer’s markets.
Seth is two years older than me, and when we met, he was selling human growth hormone in South Beach. He cleaned us up, taught us how to talk right, made me stop saying fuck all the time. That swear jar almost broke me on the F-bomb alone. I’d never realized how useful (and versatile) that term was.
Basically he turned us into knock-off Bar Harbor society girls as opposed to the panhandle hicks we truly are. He also taught me how to gamble in nice casinos, which is different from gambling in shit-hole dive bars.
He taught me how to stay cool when it looks like I’m about to get busted. He taught me to be a pro. But not Ava. Back then she was too young. Then when she was old enough, he said she was too pretty.
“Targets will want to sleep with her or at the very least hit on her,” he’d said. “Having a memorable face is a liability in this game.”
By saying that, he had essentially called me plain and forgettable, but I shook that shit off. He was right. Ava’s beauty was the reason we were forced into a life of petty crime in the first place. It wasn’t what I promised her when I said I’d take care of us, but we were making it. I didn’t want her taking chances like me.
Two years later, and we’ve graduated from small-time card tricks to more complex schemes with bigger payoffs. We’re only loosely associated with Seth, and I like to keep it that way. He has a mean side. He’s never hurt me, but I don’t get too close. I don’t trust him.
Seth’s a grifter like me, and a grifter like me will do anything to get what he wants. In my case it’s security, a safe place for Ava and me. In Seth’s case, it’s the big score, the ultimate win.
I step forward into his outstretched arms, but I only hug him briefly before pulling back.
“What? That’s it?” he laughs.
“Ava’s back at the hotel alone, and I’m ready to crash.”
He waves and drops in his chair. “Suit yourself.”
“Night, Helen.” I wave at the part-Seminole granny, who always adds color to our jobs. “Can’t wait to see what you show up wearing next.”
She takes another pull off her cigarette and exhales a chuckle. “Night, Zee. Take care of you two.”
“It’s what I do,” I say as I go.
It’s what I’ve been doing for the past six years, and I don’t intend to stop. Survival skills have gotten us this far.