Chapter Two: Untimely Interruptions
Jaz
Some people knew me as Jaz?short for Jasmine. Others knew me as Taylor, named after Taylor Swift, or Pam?short for Pamela. They knew whatever name I chose at the time. No one cared anyway. As far as I was concerned it was me, myself and I in this life. And that’s how I liked it. I never overstayed my welcome in a place. My life motto was here for a good time, not a long time. I knew how to survive and overcome, something I’d been doing since I was 14. Living on the streets taught me this. It's the reason I could live the high life now. I was pretty damn good at it.
My past wasn’t a place I liked to dwell. A sick burning feeling hit me in the center of my chest when memories surfaced, causing me to break down into a complete mess for days on end. My mind played tricks and brought the devil to my doorstep with painful thoughts. I shut them out and closed the door. Drinking and taking people’s money in the casino helped fill the void only part of the time.
My eyes glazed over for a moment as I kissed two fingers and touched them to the only crumpled photo of my parents I possessed. The photo sat neatly tucked into the bathroom mirror. I took this precious photo with me wherever I went. All three of us were together at Disneyland when I was 12 years old. Spinning around in giant teacups with my mother had to be one of the best moments of my life. My father thought it was a bogus ride, so he didn’t ride with us. He went on a lot of others to make up for it. I felt pleased I was blessed with her gorgeous eyes and Dad’s elongated nose. They gave me an air of sophistication, even though I felt like a plain Jane on the inside sometimes.
I expelled a heavy sigh. If I could never speak of the tragedy that changed my life ever again?I wouldn’t. I buried the pain deep like a dog buried its bones.
I focused on the hairpin lodged between my teeth as I tried unsuccessfully to pin my shoulder-length bob up at the sides. Red lipstick lined my delicate lips. My eyebrows were on fleek. I’d just had them done at the local beauty salon in Holbeck. A cute town with a Ferris wheel and all. I’d seen better in my time, but I was here on a mission and wasn’t leaving until I got what I wanted.
My makeup looked flawless and I smelled like a floral bouquet with a hint of oriental spice. I’d bought a nice bottle of perfume as a treat with my winnings the other night at the Red Stone Casino. I sniffed my wrist, inhaling the sweet fragrance, and grinned to myself in the mirror.
Oh yeah girl, you got it going on. You’ve done it again.
My crystal blue eyes were a hot feature and often got me just what I wanted. I closed them for a moment as I ran a thin line of liquid eyeliner from one edge to the other. My hand was steady. I’d perfected the art of the cat-eye, making my baby blues stand out even more.
For five-foot-five, I packed a punch. Light on my feet, with an hourglass physique. I’d picked out one of my sassier numbers to entice the players tonight—a black leather corset under a black blazer with tails hanging down the back. I wanted people to entertain the idea of me as a sexy magician. My tight black pants accented my perky butt, a pair of black heels with silver spikes topped off the look.
Eat your heart out, Red Stone Casino, here I come for another night of hijinks.
I managed to snag a nice modern apartment overlooking the peace of the Holbeck wharf. It had been a lucky find because it was a short hop from my casino of choice, perfect for my next stint. I was fresh in town and a week shy of rocking Vegas. Now that place had pizzazz. The glitz, the glamor, the showgirls. The whole town was a real turn-on for me and boy, had I run it.
If I wanted to just sit back and enjoy Holbeck for the next few years I could, but the itch to teeter on the edge of quick thrills made it too hard.
This slow-ass town might not be enough to hold my attention, but these smaller stops often topped up my wallet and kept me rolling in the lifestyle of my choice. I’d exhausted all my chips, so to speak, in the land of bright lights. If I stayed any longer, I would have been caught.
“That’s the thing in this game, Jaz. You gotta know when to pack it in and move the hell on,” Hands used to tell me. The man was crafty. He walked with a limp and his eyes used to water all the time, but they saw just what they needed to see. He’d been the only man not to try anything on me in the streets. He took me into his lofty San Francisco warehouse and taught me how to play blackjack, poker, and to rule at the game.
The first day I got there he pushed a bowl of soup across the concrete floor with buttered bread. “Eat. You’re going to need to keep your strength up. You’ll need 100% clarity for what I’m about to teach you.”
I wasn’t the only street kid living with him. Dusty, Raymond and Sheila also lived there. We had fun together and a lot of close calls that almost got us killed as well. We kept the bills paid and the lights on for him. We played street card games and brought most of the earnings back to him.
He showed some mercy and gave us each a small allowance. As I got older, I understood his motives. He wanted us to stay loyal to him and I did for a short period of time. The others left as soon as they were old enough. Watching them go was always a sad day, but so was the story of my life. Never get too attached and always be ready to go at any time.
I wanted to learn the casino games that Hands used to play. He would tell me stories that made me feel an excitement I’d never felt before. One of the best trade secrets he brought out in me was learning how to read people in a short period of time. I say he brought it out because I learned it myself. Without it, I’d have either been raped or jumped. Reading people was a necessity at a craps table and he was a magnificent teacher. ‘Hands’ got his name because he was so quick with his. When he shuffled cards, you couldn’t see what was going on. He would mesmerize targets with his voice and his sly hands.
My mind resurfaced from the past back to the present. I felt satisfied with my look for the night. I headed to the casino, slipping through the front door to the familiar sound of slot machines chinging. I observed the numbness in the gamblers. They seemed to have no lives and were hoping to win big or pass the time, throwing their money away into the greedy machines.
My heels sank briefly into the red carpet with gold squares as I strode across the floor, assessing the room. I grabbed a drink from the bar and sipped through my straw as my eyes worked to find the best start. To my far left sat a table of seven at what looked to be a decent game of blackjack. Every player waiting in anticipation for the dealer to dish out the cards. The dealer himself appeared sleepy. His eyes were droopy, and I even saw him yawn.
Perfect.
Ninety percent of the players were men and they were easy marks. A little eye batting and a hip bump would keep them from focusing on the post bet I put down. I knew how to play the game. I wasn’t bad when playing it straight, but it was much more fun to cheat. I checked my peripherals for security. A couple of beef jerkys, but nothing to worry about. They weren’t a threat to me.
I made my way to the cashier and procured a thousand dollars’ worth of chips. Then I headed to the green felt table and sidled in between two men.
One of them had a drink in front of him and the other one kept tapping his finger on his chips, ready to go.
I gave both of them a winning smile and nodded at the dealer.
The one on the left flash a lusty grin back at me.
I was about to settle into my seat and let the games begin when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
The dealer was about to start the game. He seemed to be concentrating on all the other players, not paying attention to me. I grimaced, annoyed at the tap on my shoulder. If I didn’t signal the dealer, he wouldn’t let me in on the game. I decided to ignore the tap. Mr. Big Shot to my left was betting big and I wanted a piece of the pie.