The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(37)

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 f*ck 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.