Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(22)

“After last night?”

“I guess he forgave you,” Harry said. “Lucky thing too. It’s a good charter.”

I shook my head in frustration. “It’s not lucky if he’s pissed off and trying to screw me out of another tip.”

“You ditched them last night,” Harry said, leaning forward and jabbing a fat finger on the mess on his desk. “I’m lucky he hired—and paid for—another charter. It would’ve well been within his rights to cancel last night’s payment, never mind your tip.” He leaned back in his chair, making it creak. “Win-win for both of us, Fletcher. I keep his business and you get a second chance.”

“Boss…”

Harry turned that jabbing finger in my direction. “You’re my best driver, Jonah, but I’m none too happy about last night. Finish the job if you want to keep yours.”

I left Harry’s office in a daze, his words echoing in my head.

A second chance…

“Goddammit,” I muttered. I almost turned around to storm back into the office and tell Harry to forget it, someone else could take the charter. Except Harry was on the verge of firing me, and I couldn’t afford to lose my job.

I strode through the garage, past rows of black and white limousines, town cars, and sedans, bolstering myself.

I can be professional. I’ll do my job, and get through this night.

“Hey, Fletcher…”

I turned to see Kyle Porter, another driver, headed to his car.

“I heard you got the Rapid Confession gig. Twice, you lucky bastard. The guitar chick is f*cking hot.”

I climbed behind the wheel of my black stretch and slammed the door. “Tell me about it.”





By six o’clock, I was back at the Summerlin residence, parked in the circular drive, waiting for the band to emerge. The sun had only begun to set, streaking the sky orange and purple on the western horizon. Normally, I’d have studied the play of light, thinking how I could recapture those colors in swirls of melted glass. But I was too distracted. What was I going to say to her? Make a joke? Make her smile and laugh? Or just play it cool. Keep to the routine…

“It’s you!”

I jerked out of my thoughts to see the band and their manager, bags in hand, nearly at the car. And Kacey…

She bounded up to me in leggings, ankle boots, and an oversize black T-shirt with Ziggy Stardust on the front. She’d piled her hair on top of her head in a messy knot and her face was scrubbed free of makeup, and lit up with a combination of joy and relief that sent my borrowed heart into a fit of rapid beats.

She planted her hands on her hips, giving me a playful, arch look. “Are you stalking me?”

Before I could reply, Jimmy Ray sidled up to Kacey and slung his arm around her. “So this is the heroic limo driver who took care of my girl last night. I hired him again, kitten, as a personal thank you.” He winked at me. “She’s a little handful, isn’t she?”

I’d seen pricks like this guy a million times during my six months as a limo driver in Vegas. I always treated them with detached courtesy. But Jimmy’s hand hovered over Kacey’s right breast and an urge to punch his smug face came over me like a tidal wave.

“Go on, get,” Jimmy said to Kacey. He unslung his arm and smacked her lightly on the ass to hustle her into the limo.

An embarrassed smile flickered over Kacey’s lips, and she didn’t look at me as she climbed in.

Jimmy Ray extended his hand to me, and I took it out of professional habit.

“All is forgiven, buddy.” He pulled me close. “I hope you had a good time with my girl last night, but we’re not going to make a habit out of it, yeah? Don’t wear out the goods.”

His hand oozed out of mine, leaving a hundred-dollar bill in my palm.

I crumpled the money into my fist as he climbed in the back. Only the threat of losing my job kept me from chucking it at his feet. I shut the limo door hard—a hair away from slamming it—and loaded the band’s bags into the trunk.

Once behind the wheel, my eyes itched to find Kacey in the rearview mirror, but the partition went up, muffling the sounds of loud talk and laughter. I pulled out of Summerlin and drove to the Strip, already glittering in the falling twilight.

Just east of the Flamingo, near the convention center, I veered off the boulevard and maneuvered my stretch to the rear parking lot of the Pony Club, just as I had the night before. I opened doors and unloaded the bags one by one, just like the night before. But now I was acutely conscious of Kacey behind me, waiting her turn. She came last, and I turned to hand off her bag. Her eyes were cerulean blue and made electric by the dingy amber light of the streetlamp that flickered on above us.

“So Jimmy requested you personally,” she said quietly, as the others filed in the back door.

“He did.”

“I hope he wasn’t a dick to you. He can be…”

“Dickish?”

“Yeah. But he’s a good manager.”

I shut the trunk. “That’s all that matters.”

One of the band members, a girl with blue and black hair, poked her head out of the back door. “Kace?”

“Coming.” Kacey called over her shoulder. “That’s Lola, my best friend. She got me into this band. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be on the streets. I can’t let her down, you know?”