CHAPTER 9 Ainsley Riggs #2
We take our drinks and head over toward one of the poker tables, where Dex proceeds to teach me how to play Texas Hold’em.
We watch at first since the tables are full, and he explains each part of the game to me.
The goal is to make the best hand with two cards you’re dealt down and the five cards the dealer has face-up.
Someone loses all their money and gets up, and he nods to the chair as if I should sit.
“Dex, I don’t have any money,” I whisper to him.
“I got you. You’re just sitting in for me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s insistent. I take the seat.
He stands behind me and gives me instructions as he talks about what to do with each round of betting, and I can smell him this close to me.
It’s more intoxicating than my three cherry vodka drink.
On my first hand, I’m dealt two low cards, and nothing matches. I fold my cards after the first three community cards are dealt per Dex’s instructions.
On my second hand, I have a queen in my hand, and the dealer flips over a queen. I glance up at him and he raises his brows as if to tell me to stay in this time but not to get crazy just yet.
I end up winning the hand with my two queens.
We go again and again, and I’m starting to get the hang of it when I’m dealt a pair of kings.
The dealer turns over a pair of twos in her first three cards.
I glance up at him, and he tells me to raise the bet.
The fourth card is dealt face-up, and it’s a king.
I have a full house.
“Go all in,” he murmurs.
I turn back and look at him with a question in my eyes along with a bit of fear.
The dealer is showing a two of hearts, a two of spades, an ace of spades, a four of spades, and a king. If someone has the three and five of spades, they’d beat me.
I realize the chances of that happening are slim, but this is also why I’m not a gambler. There’s still a chance someone could beat me.
All in is over two thousand dollars. That’s more than my biweekly paychecks were at my dumb old job.
But he’s telling me to do it.
He raises his brows. “What’s it gonna be?”
I shove all my chips toward the dealer. “All in.”
The man two seats away from me also says, “All in.” He looks familiar, but then everybody here does. It’s a charity event made up of local athletes, celebrities, and millionaires—three things Vegas has no shortage of.
He raises his brows and looks at Dex, and it’s clear they know each other. It’s also a clear pissing contest.
“The fuck you doing?” Dex asks him, and I twist around and practically see steam coming out of his ears.
“I’m playing poker. What are you doing?” the man asks him.
“Teaching my girl how to play.”
I preen at his words. He just publicly called me his girl. That has to mean something.
“Your girl?” he scoffs. The man glances at me a little lewdly, and I’m sure I don’t like it.
“Yeah. My fucking girl.”
“Fucking sounds about right when it comes to you,” he mutters.
And that’s it. That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Or Dex’s back.
Before I can even take a breath to figure out what the hell is about to happen, Dex’s hand is balled into a fist, and it connects with the man’s face. The man is up and out of his chair in a second, ready to fight back.
“Dex!” I scream as anxiety pierces me at witnessing actual violence in front of me, and just as the other man is about to throw a punch back, a group of large men seems to appear as if out of nowhere.
One grabs Dex and holds him back while someone else holds the other man back.
Security I hadn’t even noticed comes running through the room, too.
“He threw the first punch,” the dealer says, nodding at Dex.
Oh my God. I’m freaking mortified. Dex punched him because of some rude comment he made about me, about us, when we’re literally nothing more than practical strangers who happen to share a bit of history.
“Come with us, sir,” the security man says to Dex. I’m up and out of my chair, game and apparently the two thousand dollars be damned, and the guy Dex punched starts yelling after us as we’re guided out toward the ballroom exit.
“It’s a charity event, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Dude, what happened?” another guy asks, following us toward the ballroom exit.
“It was nothing,” Dex huffs. He rips his arm away from the security guard, who’s guiding him out by the elbow. “Get your paws the fuck off of me.”
“My brother is going to rip you a new one,” the guy who followed us says.
Why would his brother care?
“Whatever,” Dex mutters.
“I’ll try to smooth it over for you first,” he says.
I’m beyond confused, and I’m not even sure how to ask the questions that are on my mind, but for now, I keep my mouth decidedly shut.
“We’re going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” security says once we’re at the hotel exit.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dex says. “Fuck off.”
“Get out,” one of the burly guys says, and he sort of pushes Dex, who’s already a live wire.
“Dex, come on. Let’s just go,” I say, and I tug his arm, not really sure how to deal with this situation. He lets me pull him out the front doors, and then we’re standing on the sidewalk as we look at the cars still arriving at the event.
It just started. It’s so early yet that people are still arriving. I’d barely even touched my drink. I didn’t even get to the cherries yet.
“Did you want to call Milton and have him send the car?” I ask.
He presses his lips together and stares at me for a beat.
“Do you want me to order an Uber instead?” I ask, trying to figure out what he wants here.
He shakes his head.
I sigh with frustration. “Come on, Dex. Let’s just get out of here. Let’s go home and call it a night.”
He shakes his head again, and I feel way out of my depth here.
I’m not sure how to deal with a dude who just punched another dude.
He doesn’t think before he acts. He’s got a temper, and he doesn’t give a shit about consequences.
He lives his entire life without thinking through the consequences, actually.
Maybe he needs a walk. He needs to cool off. Or…
“Are you thinking of going back in there? We just got kicked out.” I hear the begging in my own voice. I just want to get out of here.
Instead of answering, he grabs my hand. “Come with me.”
He starts walking down the long sidewalk toward Las Vegas Boulevard. Soon we’re in a crush of people also walking along the Strip on a Friday night.
“Who was that guy you slugged?” I finally ask.
“Jensen Bybee. I’ve known him a long time. We played in college together, and we were always battling for a starting position. He’s a defensive end for the San Diego Storm now. We’ve never gotten along.” He shrugs.
“How come? Because of the starting thing?”
“Nah. Because he’s a dick who makes comments like that. And, you know, I slept with his girl once.”
“Dex!” I chide.
He holds his hands up. “I didn’t know who she was when I slept with her.”
“And who was the guy who said his brother would be mad?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Do you watch football?”
I make the face of the awkward emoji with my jaw clenched and a forced, unsmiling face. “Not really.”
“Well, if you’re living with me, you will.”
“How long am I going to be living with you?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Until the kid is eighteen?”
I laugh, but then I get serious when I realize he’s maybe not joking. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Of course. The guy who said his brother would be mad is Asher Nash, a tight end for my team. His brother is our head coach.”
“Ohhh,” I say, drawing out the word as it all seems to come together. “Will you get in trouble?”
“For punching an asshole at a charity event?” I nod, and he shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. Who knows?”
“Don’t you care about the consequences of your actions?”
“A monetary fine was worth hitting that douchebag for what he said.” He presses his lips together with a bit of finality, as if that’s that on that.
We keep walking until we head inside the New York–New York Hotel and Casino.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
I follow him through the casino, and we head up an elevator until we’re standing in line for… “The roller coaster?”
He shrugs. “Life is full of choices and consequences. They’ll be there whether we worry about them or not. Sometimes you just have to let go, say fuck it, and enjoy the ride.”
“By riding a roller coaster?”
“By chasing a thrill. By having some goddamn fun once in a while.” He pays for two tickets, and I guess I’m doing this whether I want to or not.