2. Meri
CHAPTER 2
MERI
Shit, he looks sexy in a tux.
“Can I get another Bud Light?”
I smile at Vince, one of the regulars at the bar, as I reach into the cooler and grab him his third bottle of the night. The second I set it in front of him, he lifts it to his lips and takes a long pull.
“I’ll put it on your tab,” I tell him with a smirk.
“You’re a doll.”
Rolling my eyes, I wipe down the bar, collecting recently left tips as I go. Tuesdays are notoriously slow, which is part of the reason I chose it for my other job. It’s only a little after six, and I’ve got an hour to go before I can go home and change, but the game won’t start until nine.
Plenty of time to mentally switch gears.
I picture the dress I set out before leaving for my shift, knowing I picked it because tonight a certain someone RSVP’d to my invitation to join the poker game I host. The emerald green satin flatters my curves, has an impossibly high slit up the leg, and a deep V that dips between my breasts to my belly button.
When I received the RSVP text on my burner, I almost swallowed my tongue. Poker comes to the games a lot, but this is the first time he’s included the plus one I allow each player.
It’s been two years since I started my side-venture of hosting high-stakes poker games. In the beginning, I would let pretty much anyone who could afford the ten-thousand dollar buy-in participate. That’s no longer the case, and I’m much more selective. Only those who receive an invitation and RSVP can join, and I have enough players that they don’t all get invited to every game. The dress code is black-tie, which I enforce, but typically, no one balks at that because they’re all rich as fuck assholes.
I do allow a plus-one, but the additional guest is not permitted to play the game. All participants must surrender their cell phones and any other electronics or weapons at the door, or they’re not permitted entry.
The only person who knows about any of this, outside of my thoroughly vetted security and the players, is Poker. And he’s the only person who has ever gotten a pass on my rules.
But tonight, because I sent an official invite, he’s required to abide by the same protocols as everyone else.
And he’s bringing a plus one.
“Earth to Meri!”
I whirl around, startled by Grady shouting my name. “Fuck, you scared me,” I accuse.
“Sorry, but your shift was over ten minutes ago,” my boss says with a smirk.
“Shit,” I mutter, tossing my rag into the sink. After clocking out on the computer, I grin at Grady. “I’m out. See ya Thursday.”
I always take Wednesdays off because I never know when the poker games will end, having learned that the hard way the first time it lasted until six in the fucking morning.
“Have a good night,” he says to my back as I move through the doors that lead to the break room.
Twenty minutes later, I’m climbing into the shower to wash the bar stink off me. It didn’t take long for me to make enough money to catch up on my rent and buy myself out of my lease, and a few months later, I was able to buy my current house.
It’s nothing special on the outside, just a brick ranch house with a few acres of property. The inside wasn’t anything to write home about either, but I’ve had a lot of renovations done, and everything is perfectly me.
After drying my hair and doing my makeup, I slip into my dress and glance at myself in the full-length mirror. I’ve never considered myself vain, but damn, I look good. Better than good.
As I make my way into the two-car garage, I grab my Sig Sauer P365 and secure it in the holster at my thigh, completing my transition from Meri to Mistress Green. I might make the players forfeit their weapons, but I’m not about to be a sitting duck.
Climbing into my nori green pearl Lexus LC 500 convertible, I smile when I remember how I came up with my alter ego. It wasn’t hard. Hell, it’s probably too juvenile for the air of sophistication I wanted to portray, but I chose Mistress Green because green is the color of money.
And shit, do I have a lot of it now.
It takes less than ten minutes to arrive at the warehouse, and when I pull into the lot, I spot my head of security standing by the door. Conrad is ex-military, built like a tank, and as loyal as they come. He’s been with me for a year and a half now, and I couldn’t ask for someone better to have my back.
“Hey, Meri,” he says with a smile when I reach him. He and my team are the only ones who get to use my real name here. “Already have four players inside and waiting on three more.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Anything I need to know?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Tonight seems to be a pretty tame crowd.” He shrugs. “Unless you count the way Mr. Neero was groping his wife while I was checking their IDs.”
“At least it’s Mrs. Neero and not his mistress again,” I say with a chuckle. “That bitch is dumb as a box of rocks.”
Conrad throws his head back and laughs. “Remember when she asked Mr. Neero why he was collecting twos when they’re the lowest amount of points?” He guffaws. “Holy shit, the look on the man’s face was priceless. I thought he was gonna kill her right then and there.”
“Poor guy. He was trying so hard to bluff so the others would fold. He was a hundred grand in on that hand and had to quit after that.”
“I wonder how he explained it to the missus?” he asks.
I lift my hands. “Don’t know, don’t care. What happens outside of the games has nothing to do with me.”
He nods before his eyes dart to the entrance of the lot where headlights signal another arrival. “Well, better get back to it. Solomon, Grant, and Malcolm are inside.”
“Thanks,” I say when he opens the door for me. “See ya after.”
Conrad winks. If he weren’t happily married with two kids, and I weren’t crushing on someone else, I’d totally shoot my shot with him.
When I step into the main area of the warehouse, I grin at the sight. What started as a dirty concrete space has been converted into a sleek space that reeks of money and power.
“Mistress Green, good evening.”
I roll my eyes before pasting a smile on my lips and facing Ms. Graven. “Good evening, Bernadette. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Well, someone has to give these gents a run for their money.”
Bernadette Graven is middle-age, stunningly beautiful, and as corrupt as they come. Fortunately, she doesn’t live in or anywhere near Marble Falls. She’s one of the numerous players who only join the game when they’re in Texas on business.
“Yes, they do,” I agree. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with my team.”
Before she can respond, I hurry toward the self-serving bar where Grant is stationed.
“Lucky you,” he jests. “She was the first to arrive and cornered me for twenty minutes.”
My lips twitch. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Grant says with a chuckle. “But that’s okay. Now I’m real knowledgeable about the movers and shakers of Atlanta.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Isn’t participating in my game enough to prove she’s right?”
“Guess not.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the entrance opening catches my attention. Sliding my glance that way, my throat goes dry.
Poker crosses the threshold, and a slim arm is threaded through his, but I can’t see the owner of the offending appendage as they’re tucked behind him to enter.
Shit, he looks sexy in a tux.
As the pair fully walk into the space, jealousy winds through me as my gaze travels from his plus one’s stilettos, up her gorgeous legs, and then higher to her tight black spaghetti strap dress. And when my eyes land on her face, my heart stops.
Why the fuck would he bring a cop here?