Ace’s Winning Hand (Steel Sinners MC #11)

CHAPTER 1

QUINCY

“I don’t know Margot,” I sigh into the phone as I lay back on my bed. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just feel like,” I pause and really search for the right words because they live somewhere inside me, “I’m missing out on something while I’m chasing something I’m not sure I want anymore.”

“Okay,” Margot Higgins, who was Margot Reynolds when she was America’s sweetheart on the silver screen, holds out the word in a way which tells me she’s considering my words instead of brushing them off.

I’m so tired of people brushing me off. I’m tired of everyone around me who only wants me to keep moving forward. To the next audition. To the next job. To the next event. To the next networking party. To the next place I have to appear because I must be seen.

Because I have to play the game.

Because I have to make the right people happy at the right time.

Because I have to ensure everything stays on brand.

It’s exhausting. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep things going.

“You’ve been working a lot,” her words are measured, like she’s not sure how much to say or how to say it.

“I’ve been working too much. I’m starting to feel like I’m only a bank to everyone around me, to everyone who benefits from being in my orbit. How do I know they really give a shit about me?” I can’t keep the derision out of my voice and I don’t even try.

“You won’t know,” she tells me bluntly. Because Margot has always been the kind of friend to give it to me straight.

“It’s one of the worst things about that town.

You never really know if the people around you, and the people trying to get close to you have good intentions, or if their motives are strictly selfish and they’re only going to use you until they suck you dry. ”

“Well,” I sass her, needing to deflect a little, “you’re not holding back I see.”

“You don’t need me to hold back,” she reminds me, not letting me off the hook.

“You’re surrounded by people who hold back and who are invested in keeping the machine going.

Which means you need to use the machine to get yourself the time you need.

If it’s distance you need, then you might need to book a movie with some travel involved. ”

I make a humming sound, but the thought of working more, of taking another role right now, is exhausting and the process hasn’t even started.

Then I want to slap myself because I sound so ungrateful. This is the life I wanted, it’s the life I’ve been working for, and I’ve been doing it for so long. It wasn’t the life I thought I’d have, but then I was discovered.

It really was a right look, right place, right person situation. That’s all it was. I had the look his studio wanted and was the right age when I was 15. Honestly, I didn’t think it was going to be a big thing. If he wasn’t in my small hometown to visit someone, he wouldn’t have seen me.

I wouldn’t be where I am. It’s almost impossible to imagine where I would be if this life hadn’t aligned.

Margot was one of the first people I met because we were close in age and she was working on the same lot as me. Her story is a long one, but when I met her, she was on the straight and narrow, which wasn’t always the case; child stars can have a certain trajectory.

She took on raising her little sister when she was practically a baby as well. I can’t imagine doing it if I had been in her shoes, but she made it work. I’ve always admired her for it.

Then years ago, she took a role for a movie shooting in Denver. She needed a bodyguard and she got one. And a whole lot more.

Blake Higgins took one look at my friend and knew she was it for him. He didn’t even think twice when it came to Charlotte.

Love stories like theirs don’t happen every day.

Margot got out. She might take a role when she wants, but Hollywood has very little to do with her life. I’ve been thrilled for her, and jealous of what she’s found, even though I would never want it taken from her. She’s simply living a life that rings true to me in a way I continue to ignore.

Because I must.

If I allow it to settle, if I really examine my reality, then I don’t know what I’d do.

I’d probably disappear into the mountains somewhere and never come back.

Then I would become one of those celebrities people say they spot in random places, but it’s never really them.

Because I would make sure the paparazzi couldn’t find me.

Why haven’t I just done it already?

It feels like I can’t, like I’m stuck on a ride and can’t get off because it doesn’t stop long enough to let me even try. And I’m exhausted.

“The thought of booking another role right now, even if it takes me out of LA, sounds draining,” I admit with a sigh. My tone turns thoughtful, “Can you be grateful and beyond exhausted at the same time?”

Margot chuckles, but there’s no real humor in the sound. “Of course,” she agrees readily. “It’s okay to feel like you owe everyone who has gotten you where you are, and still not want to be there. We’re complicated creatures,” her voice is indulgent.

A smile tugs at my lips even though she can’t see me. “Part of me just wants to disappear, to leave this life behind, but it feels like I can’t walk away until I know where I’m going and why.”

“You don’t need to wait,” she insists gently.

“You can just go if it’s what you need to do.

It can be a long break or a short one if you find yourself getting restless.

You’ve been working for years and don’t take nearly enough time off between roles.

” She sighs with an understanding I know she feels deeply, “Then there’s everything that goes along with those roles.

The bigger parts mean bigger press junkets and more time spent promoting. ”

“It’s never ending.” I run my fingers through my hair and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Most of the time, I can’t remember what the point of it all is.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Quincy,” her voice implores me.

“Even if your only purpose is to keep the machine going, which I don’t think it is,” she clarifies, “you can’t keep it going if you don’t have anything else to give.

You won’t be able to act the way you need to.

You won’t be able to promote or network or do any of the things expected of you if you’re emotionally and mentally depleted. ”

“I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that never stops,” I admit.

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “I totally understand what you’re saying.” She pauses for a long moment, but I have a feeling she’s not done. “You might have to jump.”

She just lays the words out there and I suck in a sharp breath; the hiss of it, the way her words land with a barb of truth, is easy for her to hear. But she doesn’t call me on it, she simply lets it be.

“You might get hurt on the way down, but unless an opportunity comes and you can get out of the city for a little while, maybe pulling the e-break and bailing might be the only out you have.” Her voice takes on an edge of determination, “You are always welcome here. There is plenty of room and I would love to have you. You never know, some of the love dust these people have going for them might just rub off on you. I could rustle up a former military man with a heart of gold who mainlines loyalty and big dick energy.”

For the first time in far too fucking long, I laugh. It’s not a fake one; her offer takes me completely off guard. The only thing I can do is laugh.

“You think I’m joking,” amusement fills her words, “but I’m completely serious.”

“I know you are,” I sputter through my laughter, “that’s what makes it so funny.” I take a breath and get my laughter under control. “How would your husband feel about you making deals involving his employees? Because that’s the only place you’d be able to find that type of man.”

“Eh,” I can practically feel her shrug, “he’d be fine with it. He just wants his guys to be happy.”

“I’ll think about it,” I promise with a smile on my face. “More the visit than the big dig energy offer,” I clarify.

“You can come here and stay as long as you like,” she offers again, as if saying it again will make it more of a possibility. I’m not sure it is, but getting away is pure temptation whispered on the wind. “You can also call me anytime. I’m always here for you Quincy, even when I’m far away.”

The sincerity in her voice has tears pricking the backs of my eyes.

I can’t even remember the last time I’ve heard that same type of truth in the voices of people around me, in the voices of people who have access to me daily.

She’s hundreds of miles away from me and I can feel how deeply she feels her words.

But the people in my life treat me like a commodity.

“Thank you, Margot,” I whisper before changing the subject far too quickly for it to not be conspicuous. “Tell me about the kiddos.”

And she does. I listen to her, the highs and the lows, her words taking on a cadence of happiness and peace wrapped up in chaos. Her life is one worth living. After we say goodbye and hang up, I wonder if mine is as well. Or if I’m living a life that’s even mine to begin with.

I close my eyes for a moment, just a moment, but my phone starts ringing before I can find my center.

My voice is weak as I answer, not even looking at who is calling me since my eyes stay closed, “Hello?”

“Quincy,” the booming voice of my manager, Kenneth, comes through the line. I can tell, just by the way he says my name, he wants something. Well, he wants me to say yes to something.

My agent brings me things for my career; my manager brings me things for my brand, my name. Both are exhausting.

“I just got off the phone and the first person I thought of for this amazing opportunity was you,” his voice is full Hollywood, which means it’s more than a little sleazy with a side of slimeball. But he’s good at what he does.

Even if he wouldn’t mind running me into the ground for his percentage of me.

Hating myself just a little bit, I force the words past my lips, “What kind of opportunity?”

“I think you’ll really enjoy this one,” he says it like he’s being magnanimous or might care even a little bit. I know he doesn’t. He’s out to make money and the only way it happens is if he makes sure I stay relevant.

The sigh I let out is world weary, at best. “What’s the gig?”

“Well,” he holds the word out like he’s a magician getting the misdirect working for him, “it’s not really a gig, but it’s a great opportunity to network and keep you out in front of people.”

“I just got back from a press junket a week ago,” I try and keep the snark out of my voice, but it creeps in, “it’s not like I’ve faded into the background of people’s minds.”

“Still, you want to stay in the spotlight,” he says it like it’s obvious.

To him, I’m sure it is. To me? I’m not quite so sure.

“Anyway,” he says dismissively like my concerns or complaints don’t matter, “there’s a celebrity poker tournament in Las Vegas and there are a few spots left. I thought of you first.”

The last part is probably a lie. Who knows how many people he’s called before me, but that’s not really the point. He can paint it however he wants, it doesn’t change the end result.

“What if I don’t know how to play?”

I ask the question even though I do know how to play. Dad always loved playing cards and mom indulged him. Card games, including poker, were common. My brother thought he was a card shark at one point and refused to play anything except for Texas hold ’em.

But Kenneth doesn’t know that.

“It’s not complicated,” he tells me with a scoff, “I’m sure you could learn. It’s not like you need to win the tournament. That’s not the point. The point is to be seen and to get more airtime since the tournament is going to be televised,” he adds on, “at least part of it.”

I want to say no. I want to tell him to stop bringing me things like this. But then I remember Margot urging me to get out of town for a little while. It might only be a few days, but my entire body is yearning for me to leave LA.

Maybe Las Vegas is exactly where I need to go.

“You’ll, of course,” he adds on like it’s not the most important part of this transaction, “get an appearance fee and any winnings will be donated to charity.”

His words make no difference to me. I’ve already made my decision anyway.

“I’ll do the tournament,” I tell him.

Kenneth sucks in a breath on the other end of the line like he wasn’t expecting me to agree so easily. He was probably already gearing up to come up with other things he needed to say to try and convince me. But it’s not necessary.

I’m more than willing to go to Vegas. I’d do just about anything to get out of LA. I won’t be going far, but I hope it’s far enough.