“What’s on your mind?” Mason asked me. I realized I’d never responded to his observation of Kylie who was still typing away. I probably looked just as intense, with a furrowed brow and angry eyes.
“Nothing,” I lied. Mason didn’t push it.
“You and Beck met in college?” he asked.
I nodded. “Kentucky State. We were roommates freshman and sophomore year. I know there’s a stereotype about shitty dorm roommates in college, but Beck and I hit it off right away. From Welcome Week to the end of sophomore year, we were best friends.” I smiled, wistful at the memories. “We were both from small towns, farming communities in the middle of nowhere. Both worked hard in school to get scholarships, both had dreams of moving to the biggest city we could find. We had so many firsts together, and we kept each other moving. It was horrible when she had to leave.”
Mason smiled. “But you found each other again,” he said.
“Sometimes dreams do come true, even if not in the way you’d expect them to. I thought about Beck all the time back in Gainesville, living with that asshole. When she called asking if she could move in with me, I couldn’t believe we were getting a second chance.”
I watched the honey-blonde hair bounce up ahead as she talked excitedly with Sarah. We really had come a long way since those dorm room days, dreaming of the future.
“How did you meet Sam?” I asked.
“Mac introduced us,” he replied.
“Really?” I asked. I had expected the cool-tempered Sam to have befriended Mason first.
Mason chuckled slightly at the surprise in my voice. “Yeah, sometimes I find it odd as well.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his steely-gray eyes. “I know how Mac comes off, but trust me, there isn’t anyone better in the world to have in your corner. The man would rip out his eyes if it meant his friends would be able to see.”
Somehow I couldn’t picture that at all. Mac seemed more like the type of guy to screw your girlfriend while your back was turned. (Or maybe just your wedding planner.)
“That’s not to say he always makes the right decisions, far from it,” Mason added. “But the man is as loyal as they come.”
I didn’t comment. I didn’t really want to talk about Mac. Every time his name came up, his face and then his dick flashed across my mind. Neither of which I wanted to see.
I changed the subject, talking with Mason about his art and his next exhibition until we parted in the hallway, he and Keegan to their private suites and the girls and myself to our shared unit.
We spent the next couple hours alternating between snacking, lounging, doing hair and makeup, and getting dressed. I wasn’t going fancy — simple jeans and a t-shirt, heels but not so large that I couldn’t walk right. The others were in varying stages of dress — jeans like myself (Beck), a sundress (Sarah), and tight, short club dresses (Kylie and Jules).
“You going somewhere we’re not?” I asked the latter two with a laugh.
Kylie flipped her hair. “We’re going to work,” she said. “Or, at least, I am. Jules already has a man.”
“But I could always use another,” Jules added. “Keegan’s always talking about a threesome. And I’d be down.”
“Yeah,” Kylie snorted. “That’s the kind of threesome that Keegan wants.”
Jules shrugged and walked her long legs over to the mirror to poof her hair and examine her makeup. “Keegan might just have to compromise.”
“Are we ready?” Sarah asked, coming out from the bathroom. “I’m so excited!”
“Just about,” I said. “Beck, have you heard from Sam?”
She came out of her bedroom where she’d been changing and nodded. “Yeah, they’re at the casino. He said they passed a steak place just outside the doors if you want to go there for dinner.”
There was a general agreement and Beck texted Sam to stay put at the tables so we could meet them there.
The casino was a slice of Vegas with a tropical twist. The walls swam with brightly colored fish and strains of ‘lava’ that flowed through the rock designs intersecting the aquariums. The guys were spread out amongst the table games, some playing craps, others blackjack. I saw Mac at the roulette table and, before I could stop myself, found my feet heading toward him.
He leaned against the table, one hand gripping the wood. The corded muscles in his forearm rippled as he flexed his fingers one by one, hooded eyes fixated on the wheel. “Feck,” he muttered as the ball landed somewhere he obviously didn’t want it to go.
“Maybe you should pick a game with a bit more skill,” I said, mirroring his lean against the table.
Mac looked at me and then back behind him at his friends playing their games. Then he cocked an eyebrow and released his grip on the table. “They’re only fooling themselves. There’s just as much skill in the wheel as there are in the dice and cards, especially the way Keegan plays blackjack. At least with roulette there aren’t any pretensions.” He accented his point by placing rainbow-colored chips wildly around the table and turning back to me. “But that being said, I’ll have you know I’m as lucky as a man can get, darling.”
“We must talk about these nicknames,” I said, grimacing.
“In that you can’t get enough of them?”
“In that I’m starting to think you don’t know my real name.”
“Forty-seven black,” the dealer announced. We turned in unison to look at the board just as the dealer scraped away all his chips.
“Not so lucky this time around,” I said.
He shrugged. “I’m always lucky, you know why?”
I shook my head.
“No matter how much I lose, I always win. Because I’ll still be fecking rich.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’ll just throw your money away for no good reason? That sounds responsible.”
“Hey, remember?” he tapped his chest. “No pretensions. This entire week is just as much a waste of money as anything I do here at this table. Just with a prettier bow wrapped around it. So don’t try any moral high ground with me.”
I frowned. “What issue do you have with this wedding?”
“With this particular one?” he asked, pushing more chips out. “I have no issue. None at all.” The complete lack of emotion in his voice made the words ring false. “It’s marriage in general I dislike.”
“Why?”
“It’s a waste of time. It’s a waste of money. It ties you down to one person. It doesn’t last.” He counted off the reasons on his fingers. “Do I need to continue?” he asked, fixing me in his shining green eyes. “Because I can.”
“Then why the hell did you come here?” I asked, annoyed. “Why didn’t you stay in New York? Or are you one of those people who can only get off once they make everyone around them miserable?”
“Nineteen black,” the dealer said.
“Feck,” Mac cursed again. To me, he said, “First off, usually if I’m getting off, everyone involved is having a great time. But if you want an honest answer, it’s because, between you and me, I think Sam’s lost his head. And it’s up to me to be there for him when he wakes up from this ridiculous dream.”