A symphony of ringing bells, cheers, and laughter hit me all at once, combining with a cloud of cigarette smoke that I squinted my eyes against as a man standing at the front door took my ID. It was the fake Tammy had purchased for me as a joke, and I’d never used it — never needed to — but it seemed to be legit enough to work because the man handed it back to me without so much as a second glance, taking a look at Emery’s next.
I didn’t even have time to be nervous about him checking it before it was back in my hand, and I slid it into my back pocket with wide eyes still looking around me. It was the first time I’d ever been in a casino and I scanned the bright lights of the machines, the crowds gathered around the tables in the back, the man’s voice announcing over the intercom that someone had won fifteen-thousand dollars with their player’s card.
“My parents drink,” I answered when Emery was beside me again.
His brows furrowed as we walked the outer aisle toward the bar, my eyes still bouncing off the various machines. “And so you don’t.”
“Exactly.”
He nodded, and though I hadn’t told him anything, he seemed to understand everything I didn’t want to say.
Emery ordered a Tom Collins at the bar, making sure he got me a water with it, before leading us right into the middle of the slot machines.
“Okay, pick your poison,” he said, eyeing the machines as we walked.
I laughed. “I don’t really gamble, either.”
“Not for you,” he said quickly. “For me. Pick a machine.”
I chewed my lip, nose scrunched as I surveyed the options. I spotted a vacant one a few rows away with a big screen above it, all with boxes wrapped like birthday presents. There were streamers and party poppers and cartoon people dancing all over the screen, and I pointed to it with a shrug.
“That one looks fun.”
He followed my finger until he found the machine I’d pointed out, then he nodded, guiding us toward it and pulling over a spare barstool so I could sit beside him. Emery slipped in a twenty-dollar bill and the machine sprang to life, a loud, goofy voice yelling out a welcome to us.
He pushed the button for max bet, eyes on the spinning lines of the screen. “You don’t get along with your parents,” he said, and the machine dinged with a prize half of what he’d bet. He hit the button again.
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “They’re not really parents, honestly. More like roommates.”
“Were they pissed that you left?”
A dry laugh left my lips. “They didn’t even notice.”
He looked at me for a long moment, but I kept my eyes on the screen, watching as he won three dollars thanks to a line of party streamers. He tapped the button again, watching the screen with me.
“What about you,” I asked. “Are you close with your parents?”
“No,” he answered easily. “Not because they’re bad people. They’re actually pretty perfect,” he admitted, like he hated that fact. “But I’m not really close with anyone.”
“By choice or circumstance?”
“Both.” The machine punctuated his sentence with a sad horn. He lost that bet. “I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with.”
“So, there’s no one you’re close with, then?”
“Not anymore.”
I waited for him to continue, to tell me what not anymore meant, but he just sipped on his drink, finger tapping at the max bet button again.
“That mean there used to be someone you were close with?”
Emery paused, eyes flicking over to mine before adjusting back on the screen. “My Grams.”
I nodded, heart in my throat as the first page of his journal flashed in my memory, along with our conversation earlier in the car.
“What was she like?”
He smiled a little, even though the twenty he’d put in the machine was now down to six dollars and seventy-two cents. “She was quiet, and kind. She listened a lot, not just to people but to the world around her.” He looked at me then. “You remind me of her.”
“I do?”
Emery nodded. “This is it, last bet.” He jerked his head toward the machine. “I think you should take the last spin.”
He was changing the subject, and I let him, closing my eyes and sticking my tongue out as I popped the plastic button with a flat palm. “Big money, no whammies!” I yelled.
Emery bit back a smile, curious eyes watching me instead of the machine.
I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
The lines lit up and the screen cleared, all of a sudden filled with rows of tiny presents like I’d seen before we sat down.
“Holy shit,” Emery laughed the curse. “You got the bonus.”
“I did?!”
“Pick a box.”
I bounced in my seat, picking box after box, some of them doubling our prize or sending us into a new level of the bonus. Each time I picked a box that wasn’t a dud we screamed, drawing a small crowd, all of them laughing and rooting us on. By the time it ended, the last three dollars we’d bet climbed up to five-hundred and twenty-two, and a few whistles rang out over the applause as the machine counted up our winnings.
“I can’t believe that just happened!” I squealed, fingers twirling the ends of my hair over my shoulder.
Emery hit the print ticket button and stood, laughing.
“You really were lucky, like a penny heads up on the highway,” he said. I cranked my neck to look up at him, the sharp edges of his jaw and cheek bones highlighted with shadows in the casino light. He looked a little intimidating.
He looked a little beautiful.
“Maybe I should call you Copper.”
I grimaced. “Please, don’t.”
“Too late.”
And then he laughed, and I did, too, and the stranger with the car didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.
I woke to the gentle sound of my alarm the next morning, and my eyes shot open, hands scrambling for the device to shut it off before it woke Emery. When the room was silent again, I snuck a glance in his direction.
He was still just a rumple of body under the big comforter, the sides of it pulled free from where it had been tucked under the bed. One foot stuck out and hung over the side of the bed, and his hair peeked out from the opposite end, the only proof there was a human there at all.
Inhaling a deep breath and letting it go softly, I scrubbed a hand over my face, eyes focusing on the intricate designs that covered the all-white ceiling above. Kalo huffed next to me, laying her head on my hip, and I rubbed behind her ears until she was asleep again, my mind waking up slowly.
Last night had been fun, and the entire concept of road tripping across the country with someone I didn’t know felt a little less insane now that the sun had risen on a new day, but I still wondered where the day would lead, where the trip would take us. I glanced over at Emery again, my gaze falling on where his journal lay face down on the bedside table, the pages flattened against the wood to mark where he’d been writing the night before. I’d pretended to fall asleep quickly, all the while listening to his scribbles over the page, wondering what it was he could be writing.
You’re not reading his journal, I chastised myself, taking another deep inhale before reaching under the covers for my prosthesis. I never slept with it on, but I also didn’t want to take it off in front of Emery… not yet. So, I’d waited until he clicked his light off, until his breathing intensified to a soft snore, and then I’d carefully removed it, tucking it under the sheets with me.