Conceal

But I survived, virtually unscathed.

When I walked into Cyrus Reed’s house, or should I say compound, he and his staff made it very clear that this was a private affair. They even took our phones, telling the waitstaff that some patrons were very important people. No pictures. No comments. No interacting at all. Other than to grab drinks.

It annoyed the other girl, the no-phone rule, but relief crashed through me. For the first time in a month, I could let out my breath. This job might not have been ideal, but at least I didn’t have to hide my appearance to feel safe.

I push the door open, and as soon as I step in, I hear her voice.

“So . . .” Maggie trails off. “How was it?”

I’m surprised to see her awake. But there she is, lying on the couch, looking like she’s knocking on death’s door.

“Fine,” I respond, stepping farther into the room and dropping my coat on the chair. My heels click as I walk to the couch and throw myself dramatically down onto it. “Exhausting.” I smile. “How are you feeling?” I lean forward, placing my elbows on my thighs. She looks beat. She rubs her eyes, and I know I woke her when I entered the apartment.

“A little better,” she mutters, but it’s obvious she’s lying. I’m surprised her nose isn’t growing at this point. Pinocchio will be jealous.

“Is there something I can get you?” I suck in my cheeks because I know how bad it is to be sick, and I hate that she is. Maggie has done so much for me, and I want to help her.

“You already did enough.” She coughs, and I reach forward to grab her water and hand it to her.

“Here. And no. Not when you consider everything you’ve done for me.” The least I can do at this point is make her life easier. Lord knows, me being here, living on her couch, has to be a burden.

“That’s nothing.”

“You’ve done so much for me. Let me help you.”

She nods, takes the water from me, and then swallows with a grimace. Once she’s done, she places it down, turning her head back to me with a small smile.

“What was it like being around all that money? I heard the buy-in was a hundred grand.”

When Maggie and I were friends in elementary school, we were too young to know about money, so she probably doesn’t realize I’m from money. I don’t correct her, though. I laugh. Even I have to admit that that buy-in is absurd.

For rich boys with too much money, Cyrus Reed’s home was the Devil’s playground.

“It was crazy,” I say dramatically. “The stacks of chips. Lord, it was unlike anything I have ever seen before. Insane. Truly.”

“Did you make any tips?”

“I did.” It wasn’t until after everyone had left that I realized how much money I made. Had I known earlier, I would have paid Jaxson Price back, but now I’m indebted to him. Sometime this week, I’ll send him cash. I can’t write checks, that much is for sure.

“Did you love it so much that you want to do it again?”

“Maybe.” I shrug, and her face falls at my words. “If you need me, I will for sure. But I have a few other things I’m looking into.”

“You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

Maggie is too good to me. She doesn’t ask or pry. She knows what I’m not saying without me even having to tell her. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. I don’t want her to rely on me because if I have to move fast, I will.

A gazelle will always run when a lion approaches.

Hopefully, that won’t be the case.

Hopefully, I’ll have enough time to put a solid plan together before I go back to where I came from. But as of right now, I have nothing—no plan and no place to be—but I still can’t make false promises.

“How about for now, if you need extra help, you ask? If I’m around, it would be my pleasure.”

To that, she smiles, and I stand and so does she. Because technically, since I’m home now, she’s sleeping in my bedroom, the pullout couch in the living room.

Maybe I should take her up on the offer. If I do, I could probably make enough money that I can spend the little I have on a hotel, so I don’t have to put her out anymore.

Hotels need identification and a credit card to book a room.

I have neither.

The couch it is.

I let out a large yawn, and she walks to her room. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime.”

As soon as she leaves, I pull the couch bed out and then walk over to my duffel to grab my PJs. I might have been here for weeks so far, but I’m still living out of a duffel.