The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

Fuck yeah. Vegas just got a lot more fun now that Sophie the Girl Scout needs to earn herself some hella cool badges.

Friday, March 23rd

Sophie

“If I go all in, does that mean I’m putting all my chips on the line?” I ask, my voice filled with the kind of innocence and naïveté to make the five men at this Texas Hold’em table inside the Venetian’s poker room practically lick their chops.

“Yeah, honey,” a guy with a black moustache, a bald head, and a thick Boston accent answers. “All in means you’re wagering all your money on the hand.”

“Oh, okay.” I nod and stare down at the stack of chips—worth twenty freaking thousand dollars—that Jude handed me before he went to his meeting.

Honestly, I about passed out when he put the clear plexiglass holder in my hands and said, “Have some fun, babe.”

Apparently, when Vegas nightclub investors are trying to schmooze you, they pull out all the stops. Which includes an insanely large amount of free casino money to gamble with.

I tried to tell Jude no way, but he was persistent in convincing me it was okay to use the chips for whatever gambling desires I had.

“Babe, if we don’t use it, they’re going to give it to the next person they’re trying to get something out of it,” he’d said. “Trust me, the purpose of it is to spend it. Go play the tables or the slots. Just have fun and remember, it’s not your money or my money that you’re putting on the line. It’s the casino’s.”

Somehow, those words of his had given me permission enough to bring all these chips to the poker room without feeling the least bit guilty.

I’m not a huge fan of gambling, but I love playing poker. The game of Texas Hold’em was instilled at a young age because my dad taught my sisters and me how to play. And although Belle and Katelynn pretty much hated it, it became my dad’s and my thing.

I can remember a lot of nights watching World Poker Tour events on television with him and listening to him analyze each player’s moves. There’s no doubt that Anthony Sage knows himself some poker, and frankly, if he were sitting here at this table, he’d run all five of these men right out of money.

Me, on the other hand, I still consider myself novice enough that I have to use other techniques to get an advantage. Acting completely clueless being one of them.

The dealer deals the next round of cards, and I make a show of acting a little confused before folding my fifth hand since I sat down.

While the game continues, I pull my phone out of my purse and check my messages.

Belle appears busy enough with work that she’s not nagging me about not agreeing to meet her for lunch today. And things appear to be running smoothly for Julie.

So far, so good.

Of course, I can’t stop myself from sending a text message to the one person who has been on my mind since I sat down at this table. My dad.

Me: You’ll never believe what I’m doing right now. But when I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Mom or Katelynn or Belle where I am.

Besides being a fantastic father, he’s also the best damn secret vault of anyone I know. If you tell Anthony Sage something that you don’t want anyone to know about, he’ll take that secret to the grave.

Truthfully, it’s probably one of the reasons why I’ve always been closer with our dad and Belle has always been closer with our mom.

My mom is sweet as pie, but she handles things a lot like Belle—by getting all up in your personal space until you break. My dad, on the other hand, takes a subtler approach and just lets you know you can come to him about anything but doesn’t pry.

Katelynn always manages to land somewhere in the middle. Half like our mom and half like our dad.

Pops: You know I’ve got tight lips, Soph. Not even the Feds could break me.

I laugh. Truth is, I was probably going to tell him anyway—I feel the urge too strongly. But I really love his earnest effort to convince me.

Me: I’m in the Venetian’s Poker Room playing Texas Hold’em.

Pops: Tell me my daughter is running the table, and I’ll be a happy guy.

I grin.

Me: I just sat down, but that’s the plan.

Pops: You using the sweet and innocent act?

Me: Oh yeah.

Pops: That’s my girl.

Me: Love you, Dad.

Pops: Love you too, Soph. Call me sometime soon, yeah? Maybe even come out to Miami and see your mom and me. I’ll make sure she makes the good fajitas. The ones with the steak from San Pedro’s.

Me: I’m hoping to get out to Miami in April or May, but the promise of fajitas smells like April.