Odds and Evens

[st_clare]

The tiny white ball on the roulette wheel bounced as it spun, and the small crowd around the table held their collective breath as it gradually slowed down. Stacks of chips had been placed on green felt, waiting to either be lost to the house or scooped back into the possession of their bettors. In Las Vegas, the casino business was booming.

Julianna had been telling Devin the truth. She didn't usually gamble, and she didn't really approve of the people who frequented such establishments. But she was so frustrated after the incident with Holiday that she'd purposely bought a few hundred dollars worth of chips to spend an evening at the tables. A gimlet sat near her left hand. She was not drunk, just slightly tipsy.

"Black 24. Black 24. The house wins."

The Watcher sampled her drink, watched the croupier collect the bets that had been placed as a mutter rose above the table. She should quit while she hadn't lost much, cut her losses. Not just with money, but with people as well. If the girl was determined to destroy herself, she couldn't stop her. She had quite enough guilt on her conscience, and Gregory's memory aside she didn't owe Holiday anything.

"Place your bets, please, the next spin is coming up."

Julianna placed some chips on Red 18, looked around for a server to get a refill. There were no bloody clocks in this place, and she'd left her watch on her bedside table. Never mind the time. She could leave once she'd lost the last of her chips.

Comments

[st_clare]

She saw the way his gaze darted to the right, chalked it up to the sudden close proximity. The casino wasn't as crowded as a nightclub would have been, but there were enough other bodies around for it to be noticeable. She had the same spatial awareness, even though her senses weren't as enhanced as a Slayer's.

"If I was patronizing you, you'd know it," the Watcher said, but she was smiling just a bit. They really must pour their drinks strong here. "I'd probably smirk more."

The betting at the table had resumed, and Julianna toyed with a chip while she considered another drink. No, she should stop. She didn't want to get sloppy. Tipsy was fine, drunk was not.

"Personal risk can be quite thrilling," she said thoughtfully. "Provided that you're talking about...well, the physical. Physicality."

[daniel_stacy]

‘Physicality’.

That jerked him back to the moment. Daniel schooled his face to stay pointed at the game, but his eyes shifted. Huh. Was Silver implying she approved of – possibly even led – a risqué’ sex life? It would explain why she broached the topic of oily gigolos. Another thing he picked up in comm class: when a woman fidgeted with an object like a wine glass or a piece of jewelry, there was a good chance her mind was in the gutter.

Well, damn. That’ll teach me not to judge a dirty book by its conservative cover.

The cross kept catching the light as the other gambler leaned forward to place her chips on the felt. Daniel rubbed his cheek and sat forward. Fingertips drummed on the table, one-two-three-one-two-three, as he resisted the urge to break the chain and fling the pendant across the room. Out of sight, out of mind.

He ought to get out of there. Grab his chips, cash out, and rustle up food.

“I’m starving, I think I’m gonna get out of here.”

[st_clare]

Had she shocked him? Delightful. The young always misjudged the old. She was proud of still being a sexual creature, and the years had done little to dull her urges.

"Yes, they don't seem to serve food here, just alcohol," Julianna said. "I should imagine that liquor is what fuels people to stay at the tables until their pockets are empty. I'll have to leave soon enough if this losing streak continues."

The wheel spun, and she forced herself to stop unstacking and re-stacking her chips. Devin was still in the 'maybe' column, and she wanted to see where that led rather than try to pick up someone because she was mildly aroused. On the other hand, it was her last night here.

Hmm.

"I'm going to retire to my room after this spin. Order a late dinner. Leave before I lose my shirt, as they say. Besides, I have a phone call to make."

[daniel_stacy]

His fingers tapped on.

Should he offer to walk the lady to her room and go for a bite at the door? If he muffled her mouth and kept her away from fragile table lamps, there was a good chance nobody would hear the struggle; Daniel would bet money her neighbors were either out living it up or curled in fetal position next to the toilet, wasted beyond caring. The biggest danger was the potential for surveillance cameras on the casino floor, in the lobby, and perched at the ends of hallways. Match his face to the name on his credit card and Daniel was up shit creek in a leaky boat.

Man. He needed to start stealing.

“What’s your name?” he asked, still weighing the pros and cons of taking a chunk out of her neck. “I’m Daniel.” He extended his hand.

[st_clare]

Daniel. A good Biblical name. Julianna finished her drink, having promised herself it would be her last, considered his hand. She'd have said that her earlier remark hadn't necessarily been an invitation, but she didn't believe in playing coy. Besides, she was simply weighing her options.

"Julianna," she said, reaching out and allowing her smaller hand to interlock with his. His palm was cool against hers. The Watcher frowned. Poor circulation? Her eyebrows arched. Certainly not...

"Julianna St. Clare."

[daniel_stacy]

Julianna… Julianna…

Where had he heard that name? Daniel put a finger to his mouth. “Wait a second.” If he couldn’t make this connection, it was gonna kill him all night. It was recent, too. Television? It hadn’t been a book, that much was for sure. He heard a feminine voice in his head. ‘You know about slayers? Julianna won’t tell me anything..’

She was British. She was British…

“No shit!”

He slapped her on the upper arm and kept pumping the other hand.

“We’ve got somebody in common! You know Holly, right?”

[st_clare]

Wait a bloody minute...

The cheerful smack to her bicep felt just a touch too strong, but it might have been the alcohol. Julianna's expression displayed her confusion, but she didn't remove her hand from Daniel's. If she was wrong and caused a scene, she'd be embarrassed. Perhaps he had some sort of condition.

But if she was right...

"If you're speaking of Holiday, yes, we're acquainted," she said, and she could feel her expression wanting to sour but controlled herself. The girl was just angry. Angry and rude. And taking things out on her.

"She's mentioned me, I take it?" What was the girl playing at?

[daniel_stacy]

Holly was short for Holiday. “Heh…” He started to grin. It was cute. She hadn’t told him that. He ended the handshake and said, “Uh, yeah. She mentioned you knew her dad, right?” Daniel unhooked his feet from the stool rungs and resettled himself. There hadn’t been any vitriol in Holly’s conversation about the woman, so he carried on clueless as to the tension between them and stretched to put his chips in his pocket.

Knew the dad… wouldn’t tell her anything… about what?

He stuck his tongue between his back teeth and tried to call up the specifics of the conversation. They had been sitting side by side on the carpet in Holly's hotel room. About the way the man died? No, about slayers. Julianna worked with Holly’s dad, a watcher who worked with slayers to stake vampires.

Ah crap. He winced, a hand remaining in his pocket as the revelation happened. He probably looked like a tourist who realized he had forgotten his car keys.

[st_clare]

"Gregory and I were very good friends."

All right, so that was an exaggeration, but Julianna was watching Daniel now, gauging his reaction with the suspicion of the longtime Watcher. What was Holiday doing with him, this young man with the cold hands?

And good God, she'd briefly entertained the notion of inviting him upstairs to bed him.

"I take it you haven't known one another long?" she inquired, her expression oddly placid considering her current thought process. "Holiday's only been in America for a short time. Where did you meet?"

[daniel_stacy]

There it was again. Holiday. Daniel bet people sang Madonna to her all the time.

“Couple of weeks?” he guessed. “We met on the street, just walking around. Sometimes we hang out.” Now he was understating things. Well, he thought, what was he supposed to say, that the charming daughter of Julianna’s old vamp-killing buddy had stripped off her clothes for a dead guy and rocked his world? “Nice girl,” he added for good measure, and, “Small world. Well, any friend of Holiday’s is a friend of mine. That’s uh… that’s what I say.”

She probably carries a vial of holy water in her giant pocketbook. That’s what I need, a face full of disfiguring Jesus juice.