A Chance At The Table

He turned. She had taken the empty seat at the roulette table, placing a small purse between her elbow and the rail. She looked close to his age, perhaps a year or two younger, with pale blond hair cut just below her chin and a black dress that was elegant without trying to be. Her eyes stayed on the wheel.

“Then Vegas and I have a complicated relationship,” Brad said.

“That makes two of us.”

The dealer spun again. Brad watched the ball circle, his attention divided between the wheel and the woman’s reflection in the polished brass rim.

“First night?” she asked.

“Second. Short trip.”

“With your wife?”

He looked toward Becca. She was still at blackjack, now studying the dealer’s upturned card.

“Yes.”

The woman nodded as though he had answered a question she had not quite asked. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”

“Then we’re both behaving.”

She smiled. “That depends on what you call behaving.”

The ball struck a pocket. The dealer announced the number. Brad had missed it by one.

He glanced at the woman. “You playing?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for a number.”

“Lucky number?”

“Maybe. My husband used to say numbers weren’t lucky. They were just numbers.”

Brad looked at her then.

She picked up a stack of chips and arranged them carefully. “He died two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Her voice remained light, but one finger pressed hard against the edge of a chip. “His name was Richard. I still catch myself thinking I should ask him what he thinks before I remember.”

Brad did not know what to say to that. He had spent twenty-seven years assuming Becca would always be beside him in the next room, at the next table, in the next argument. The idea of a familiar absence made the casino seem briefly less noisy.

“I’m Brad,” he said.

“Barbara.”

“Barbara.”

“Everyone calls me Barbie.”

“Barbie,” he repeated, and something about the name made her smile.

The dealer called for bets. Brad placed a chip on red, then another on 17. Barbie put a chip on 23.

“Why 23?” he asked.

“It was Richard’s birthday.”

The wheel turned. The ball skimmed the rim, bounced once, and settled into 23.

Barbie laughed, a quick bright sound. “There you are.”

The dealer pushed her winnings toward her. She reached across Brad to gather them, and as she did, her hand slipped beneath the table. Her fingers closed around his leg just above the knee.

The squeeze was firm enough to be unmistakable.

Brad went still.

She withdrew her hand almost immediately, returning it to her chips as if nothing had happened. Her gaze remained on the wheel. Brad looked toward Becca. She had just doubled down, her shoulders raised in a posture he recognized as determined irritation.

He could have stood. He could have said something. Instead, he placed another chip on 23.

The wheel spun. The ball bounced through red, black, and green before landing on 8.

“Not tonight,” Barbie said.

Brad felt the place where her hand had been as clearly as if she had left a mark.

“Your boyfriend know you’re playing his money?” he asked.

“Dave knows I’m playing my money.”

“Good distinction.”

“Very important.”

Dave appeared near the aisle a few minutes later, carrying two drinks. He was broad-shouldered, gray-haired, and dressed in a golf shirt that looked as though it had cost more than Brad’s jacket. Barbie turned toward him, and her expression changed - not dramatically, but enough for Brad to notice. The warmth remained, though some private door closed.

“This is Dave,” she said.

Dave offered Brad a drink. “You want one?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been fine for forty years,” Barbie said.

Dave laughed, apparently taking it as a joke. He set her drink beside her chips. “I’m going to check on the poker room. Becca?”

“Blackjack,” Barbie said.

“That’s right. I’ll be back.”

He touched Barbie’s shoulder before leaving. Brad watched him disappear into the crowd.

“You two have been together long?” Brad asked.

“Almost a year.”

“And you brought him to Vegas.”

“He brought me.” She looked at Brad. “Is Becca having fun?”

“She says she is.”

“That means she isn’t?”

“It means she’s waiting for the cards to apologize.”

Barbie laughed again. The wheel spun, and Brad’s number came up. He collected his winnings, suddenly aware of the narrow space between their chairs.

“Your turn,” he said.

She placed a chip on 14. “You choose.”

“Red.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of losing to black.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

The ball circled. Barbie leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his. “You always this careful?”

Brad watched the ball pass the same pockets again and again. “Usually.”

“Usually isn’t always.”

The ball dropped on red 14.

Barbie reached for her winnings, but this time her hand came to rest on Brad’s leg and stayed there. Her palm was warm through his trousers. He could feel the pressure of each finger.

He did not move.

The decision was so small that it frightened him. No one across the casino saw it. No alarm sounded. Becca did not turn around. The dealer continued calling bets, and the machines kept singing. Yet Brad knew that by remaining still, he had answered her.

Barbie looked at him. “You’re not very talkative for a man who chose the number.”

“I’m better with numbers.”

“Are you?”

“Sometimes.”

“What do you do?”

He told her. He gave her his full name, then mentioned his website, the one he had built for his work and maintained mostly out of habit. Barbie listened with her hand still on his leg, asking questions that were just personal enough to make him wonder why she wanted the answers.

When she finally lifted her hand, the cool air felt like a reprimand.

Brad placed a chip on 14 again. “That was a mistake.”

“Betting twice?”

“Giving you my website.”

She smiled. “You think I’m going to investigate you?”

“I think people investigate everyone now.”

“Maybe I’m curious.”

“Curiosity causes trouble.”

“So does boredom.”

Across the room, Becca rose from the blackjack table. She gathered her purse and scanned the casino. Brad saw her before Barbie did, and the sight of her brought a familiar steadiness with it: Becca’s short dark hair, her silver bracelet, the slight tilt of her head when she was looking for him.

He should have stood immediately.

Instead, Barbie’s hand moved once more, lower this time, brushing the outside of his thigh. Brad covered it with his own.

Her eyes lifted to his.

For one suspended moment, the casino fell away - not silent, but narrowed to the wheel, the warmth beneath his palm, and the uncomfortable knowledge that he liked being wanted by someone who did not know the ordinary version of him.

Then Dave returned.

Barbie withdrew her hand. Brad removed his as well, but not quickly enough to pretend nothing had happened.

“There you are,” Dave said. “Ready to go?”

“In a minute.”

Becca had reached the edge of the roulette table. Her gaze moved from Brad to Barbie, then to Dave.

“Becca,” Brad said, standing. “This is Barbie. And Dave.”

“Nice to meet you,” Becca said.

Barbie rose too, smoothing her dress. “Nice to meet you. Brad was helping me with my numbers.”

“Brad is always willing to help,” Becca said.

The words were harmless. The look she gave him was not.

Dave extended his hand. “Good meeting you.”

Brad shook it. “You too.”

Barbie held out her hand last. Her fingers closed around his, and for a second neither of them let go.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” she said.

“Maybe.”

Becca turned toward the exit. Brad followed, slipping his hands into his pockets as though that could hide anything from himself.

Outside, the desert night pressed cool against his face. The casino’s red sign flickered over the parking lot, throwing broken color across Becca’s car.

“You win?” Becca asked.

“A little.”

“Lose?”

“A little.”

She unlocked the doors. “Sounds about right.”

Brad looked back through the glass. Barbie was still near the roulette table, one hand resting on the rail. Even from the parking lot, he could tell she was watching him.

He got into the car beside Becca, but he carried the warmth of Barbie’s touch with him, and the evening he had wanted to keep uncomplicated no longer belonged entirely to his marriage.

End of chapter one. 7 more chapters and about 14,398 words in the full book.