Читать книгу The Accidental Honeymoon - Portia MacIntosh, Portia MacIntosh - Страница 13

Chapter Five

If you’d told me this time last week I’d be single and having dinner with a gorgeous man who wasn’t my fiancé, I wouldn’t have believed you. And yet here I am, in Las Vegas of all places, sitting opposite Jack.

I’ve been asking him loads of questions about his job. I had no idea there were so many ways to cheat in casinos – well, try to at least.

As Jack explains each technique to me, he demonstrates them with an old, battered playing card from inside his wallet.

I’ve learned about card marking, which is basically what it sounds like: making a mark on cards so you know what they are before they’re turned over. He’s also shown me a multitude of ways to hide cards on your person, or quickly swap them with ones in your pocket, or trade cards with the person next to you.

‘I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff,’ he laughs. ‘You might just go back into the casino and clean up.

‘I won’t, I promise,’ I giggle. ‘I just find this fascinating.’

‘More?’ he offers.

I nod my head eagerly. Jack obligingly takes a poker chip from his wallet.

‘So, if you win, you can cap your bet, which means you sneak more chips onto the table, which means you win more for less risk. You can also try and sneak chips off if you lose a hand – all of this is illegal,’ he reminds me.

When Jack performs these manoeuvres they look effortless. He makes cheating seem easy, but I know this stuff isn’t as simple as it seems.

Once he’s done explaining, Jack rolls the poker chip across his knuckles before making it disappear and then seemingly pulling it out from inside his mouth.

I laugh.

‘Are you a frustrated magician?’ I ask.

‘I’m not really anything,’ he explains. ‘Born and raised right here in Vegas. My dad was a magician, quite a well-known one, too. This playing card is actually signed by him – that’s why I carry it around. I know what you’re thinking, that it’s weird to have my dad’s autograph. But this is a card from one of the last tricks he did before he died.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

Jack bats his hand.

‘It’s OK. It was a while ago now. My dad taught me a lot about sleight of hand and the art of deception. I knew I could use these skills for good or bad, and here we are. Or here we were,’ he corrects himself. ‘So, what do you do?’

I push my few remaining fries around on my plate anxiously.

‘Erm, I’m sort of between jobs at the moment,’ I admit. ‘Moved here from England to study acting at UCLA, graduated. I work a few part-time gigs but my fiancé doesn’t like me taking on too much. He travels a lot for work and said it would be easier for us to spend time together if I worked less.’

Jack’s face falls.

‘You’re engaged,’ he suddenly realises.

‘Not anymore,’ I point out quickly. ‘You were right, on the roof, when you guessed a boy was the reason I was crying. I caught him cheating on me a couple of days ago.’

Every time I say it, it comes out more casually and very matter-of-fact.

‘Bastard,’ Jack says softly. ‘So, you ran away to Vegas?’

‘Just stopping over,’ I tell him. ‘On my way to England for a family wedding.’

‘Your family will help you through it,’ he reassures me.

‘Yeah, I can’t tell them. I’m just going to pretend he has to work, and tell them when it’s easier.’

‘What did you say he did?’

‘He’s a pianist,’ I reply.

‘Yeah, he sounds like one,’ Jack jokes.

‘A pianist,’ I correct him with a chuckle. ‘I don’t know if it’s all that believable, but the truth isn’t an option.’

Jack thinks for a moment.

‘I know you were upset about it earlier, but you seem very… numb right now,’ he observes. ‘Do you think you’re having trouble admitting it to your family because you’re struggling to admit it to yourself?’

‘All right, Magic Psych,’ I cackle. ‘Calm down.’

Jack throws his head back as he laughs.

‘What is it with the stripper comments?’ he asks. ‘And where is your accent from?’

‘Lancashire,’ I tell him. ‘It’s in the north. And if I seem more numb than I did earlier, it’s because of this.’

I give the empty bottle of champagne a little shake.

‘Yes, I do seem to be caring less about being unemployed,’ he reasons. ‘I guess we should keep drinking then, right?’

‘What else have we got to lose?’ I reply.