I listen to Zayd sing his own lyrics and I wonder if any of them are true.
If they are, then I feel really sorry for him.
Money can’t buy everything.I must be exhausted because I end up falling asleep on the drive, waking to an empty car. Zayd is nowhere to be seen, and I’m left wondering where the hell I’m supposed to go. The building in front of me is very clearly abandoned with boarded up windows and doors, overgrown brush crowding the pathways.
A knock on the window startles me, and I scream, turning to find Zack waiting for me with his brows drawn together. I open the door, and he helps me out, his hand cool and dry against mine.
“I was wondering where you were when Kaiser sauntered into the party without you.” Zack runs his fingers through his chocolate hair and sighs. “I still don’t understand why you’re hanging out with those guys.”
“They warned me away from you, too, you know,” I tell him, and watch as his eyes darken. “And you’re warning me away from them. Frankly, I’m inclined to stay away from all of you.”
“Why did you come out here, Marnye? You’re not a part of the club; you never will be.” My mouth tightens, and my nostrils flare. If I have to hear Zack rip on me for being poor, then I’m going to lose my shit tonight.
“Tristan made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” I say, chewing on my lower lip and looking up at the multi-level casino. The name on the sign is hard to read, but I’m pretty sure this used to be a Native American run place. That would explain the remote location. I think we might be on a reservation. My skin prickles, and I feel disrespectful for even standing here. Clearly, the casino’s closed. Maybe they’d rather not have annoying white people traipsing all over their land?
“What did he offer you?” Zack asks, putting his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket. It’s blue and gold, and I figure those must be the colors of Coventry Prep. Burberry Prep is all about red and black although the jocks most definitely don’t rule our school: money does.
“A month without anyone bothering me about my scholarship status—or anything else for that matter.” I glance over at him, but he’s as unreadable as ever. “He wants to play me at poker. You know I can kick his ass.” The faintest brush of a smile touches Zack’s lips before it disappears again.
“Just be careful with those guys. They’re Idols for a reason. They demand sacrifice.” He starts off down the path without bothering to explain that cryptic little nugget of information. With a sigh, I follow after, around to the back of the house where white lights are strung, kegs are set up, and people are already dancing. There’s a bevy of gorgeous sports cars lined up back there, too, with girls lounging on the hoods or making out with guys inside them.
Zack leads me in the back door, past counters fitted with dark screens where customers used to drink and play slots. Some of the machines are plugged in, glowing brightly, and raucous laughter fills the room as students tug on the handles and watch the screens light up.
“Those don’t actually give out money, I’m guessing?” Zack shakes his head at my question.
“Any bets made are private bets. The machine just makes it all random.” He shows me to an area enclosed by a half-wall. It looks like it used to be a restaurant or something. The plants lining it, and hanging from the ceiling are all fake, so it looks weirdly current, even amongst the strange urban decay of the rest of the place.
Tristan, Creed, and Zayd are seated around a table with three girls, all of them topless.
My nose wrinkles, as the girls giggle and pretend not to know what to do with their cards. Either that, or they really have no idea how to play poker.
“Strip poker,” Zayd explains to me, flashing a bright grin. “You should get in on this, Working Girl.”
“No thank you.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If I played strip poker with you, I’d win, and then I’d be forced to stare at the three of you naked. Sorry, not interested.”
“You’ve gotten brave,” Creed drawls, looking like he’s half-asleep with boredom. Not even three bare-chested girls have aroused his attention. No, the only time I’ve seen him look alive is when he was destroying that Derrick guy. “We’ve been pretty lax in reminding you of your status, haven’t we?” Tristan and Zayd give him a pair of cryptic looks that he doesn’t bother returning. “You three, get up. We’re done here.”
The girls all gape at each other, snatching up their shirts and leveling dark glares on me, as if it’s my fault the game’s over.
