Page 73 of Never Never

Where did he⁠—

“Absolutely, sir.” The dealer nods and takes the bills, spreading them face-up on the felt, and counts them out loud. Slow—for the camera overhead, I realize. “Changing two thousand,” he announces, reaching for the chip rack.

But before his hand lands, the floorman steps forward.

“Sir, before you play another round”—he smiles up at Fox—“do you two have player’s cards? Because I’d be happy to set you up, completely complimentary.”

I blink. Fox frowns. And our moment of confusion must read as us needing a hard sell, because the floorman presses onward.

“It’s my pleasure, really,” he continues. “The Jolly Roger likes to take care of players like you. In fact, perhaps you’d prefer something more private?” He eyes Jim and Glenda, who are now all but teetering to eavesdrop on our conversation, and lowers his voice. “We do have a lounge upstairs. Invitation only.”

Fox looks stunned. Too stunned for words.

“Yes,” I say, too fast, too eager. I withdraw a little, grabbing Fox’s arm. “I mean, um, that sounds fun, babe.” It’s all I can do not to wince at the last word. But it seems to unstick Fox from his freeze state.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. That’d be sweet.”

“Excellent.” The floorman produces two cards and a pen, and offers them to Fox. “If you’d just fill these out, I’ll make a call upstairs and meet you by the elevator.”

Fox takes them. Looks down. Three seconds. Five. His thumb presses flat against the edge.

“You okay, honey?” Glenda asks. She downs the last of her champagne.

“Big spenders,” Jim says, his words almost a huff. “Now he’s a VIP, huh?”

I snap into gear. “Can you…excuse us, a sec?” I take Fox’s elbow and guide him off to the side, to a high-top table full of abandoned drinks and a smoldering ashtray.

“Sorry,” Fox mumbles, his face as red as ever I’ve seen it. He pushes the card across the table to me. “Can you—do you mind?” He clears his throat. “It’s just—I’m, uh…a little drunk, and the lines are really tiny⁠—”

“Sure, sure,” I say, glancing back over at the floorman, who’s just hanging up the phone. Lingering will only look suspicious. And I can’t be the first girlfriend to take over the paperwork for her big-spending boyfriend. I snap up the pen and take Fox’s ID when he offers it.

“Don’t judge the photo, okay?” Fox is suddenly talking a mile a minute, like he’s nervous all over again. “It’s a few years old, and I think I was hung over, and⁠—”

“Oh really?” I smirk, and when Fox’s eyes widen, I yank my arm back so the card’s just out of reach. “Not so fast! Now I have to look.”

It’s not bad. It’s…cute, really. His hair’s a little shaggy compared to now, his face a little thinner and more freckled, but it’s undeniably Fox.

I smile.

“What are you, like, fifteen, here?” I glance back up at him—Fox, the real Fox, the adult Fox.

“I’m twenty-four,” he protests. “That’s my real license,” he adds, lowering his voice. “Although I don’t remember what address that is.”

I glance to the other side of the card. Read it, carefully.

“Felix,” I say out loud.

Fox blinks. Silent.

“That’s your real name?”

He looks at the toes of his boots. Shrugs.

“Yeah. That’s…that’s my real name.” He glances back up. “Guess the secret’s out.”

“Felix,” I say again. “Huh.”

It’s not a bad name. It’s more than not a bad name, really. It’s⁠—