Once Upon a Kiss Read online

  Oh. She was interviewing me. “Nice to meet you, what’s your name?”

  “Claudia Knight.”

  Oh shit. She was the founder’s daughter. Why was she coming to interview me? I was there to interview for a position as a dealer, it wasn’t like I was the next vice president.

  “Do you like the place?” She asked with a shine in her eyes.

  “Yes.” I said quickly. But I wasn’t lying just for the interview. “I love the aesthetics of this place. There’s something about the chapel in the middle of everything that would make anyone think of this place as some kind of magical spot.”

  “Are you an artist?” She asked.

  I laughed. “Far from it. It says on my resume, but I’ve been an accountant for the past four years. I have a math degree and can’t even hold a paintbrush right. But I like going to galleries. Just because I can’t do it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.”

  “Interesting.” She walked around me and looked me up and down.

  “Do you want to know more about my work history?”

  “Oh, this isn’t an interview.”

  “It isn’t?” I followed her as she began to walk away.

  “I’m supposed to be bringing you to the interview.”

  “Uh?”

  She led me to a side room. “Your interview is in here.”

  “Who’s interviewing me?”

  “My brother.”

  Chapter Three

  I shuffled into the room and looked back at Claudia who gave me a cheesy thumbs up. She was such a mystery to me. The door closed behind me and I took a look around the room. The walls were painted with a dark forest green and the desk and the picture frames were a dark stained wood. The pictures were old and grainy shots of the construction of this place; I saw copies of them online.

  The chair behind the desk turned around revealing Claudia’s brother, current owner of The Green Chapel Inn, and the person who apparently inherited the family’s flair for the dramatic, Bertrand Knight. The first thing I noticed about him were his green eyes, but they weren’t the ones I was looking for. Mr. Knight’s eyes were muddy, like an overwatered soccer field. He was a broad man with long chestnut hair swept behind his shoulders. He wore a very expensive looking suit with a pale green pocket square in the breast pocket. He had a well-trimmed beard and sharp features. He had a kind of energy around him, I wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like how I felt when I walked into the casino and took in the sight.

  “Mr. Griffin,” he intoned. He had a deep voice that was somewhat scratchy, but there was a lightness to it, almost playful?

  “Yes sir.” I sounded dumb; I just knew I did.

  “You can sit.” He motioned to the chair in front of him.

  I sat down and put my hands on my lap bouncing them up and down nervously. Why was the owner of the entire casino interviewing me? Isn’t that what they had managers for?

  “Sorry if this is a surprise, but I prefer to get to know my dealers before I send them out on the floor; it’s an important job,” he explained as if he was reading my mind.

  “That’s good.”

  “Do you like to take risks?”

  I felt my professionalism slink away as I tried to process that question. “What?”

  He shuffled the papers in front of him. “It says on your resume about work history that you had a pretty lucrative job with plenty of upward mobility. I called your references there and they say you put in your two weeks and quit without much more explanation. Then you apply for a position as a dealer far from home. A job which most places only pay minimum wage, if that, and let them hope for tips to make rent. So I’m asking, do you enjoy taking risks?”

  It felt like he had speared me through the chest. I didn’t think anyone would think twice about my past. I hoped they’d assume I had to leave for whatever banal reason their imagination could come up with.

  “I don’t have to answer that,” I said almost instinctively. Then I remembered it was an interview and I had technically talked back to him.

  Mr. Knight only smiled. “Why did you come to Green Chapel Casino?”

  No way was I telling him about New Year’s Eve. Arthur had been right about the whole thing being crazy, no matter if I was set on following through with it or not. “I’m not going to tell you that either.” If he wouldn’t take me, I could just get a job somewhere else in Vegas while I searched for the Green Man.

  “I didn’t think you would.” He stood up and straightened up his suit jacket. “But I bet I can get you to tell me one day.”

  “Pft,” I let out the involuntary sound. The idea of whether I was being respectful to my future boss completely left me. It wasn’t my most flattering trait, and it got me into this whole mess in the first place, but my friends often complained about how competitive I was. I crossed my arms and grinned. “No way.”

  “Claudia will be able to show you around.”

  “Wait.” My grin faltered. “Does that mean I’m hired?”

  “Of course,” he said as he scrolled through his phone, barely looking at me now. “How else will I find out what I want? I always win bets Mr. Griffin.”

  So that was the kind of man he was. “You’re kind of an asshole.” I couldn’t control myself anymore.

  He glanced up from his phone looking at me like I was a stain on the floor. “Only kind of?” And left.

  “So.” Claudia stepped in and folded her hands in front of her. “Did it go well?”

  I turned around in my seat to look at her. “Is he always like that?”

  “Yep!” She said brightly.

  “Does he really individually interview all his dealers?” I asked.

  “Sort of?” She admitted. “He only does it when he wants to find something out. And he usually finds out what he wants.”

  I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t met someone as stubborn as me yet. “Good luck to him, but it’s not happening.”

  She laughed but I didn’t see anything very funny.

  “You are the first person who’s given back what he gives you,” she explained through giggles.

  It took me a second to work out what she meant in my head. “You mean...no one has ever talked back to him before?”

  “I could tell, when he passed me, he was frustrated.” She winked.

  He did not give off that impression to me. “He’s hard to read.” You’re hard to read too, I wanted to tell her. I guess this is how you turned out when you were raised in a casino fairly unsupervised by the kind of man who built a giant cathedral.

  “You’ll learn,” she said breezily. She had switched back into the more mysterious woman she was before. “Come with me, there’s a lot to learn.”

  ***

  She took me around the casino, focusing on the tables. She quizzed me on the rules of all the games. In college, I was constantly starting games of all kinds in the math building’s study room. I only got kicked out for being disruptive seven times and the dean of the college shut the whole thing down. But I won a little more than I spent and learned how to play every game under the sun, how to deal cards, and all the common hand signals. I liked the way numbers ticked and card games was all probability and math. It was both my passion and a way to feed my competitive nature, so a win-win. As a dealer I could spend all day being a silent player, win or lose, and still get paid. Though I would enjoy winning quite a bit.

  “You’ll start tomorrow,” she told me as she rooted around in a supply closet in the employees’ room.

  “What game?”

  “Blackjack.”

  I sucked in a breath. “I thought new dealers started on less popular games?”

  “Usually. But Bertrand insisted.”

  Was it another way to pressure me to tell him, or was it a way to see if I really did enjoy risks? Could I handle a day as a Blackjack dealer on my third day in Vegas?

  I had better hope so.

  She finally found what she was looking for. “Here you go.” She shoved a bundle of
clothes in my arms.

  “How did you know my size?”

  “It was on the resume too. But make sure you look presentable tomorrow and come in with a good attitude. You’ll need it.” She started to head out.

  “Wait,” I called.

  She turned, her dress swaying and sparkling even now in the regular lighting. “Yes?”

  “It was nice to meet you?”

  She put a strand of hair behind her ears and flashed me a smile. “Oh. I will see you soon. My brother is not the only one wondering you know. I read your resume. Whatever you’re here for, I think it’ll be thrilling.”

  With a final wink she was gone. When I wandered out of the room and back to the main casino to head back to the bus stop, I couldn’t find her or her brother on the floor. Just as well. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be leaving me alone for much longer.

  ***

  Back at my apartment, I had the dinky washer running my uniform for tomorrow and I listened to the whirring fade into the background as I went over the details of my whirlwind day.

  “What’s so special about me?” I asked my empty apartment. “I’m just a guy.” Mr. Knight and Claudia’s interest in me was so strange. I was normal. Maybe not boring, but not interesting either. Jack had made that clear. Maybe they thought I was some company spy here to ruin their casino? Or I was there as part of a heist? It sounded stupid as soon as I thought of it, but at the same time what else could it be?

  I could just tell him I was here on the off chance I might meet this guy I almost puked on five months ago who I thought could be the love of my life.

  I shook my head. No way. Out of the heat of the moment, I felt more comfortable telling him, but… Knowing he wants to know so bad he’s trying to test me to figure it out? I felt a vindictive smile creep over my face. No way. If he wanted to get me to reveal it, he was going to have to try harder than that.

  Chapter Four

  The uniform I had to wear was interesting, to say the least. The base seemed like a standard dealer’s outfit; it consisted of black slacks, a crisp, white button up, and a black velvet vest. Where it stood out was the forest green stole–I had to look it up–which was like a thing priests wear but instead of anything religious on it, it just had the Green Chapel logo embroidered with gold thread at the ends. It was kind of blasphemous but so was the whole casino, why not go all the way?

  I put on most of the outfit but put the stole in my backpack. I don’t know why I was so worried about looking odd in Vegas of all places but I did. I went in through the employee’s entrance that Claudia showed me yesterday and slipped on the stole before the security guard looked through my bag. Inside the break room I found the schedule for tables for the day and sure enough, I was scheduled for Blackjack. A small part of me still hoped they were hazing the new guy by getting me all nervous for nothing. Nope! It was all serious.

  I straightened up my outfit and put on my most confident smile. I could take what Mr. Knight wanted to dish out. I’d prove it to him today and maybe he’d give up trying to figure out my secret and then I’d win whatever weird contest we had going on between us. I faltered a little. That didn’t sound very likely, he didn’t seem like he was one to give up easily. Well neither was I. A stalemate meant that I won after all.

  I headed out to my table and the dealer there swapped out with me. She showed me where to get cards from, handed me her headset, and said, “Break a leg.” Then left. She had closed down her table in preparation for the swap so I took the closed sign down and already people started heading my way. ‘

  It started out pretty easy all things considered. It took a few rounds for me to get into the rhythm, but soon I was dealing out cards quickly and got less frustrated huffs. At that point I started to get a few tips.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said to one generous lady who won quite a bit on a double down and decided to share the wealth.

  She winked and continued on with her winnings to who knows where.

  I kept looking around for Claudia or Mr. Knight, but if they were watching, they were well hidden.

  It was all going great, better than I could have hoped, until about two hours in.

  It started like this. A man, who looked to be in his late forties, early fifties, sat down and started playing. He won a little and lost a little. He wasn't having a real remarkable time. I decided not to chat with him; he gave off a kind of attitude that kept me talking to the couple at the other end of the table who’d come here for their honeymoon and had never gambled before in their lives. They were way more open to conversation.

  Then with no warning, he bet a lot and was dealt a seven and a five. Not the worst or the best hand. I turned up a six and he doubled down. The other players at the table busted and so it was me against him. I turned over the king of spades and he turned over the two of hearts. I collected his chips and moved to get the next deck when I heard a slamming noise.

  The newlyweds jumped at the sound and I turned around.

  The man’s face had turned bright red. “You’re cheating.”

  “Excuse me?” I was genuinely surprised at the accusation.

  “Every time I play here, I lose to this exact fucking situation.” He jabbed his fingers down on the table.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t double down on a thirteen?” I suggested not so innocently.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he growled and lunged forward.

  I jumped back, narrowly missing his reaching fingers like he was trying to grab my collar.

  “Cool it,” one of the newlyweds piped up to defend me.

  The man glared at them next but reached back to me and grabbed my stole and pulled me closer.

  Fuck this uniform, I thought as I fumbled for the talk button on my headset.

  “I demand a refund.” The man tightened his grip causing a feeling like rope burn on the back of my neck.

  I turned my microphone on, but I had to think of something to get him to let go of me or stop him from doing something worse before security could arrive.

  “Excuse me,” I said in my most polite customer service voice.

  “What?” He basically snarled.

  “When you get dealt the thirteen and I get a six I would suggest in the future not doubling down since the most common value in a deck is equal to ten. It is possible for you to win, but it is more likely that I will get a sixteen and you will get busted with a twenty-three. The probability of getting a card with a value of ten is thirty percent compared to the seven percent chance of every other value. And with a thirteen you don’t want to get a nine either so that’s thirty-seven percent of the deck that will make you lose instantly no matter what I get. Is that worth risking double what you bet in the first place?”

  His grip loosened as he looked at me with confusion.

  “So, I would suggest staying or hitting next time,” I finished my spiel, almost out of breath.

  “I would listen to the man,” a voice made the man turn around.

  Mr. Knight in an almost bored fashion straightened his tie. Two people in security uniforms stood behind him.

  “Uh, I was just…” The man quickly let go of me and I stumbled back. I reached my hand to the back of my neck and gingerly felt around the skin. It definitely hurt but it wasn’t the end of the world.

  “…going with these two lovely people to have a chat,” Mr. Knight finished for him with a sharp smile that showed off his canines.

  The two security guards flanked the man and left. I noticed that the casino, at least near the commotion, had quieted down to listen to us and I felt red pool in my cheeks.

  Mr. Knight smiled warmly at the remaining guests at my table as he addressed them, “Sorry for the commotion but we’ll have to shut this table down for a moment to get a statement from our dealer.” He handed each of them a card. “Here is a coupon for free chips for your trouble, I hope you enjoy the many other tables we have available.”

  “Here you go. When you told that man off, I had to keep from
laughing.” The husband of the couple handed me a nice tip before they staggered off with their cocktails in hand.

  Once the table had cleared out, Mr. Knight approached me, his mouth a thin line. “Are you all right, Mr. Griffin?”

  “I will be,” I grumbled as I unbuttoned my shirt a little so the collar wouldn’t sit on my neck anymore and irritate it further.

  “Were you hurt?”

  I could almost mistake that for concern if it weren’t for the playful glint in his eye.

  “Oh, just some rope burns on my neck,” I said in an obviously fake cheerful voice. “Just another day in Vegas.”

  He smirked slightly. “Come with me.”

  “To get my statement taken?”

  “After I buy you a meal for your trouble.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Was this really a nice gesture or another chance for an interrogation?

  “It’s the least I can do for the ordeal you’ve had to go through.”

  “Sounds good.” I wouldn’t back down from the challenge.

  “Follow me; I don’t think you’ve been to the restaurant here yet. I have a private booth.”

  Of course he did. “Of course you do,” I muttered.

  “I’m sure you will love it,” he promised and I saw the flash of his teeth once again and felt something in my chest stutter.

  Chapter Five

  The restaurant was dimly lit by overhead chandeliers with bulbs that flickered to imitate fire. The tables were all covered with pristine white tablecloths and the waiters were all dressed in coattails. It felt over the top to me. But when he showed me his private booth, I nearly rolled my eyes out of my head. No one would call that a “booth” once they saw it. It was a two-person table surrounded by swirling green stained glass with a door so it was completely separate from the whole restaurant.

  “This way,” a waiter held the door open for us and I nearly blushed at the formality of it all.

  We were handed menus and the prices were something.

  Mr. Knight probably saw my eyeballs pop out and smiled devilishly. “Get whatever you desire. It is my treat.”