Accidental Billionaire (7 page)

A second text popped up.

Mom:
Dad said you’re having lunch together. So glad you can meet up. Love ya
.

Grr, Mom guilt, guess she was going to lunch. Good a reason as any to get away from Logan. She typed,
Sure, Dad, see you at noon
. She changed into a light green sundress, fixed her hair and put on a layer of powder over the pink glow of her face.

Logan stood in the foyer by the silver cougar statue, resting his hand on its pointed ears. “Kira just left. Are you leaving, too?”

Baylee walked past him without responding and hit the call button for the elevator.
Is he okay?
The words came back to her and Baylee said, “Yep.” She arched her eyebrows. “You’re going to stay in, right?”

Logan shrugged one shoulder and checked her out from head to toe. His eyes narrowed. “You have a date?”

The elevator pinged open and Baylee got on. “None ya.”

Logan straightened. “It is if you’re wearing one of the dresses I bought you. I like the green with your eyes.”

Yep, that’s how guys thought about money. If he had bought her dress, he could quiz her about her whereabouts. He needed educating, but he wasn’t her project. Baylee stuck her arm out and blocked the elevator doors from closing. “I told you, I didn’t use your spa shopping day. Check with Kira.”

“I was happy to do it.”

But she’d have never been happy to take it. Not with a dad who liked to take, first from his well-off family and then from Mom. No. She wouldn’t be Dad or Mom in her future relationship. She’d be an equal partner. Did that exist? She left, pondering the question.

She took the bus downtown. New towering European-themed casinos transitioned into the Old West. The mountains seemed closer, formal grounds turned to cacti and boulders. The distance between the casinos was shorter. The awning over the pedestrian walkway cut off the sun, and gusts of air-conditioning from the open-doored casinos cooled the breeze.

Baylee stepped around a T-shirt clad tourist drinking from a boot-shaped glass and strode past several craft kiosks. She didn’t linger; she headed straight for the golden-colored casino and entered the darkened, chilled room. Pings from the machines and calls from the gaming tables muted the individual tourist voices into snatches. “… meet them by the shark tank…lost a bundle at dice…broke even at three-card…” Baylee breathed in second-hand smoke and air-freshener as she wove her way through the casino. There were so many indoor smokers.

She stayed on the carpeted path, because then she wasn’t technically in the gaming area, but she could see it all. Eager-eyed new arrivals with their manicured hands clutching bottled water went to join the bleary-eyed up-all-night gamblers. Those guys sat on end seats slurping coffee, assessing their cards. The bolo-wearing dealers waved to offer the newbies seats. Some of the dealers wore professional smiles with their open palms. Other dealers wore serious expressions with their open palms. The pit bosses watched all the action from behind velvet ropes with warning in their eyes — they’d drag misbehavers out of there with the ropes lassoed around their ankles and leave them in the desert. Maybe that would be preferable to lunch with Dad.

There. The Gold Factory Buffet.

Dad hovered near the back of the line that had at least forty people in it. Most stared at the bank of slot machines pinging away against the wall. She greeted him and gestured at the slots. “I’ll hold our place if you want to play. I don’t mind.”

He bounced to the toes of his shoes as if he’d take her up on the offer, and then settled back. “Nah. See the tubes on top? They’re called
candles
.”

Each machine had a white and yellow, or white and red striped tube on top.

Dad’s eyes were bright. “Yellow means it’s a quarter machine. Red is for nickel slots. Cheap slots pay cheap returns. And those by the bathrooms and lines where people are forced to wait pay off the worst. I’d want a high-dollar slot at the entrance. Those pay off. And the noise.” His crooked his finger. “The noise hooks people in.” Dad got out of line while he was explaining and led her to the shorter Diamond line for special customers. “What a kick, eh?”

“Yeah.”

Dad winked at the hostess and handed her a voucher. “My whole party’s here.”

“Yes, sir. A few guests are lingering, but we’ll seat you at the next available two-top.” The hostess keyed his voucher into a cash register with the tips of her long red nails. “Shouldn’t be long.”

Dad passed her a folded twenty and nodded. “Thanks very much.”

The hostess clutched the money. “Tips aren’t necessary, sir.”

“Oh, I insist.”

She tucked the tip into her front pocket with a smile. “We really can’t.”

Baylee kept her own polite smile in place, but her fingers clenched. The last time Dad had dropped by, he’d needed a little extra for gas. She’d given him a hundred dollars from her paycheck. Was her hard-earned money going to hostesses so Dad didn’t have to wait for a table? Twenty bucks. She’d have to work hours to net that. She searched for a way to say it.
Are you insane? Shouldn’t that go in the bank? Or to me? Your kid.
“I don’t mind waiting.”

Dad shook his head. “That’s how it works here.”

Was it?

The hostess motioned to a waitress who hurried over. Their table was ready. It was a little fun walking in ahead of everyone else, she wasn’t going to lie, but the image of the twenty stuck in her brain. That’s what Mom made an hour working in the front office. That was twice as much as she made sorting shipments. She made herself stop doing the math.

They went into the Gold Factory’s dining room. The lizard factory back home was all conveyer belts, hard work, and trying not to lose a hand. The restaurant may have
factory
in its name, but the décor was
Alice in Wonderland
dipped in glitter: overblown purple gilt furniture, sparkling red floors, and mirror groupings.

“Baylee.” Dad’s tone held impatience so she knew he’d said it more than once.

A waiter stood at their table with a computer tablet in his hand. Baylee made an educated guess. “Water for me, please.”

“You can get whatever you want, same price.”

“Water, thanks. It’s dry here. Water sounds good.”

Dad chatted about Vegas history until the waiter returned with his coffee in a gold mug and her water in a gold glass. The waiter gestured for them to take advantage of the buffet. If they unwound the buffet from its maze-like setup, it would easily be the length of a football field. She placed her selections on a gold plate and wandered back to the table, wishing she were here with friends. They’d get a kick out of this place.

Dad was talking to one of the female staff. She wore black trimmed in gold, loads of makeup, a flirtatious smile, and a ‘Keno’ game apron. Dad handed her a twenty and a slip of paper with numbers circled in crayon. Another twenty flying out the window.

“So you do business here much?” Baylee kept the bite out of her question. Dad sold restaurant equipment and was always in different states.

“Some.” Dad went on about a kitchen down the road, and how he’d replaced all their ventilation hoods. Salespeople could talk like no one else, and Dad wasn’t the exception.

The waiter topped off their glasses, and Dad waited until he moved away before leaning forward. “I don’t understand why you and your mother didn’t tell me about Sax Grayson staying with you in Texas. That’s something.” He shook his head. “Rock Star Sax Grayson.” His eyes were wide and his tone impressed. “Your cousin Marissa, she’s running in some sky-high circles. One of the Steeles making it big. We never saw that coming.” His small laugh invited her to laugh with him.

She didn’t laugh. If he had been around, he would have known Tyler stayed with them, and he’d have called him Tyler, not
Sax
, a stage name. And her last name was Steele, too, so the joke was on her family.

“So Marissa’s dating Garrett Campbell, right?”

Uh. Dad had never asked who her cousin was dating before. Baylee nodded and lined up her fork and knife; she was done.

“The Scottish movie star.”

Baylee nodded again, crumpling her purple napkin in her lap. Dad was still eating his pecan pie so they couldn’t leave.

“That’s sure paid off for her. She’s starring on that TV show now, right? The cooking one?” Dad glanced up at the board and pushed his plate away in favor of marking up the card that the Keno lady had dropped off. “That’s my game.” He circled some numbers, leaving pie crumbs on the white square.

“Marissa’s talented. That’s how she got the job cooking.”

“Sure. Sure. But dating Garrett Campbell didn’t hurt. You can take a page from her book. Knowing guys like Sax Grayson. It’s how the world works.”

The waiter saved her from responding by asking, “Anything else for you, folks?”

Nope.

Dad indicated his half-empty coffee mug. “Sure, another top-off, thanks. Baylee, coffee?”

“No thanks.” She shifted and resisted the urge to check her phone and leave before he finished.

Dad took another sip. “This has been great.”

“Yes. Thank you for lunch.”

Dad shrugged. “Expense account. I’ll make contact with the manager on my way out, give him my card. Call it a sales call.”

“Oh.”

“So, when are you going to have me over to meet your friends? See that big fancy casino apartment you’re staying at? Meet your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He winked. “I’m not your mother. I won’t get all bent out of shape over you moving in with your young man for the summer.”

Ew. Just ew.

“Not when you had the good sense to trade up from small town and a trailer.”

“There’s nothing wrong with our town or our trailer.” Loads were wrong with both. The living room floor was cracked, and the water drained slow in her tub.

“I didn’t say there was. But sometimes you gotta double down.” Dad always brought out the cards when he came home so she knew the blackjack phrase but not what it meant in a dating context. She didn’t want to know what he meant. Dad tilted his coffee cup toward her. “When am I going to meet your boyfriend?”

Her frustration rose. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Your
friend
then.” Impatience edged into his voice. “Sax Grayson. Or is it that St. John fellow?”

Tyler was leaving, and she didn’t even want to imagine Dad and Logan in the same room. “It’s not my place. I don’t feel comfortable inviting people over.”

“I’m not
people
. I’m your dad.” He placed his arm over the back of his chair, settling.

“Tyler’s recording. He won’t be in tonight anyway. In fact, I think he has to go out of town for a show.”

Dad sat his coffee cup into its saucer. He adjusted his cuffs. “Really? Well, why don’t you and I hang out for a few days? I’ll stay at the penthouse with you. I’m sure there’s room.”

“Don’t you need to go home if you have time off?”

“Too much going on with work. How about I come by around seven tomorrow?”

“I wish that would work, but Logan’s there. And it’s not my place.” She crossed her fingers under the table at the partial truth, her feelings a mix of encroached upon and avoidance, and maybe a touch of guilt.

“But you’re staying there.”

“I should probably take off.”

“I would like to meet the St. John kid. I think his family owns some restaurants.”

Nightmare. Dad had the bit in his teeth. She could never outtalk him or convince him of anything. Like when she’d pushed to meet his side of the family or asked him to help convince Mom to start dating again. Nothing. But she did have eighteen years of seeing him walk away. Like when Mom suggested he come to see the marching band’s spring show or look over her homework. She had to stop chasing his game and play her own cards. “I’ll be leaving soon. If you really want to spend time together, I can go home early and we can hang as a family in Leithville.” It was an easy offer to make because she knew he’d refuse.

His face scrunched up as it did when he wasn’t getting his own way. “No. As I said. I’m busy with work. We’re both here. We’ll do surf-n-turf at the casino apartment, bet that place flies seafood in daily.”

“Can’t, sorry.” She knew how to push, too. “Do you have one of those kitchenettes in your hotel room? I can cook.”

Dad frowned, checked his mobile. “I’m in a small place.” He finished his final sip of coffee. “Well, I’d better be getting back to work.”

“Yeah.” She’d thought to ask him to drop her at the New York roller coaster but he’d grill her the whole trip, so no. He rose and she gave him a hug goodbye.

“Oh. I was asking your mom about your college plans and how you’d afford all that. I don’t think it’s really a good idea for you to get into all kinds of debt when you’re this young.”

Baylee didn’t say anything.

“Your mom said you had some savings.”

Baylee didn’t say anything.

“I think you should consider investing that and working a few years first. So you’ve got the maturity to handle it. I can help you out with that.”

No way.
“I’ll think about it. I better get going.”

As she exited by a small family, dad, mom, and daughter, a faint wish niggled at her. It would have been nice if Dad had asked where she was going and how she’d get there.

Today was going to be amazing. Sight-seeing ahead.

Baylee came out of her room and found Logan dressed and ready to go. He wore loafers, slacks, a button down, and a blazer.

“Going somewhere?”

He nodded. “Sight-seeing. Want to go with me?”

“You’ve given up on hiding out?”

“Pretty much.”

He looked so good, his smile straight, his eyes reflecting the blue in his shirt. She couldn’t resist.

He spun a set of keys on his index finger. “We could go to the New York, New York. Lunch at the Bellagio.”

“Yes, okay.” Baylee wore her cutest pale pink sundress with flats and did her best to keep it casual as they went down the elevator to the lobby and waiting valet. She didn’t even ask whose extravagant sunset-colored sports car they were using. She got in and adjusted the vent, admiring the poppy pink polish on her nails. They’d be gripping the rail on a roller coaster, something she hadn’t gotten to do yesterday, and she’d be going with Logan. Fun.