Out of Aces by Stephanie Guerra Page A

that gorgeous meathead you showed me?”
    I cringed. “Don’t call him gorge ous.”
    She chuckled mischievously. “Sorry to break it to you. But don’t worry, you’re not so bad yourself. Although kind of skinny. So how is she?”
    “Not good,” I said. And I told her about the New Year’s opera date. As I talked, I started getting hot. I’d been really patient so far, but the whole situation was really upset ting.
    April listened quietly, sipping her Guinness and saying mmm-hmm, and uh-huh . It made me remember how nice it is to have female friends. They actually care about this stuff, and are willing to li sten.
    “So her family doesn’t like you?” April said, after I’d given some backgr ound.
    “No. They hate me. Her dad keeps such a tight rein on her, it’s sick,” I said.
    April frowned. “How old is this g irl?”
    “Twenty-one,” I said, cursing myself for not being more car eful.
    “That’s weird that her dad is still trying to control her schedule. She lives at h ome?”
    “Yeah.” I studied a poster for the World Cup.
    “How old are you , anyway?” She fixed me with her green-blue eyes, and I had the horrible feeling that she was looking right through me.
    “Twenty-three.” My mouth was sticky and dry.
    “I thought you looked really yo ung.”
    I frowned and folded a napkin into smaller and smaller squares. We were in dangerous territory. It was time to move on. “What about you? Are you dating anyone? Or did you give up on guys after that jerk cheated on you?”
    A small smile crept onto April’s face.
    “You are dating someone!” I said.
    “It’s just beginning.” She sounded shy. “I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it.”
    “Has he ever come to the club?” I asked. “If he does, you have to show me. I’ll make him the best drink he’s ever had.”
    April blushed. “Well, actually . . .” It seemed like there was something else.
    “Wait, does he work at the c lub?”
    “Maybe.” April giggled. She sounded about tw elve.
    I was all set to interrogate her when I heard Frank’s deep voice behind my shoulder. “We got a corner booth,” he said, clapping a heavy hand on my back.
    “Hang on, let me settle up and we’ll be right there.” I reached into my pocket for my wad of tips, but April was already dropping a twenty on the bar. As soon as Frank had disappeared, I said, “Is it Fr ank ?”
    “No!” April cracked up. “Are you kidd ing?”
    I had to admit, Frank looked like a Saint Bernard, with his big droopy eyes and saggy ch eeks.
    “It’s not Rob, is it?” Rob had made a few admiring comments about April here and there. He was tall, and sometimes that’s all girls care about. That and m oney.
    April shook her head. “N ope.”
    I started to scroll through all the guys who worked for our club. There were some buffed-out bouncers who worked the door with Terrell. It was probably one of them—except I didn’t know their names. “You’d better tell me,” I said. “You think meatheads are hot, so it’s probably one of the bouncers, isn’t it?”
    “I’ll tell you if it lasts another month.” April grabbed her drink, and we headed off to join the ot hers.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    I hadn’t really been doing the math when I told Nick I only needed two days off. One way in the car from Vegas to Seattle is sixteen hours if you go eighty the whole time. Eighteen if you’re driving the speed limit. I would have bought plane tickets, but they were more than a grand, and most flights were full anyway. So I had to leave way early in the morning on the thirty-first. I bought a box of Red Bull, mainlined two, and hoped for the best.
    Great Basin Highway was like driving back in time to the cowboy days: big, twisted red-brown humps of land, endless white sky, and who knows—maybe even buffalo hiding somewhere. In Idaho, the forest got crazy thick, one of the last places in the country with more trees than people. I took a rest stop in Twin Falls. In