“Sure,” I said, flipping open my wallet and bringing it out. He took it from me under the bars and peered at it closely. I felt Camden tense up beside me. Technically the ID was forged. I mean, it was my old ID, my real one, but I had to add a new photo and change the expiration date on it. It was set to expire next year. Anything later and the card would have been too old to have been issued to me.
“Is there a problem?” I asked as he kept flipping it over. I almost added “officer” at the end of that but didn’t want to piss him off.
“No, no,” he said quickly, sliding the ID back to me. “Just haven’t seen that type of license for a long time.”
“I know,” I said, peering at my picture. “Mine expires next year. I’m kind of sad to get the new issue. Plus I really like my picture in this one. It’s rare you get a driver’s license that you’re not embarrassed of, you know?”
Cammie nodded appreciatively and I knew I’d won her over. The man gave me an apologetic smile. “Have fun at the Avi resort,” he said and walked away.
Her smile matched his now. “Sorry about that. We have to take precautions when large amounts come in.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked innocently. “I always thought it was over ten thousand dollars.”
“That’s by law,” she told me. “Every casino has their own policy. All the casinos in Laughlin are pretty much the same, too.”
Oh, great. Well it looked like we wouldn’t be staying here very long.
She walked away and I could tell Camden was just itching to tell me something. Instead he sucked back the rest of his drink and tossed it in the trash. When Cammie came back, she had the card in her hands and slipped it to me.
“Good luck,” she said, and immediately smiled for the next customers who were standing behind me.
As we walked away, Camden grabbed my elbow and pulled me to him. “Who was that?” he whispered.
“Who?” I asked, playing dumb.
“That Ellie Watt. I know the real Ellie Watt and she’s not that much of a people person.”
“Which Ellie do you prefer?” I asked teasingly.
He stopped walking and pulled me closer to him, staring down into my eyes.
“Whichever one I’ve got.”
I felt a blush coming on as his stare intensified. I couldn’t help but stare back, trapped in his eyes. Thankfully a loud beep came from my phone, making both of us jump and interrupting the weird aspect of our relationship that kept cropping up like a weed.
I quickly fished it out of my purse, heart racing, hoping it was Uncle Jim.
It was. “Fuck, finally,” I cried out, opening the message.
Uncle Jim said: Not much, what’s new with you? Hope you’re staying out of trouble.
Camden’s forehead wrinkled as he read it over my shoulder. “Staying out of trouble? Does he know something?”
I smiled with relief. “No, he’s always telling me to stay out of trouble.”
“And you never listen, do you?”
“Nope. Though I’m starting to think he might be on to something.”
I quickly texted him back, telling him I was just checking in and that the weather was gorgeous in Santa Barbara. Then I put it and part of my worry away. Now came a little bit of fun. Like the getaway, you had to find it where you could.
We invaded the penny slots first since we both needed drinks and you could sit there for a long time playing. The longer you sat and the better you tipped, the stronger and more regular the “free” drinks were. After our fourth rum and Coke, our waitress never came back. I guess we’d been cut off.
At this time of the year, the casino wasn’t as busy as peak seasons, so Camden was able to sit at the machine next to me without pissing anyone off. Only sometimes would you have a local who had to sit at the same machine and usually we’d just move over. I didn’t want to sit next to the crazy gamblers anyway; they usually smelled bad and had a way of eyeing you down if your machine was paying out more than theirs.
We had the most luck at the twenty-five cent Wheel of Fortune games. I wasn’t that much of a gambler to be honest—I normally just cleaned my money and got out—but I always had some bizarre luck with these ones. Plus it’s fun to yell “Wheel! Of! Fortune!”
As I pulled the lever (much more satisfying than hitting the spin button), and as the pictures spun around, Camden whistled a short but familiar tune. A tune that made my heart wrench.
“That was it, wasn’t it?” he said. He was watching me expectantly.
“Pardon me?” Another pull, another sip of my drink.
He whistled again. “The tattoo on your arm. The tune. It’s from ‘On Every Street.’ Dire Straits.”