Betting on an Omega's Life: She's the Legendary Gambler novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Marker
Cormac signs six-year-old Junie over to Barrett Castiglioni's club as collateral. Lenore grabs the pen and demands a seat; Castiglioni sets Saturday, and Cormac whispers he can't play without her.
At 1:40 in the morning my husband sent me a photo of our daughter asleep on a leather couch.
Under it he had typed, "Come to the Blue Door. Please. Don't call anyone."
Junie was wearing her dinosaur pajamas.
Her pink backpack sat on the cushion beside her head.
I did not remember grabbing my keys.
I remembered the freeway, and the red lights, and the foreclosure notice still crumpled in my fist.
The Blue Door had no sign.
A man in a black suit looked at my face, then at the patch behind my ear, and opened it anyway.
Everyone knows what the patch means.
It means Omega, and it means I was not supposed to be in that room.
The main floor was one long table under green lamps.
Twenty people stood around it, so quiet that I heard the chips click.
Cormac sat at the center in his grey velvet-collar jacket.
The whole circuit knew that jacket.
They called the man inside it the Legendary Gambler.
Across from him sat Barrett Castiglioni, silver-haired and heavy, turning one card over with his thumb.
I knew the card before it landed.
I knew it the way I had known every card for six years.
Cormac pushed his last stack forward, and his hand was shaking.
Castiglioni turned over a pair of kings.
Cormac turned over nothing.
The room let out one breath together.
"One point six million," Castiglioni said, almost kindly. "That's the number, Mr. Tarrant."
"I know the number."
"Then you know your house is already mine."
Cormac wet his lips.
"I have one more thing," he said.
A man set a single sheet of paper on the felt.
I walked closer, and nobody stopped me, because nobody thought I mattered.
The top line read, "Transfer of Guardianship."
The name under it was Junie Elise Tarrant, age six.
Cormac picked up a gold pen.
"Cormac," I said.
He did not look up.
He signed his name in the box, the same careful signature he used on her school forms.
I took the pen out of his fingers before he finished the last letter.
"Lena." His face went white. "You weren't supposed to see it like this."
"Where is she?"
"Upstairs. She's asleep. She's fine, I swear she's fine."
"You put our daughter on a table."
"It was a sure thing," he whispered. "I had the jacket on. It was a sure thing."
I turned to Castiglioni.
He looked at me.
"Mrs. Tarrant," he said. "Your husband tells me you keep house."
"I want my daughter."
"You want a lot of things."
"Take me up there now."
Two of his men stepped forward.
Castiglioni lifted one finger, and they stopped.
"Let her look," he said. "It costs me nothing."
The room upstairs smelled like cigars and old carpet.
Junie lay curled on the couch with her mouth open and her front tooth gap showing.
I knelt and put my face in her hair, and she smelled like strawberry shampoo and home.
"Mama?" she mumbled.
"I'm here, baby. Go back to sleep."
"Daddy said it's a sleepover."
"I know. Shh."
I kissed her forehead and held on a second too long.
One of Castiglioni's men cleared his throat in the doorway.
I could have grabbed her and run.
I thought about the stairs and the guard on the door.
I thought about the paper with her name, which a court would call legal if I made a scene.
I tucked her blanket up to her chin and walked back downstairs on legs I could not feel.
Castiglioni had not moved from his chair.
"The paper stands," he said. "Unless the debt is paid by Monday morning."
"Then play me for it."
A few people laughed.
"For what?" Castiglioni asked. "You're an Omega, Mrs. Tarrant. Omegas don't sit at my table."
"Then sit anywhere you like. Pick the room."
Cormac grabbed my arm hard.
"Stop it," he hissed. "You'll make it worse."
I looked at his hand until he let go.
Then I looked at Castiglioni and said, "I'm the only thing you haven't beaten yet."
Something cold moved behind his eyes.
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he looked at Cormac in the jacket, and back at me.
"Saturday night," Castiglioni said slowly.
"A private room, somewhere neutral.
"The Legend sits across from me, one match, and I tear the paper up if he wins."
Cormac made a small choking sound.
"And if he doesn't show, I file it Monday," Castiglioni said. "Your daughter is a guest of this house until then. Comfortable and fed."
"He'll be there," I said.
Castiglioni smiled for the first time all night.
"Good."
I walked out into the hot dark parking lot with my husband stumbling after me.
He caught my sleeve at the car.
"Lena, please. Listen to me."
I turned around.
His eyes were wet, and his voice dropped to a whisper no one else could have heard.
"I can't play without you."
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