“They must pay students better than they did when I was in school,” Eric said.

“Nah, I bought this with my side venture. Sling a little bit of that crack.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Kellen smiled. “One of these days I’m going to get a white guy to believe that.”

“Matter of time,” Eric agreed, walking around to the passenger side, opening the door, and sliding into the leather seat. “It is a damn nice car, though.”

“My brother gave it to me,” Kellen said. “Twenty-fifth birthday present.”

Eric raised his eyebrows. “That’s one hell of a present. What’s he do?”

“I’ll show you in a while,” Kellen said, and he didn’t elaborate as he started the engine and drove them away from the hotel. Eric didn’t question him. On another night, the remark might have caught his curiosity more. Tonight, all he wanted to do was press his head back against the seat, shut his eyes, and believe that when he opened them again, the only things he’d see would be of this world.

JOSIAH BRADFORD WOULDN’T HAVE minded just sitting on the porch with his feet up and having a few beers in privacy that night, waiting on the heat to settle and letting a day’s work ease out of his muscles. Danny Hastings had a wild hair in him, though, way Danny tended to on Fridays, and so Josiah found himself away from the porch and at the casino instead.

Danny was maybe the dumbest son of a bitch had ever learned to walk upright, but he still had more brains than money. Despite that, he found his way down to that casino about weekly. He was the sort of dumb that thought he was one pull of the slot lever away from rich, one righteous shuffle and deal away from flying first class to France.

Pathetic shit, if you asked Josiah.

Could’ve stayed home, of course, but once Danny called, Josiah relented pretty easy. That had nothing to do with Danny or the casino and more to do with the fact that Josiah’s mood was darker than normal after working in that blistering sun and dodging Amos and watching the weekend crowd arrive at the hotel. A distraction seemed like a good choice. Josiah knew his own moods pretty well by now, saw ’em coming like storm clouds, and tried to get out of their way when he could. There’d be times, though, when he’d see them on the horizon and just not give a shit, let them come on and wash over him. And on those occasions, heaven help you if you got in his way.

He was inclined, as he often was, for a good screw. That was fortuitous, because the women did more drinking on a weekend night, a circumstance in his favor. He and Danny got to the casino around eight, and Josiah downed a few bourbons and watched Danny gamble away the forty bucks he had in cash-money that was supposed to get him through till next Thursday’s paycheck-then go to the ATM and take out a fifty-dollar cash advance on the last credit card any bank would ever be fool enough to give him. Josiah left the blackjack table then, ordered another drink, and shot the shit with a few old boys he knew who were hanging around the bar waiting for Danny to get cleaned out one more time.

It was carrying on toward ten when he walked by the blackjack tables on his way to take a piss and saw Danny haggling with the dealer, two dollars in chips left in front of him. Couldn’t do nothing but shake your head at that. Stupid bastard.

Josiah took a leak and came out and stared around the room, feeling the weight of his anger again, anger driven even deeper because he hadn’t found a woman. Oh, there were some tens around, no mistake about that, but they were all hanging off somebody else’s arm already, rich bitches come down for the weekend with their boyfriends. Wouldn’t look at Josiah but would look through him, same as the hotel guests always did. There were people-Danny Hastings, for one-who were comfortable with that sort of thing, slipped into their anonymous little life like it was skin that fit them. Didn’t fit Josiah, though. He wasn’t the sort who could tolerate being an unknown. That was what he realized as he studied some of the men in the casino, men who controlled whatever crowd of assholes they’d arrived with. He didn’t want their damn money or their slut wives or their ass-kissing buddies. What he wanted-deserved-was the role. People took notice of these pricks and treated Josiah like he was furniture.

Hell with it. He’d have one more drink and call it a night.

He was halfway back to the bar when he heard someone scream, a wild impression of a rebel yell that came out more like a little girl’s sound, or maybe a pig’s squeal, something that made the hair rise up along his arms and neck, not because it frightened him but because he knew the source-it was Danny.

Danny had won.

There were wild bells and chimes going off somewhere back among the slot machines, and Josiah fell in grudging step with a handful of other onlookers and walked toward the sound.

“Josiah! Josiah, where you at? You got to see this!”

Danny shouting for him even though Josiah was just five steps away now.

“Josiah!”

“Shut up, I’m right here.” He shouldered up beside Danny to look at the display. Dollar slot machine, thing still buzzing and clattering, designed to draw a crowd of fools who’d want to rush off and shove their own cash into one of these glittering garbage disposals. It took him a second to find the figure-$2,500.

“You see that, Josiah? Twenty-five hunnert!” Danny gave another one of those damn squeals and slapped Josiah on the back. It took all Josiah had not to knock his ass to the ground.

“I put in a dollar, was all. One dollar, you believe that? Had myself some luck on over at the blackjack table, was starting to feel it ’cept for the last hand.”

Except for the last hand. Brilliant. How many broke sons of bitches had said that?

“So I’d lost my money but I knew I had the luck going, right? Didn’t have nothing but two dollars left, and I only played one of them here. Took a pull and won, took another and won, and then this one, this one was just the third pull.”

Some stupid blond chick was clapping for him now, trying to get others involved, and Danny turned and grinned at them and held his hands up over his head, clasped them together like a boxing champ. Shit, but he was ugly. Josiah didn’t know that he’d ever yet seen anyone uglier. Ugly breed, of course, redheaded men. Women could pull red hair off, but men? Damned disgusting.

Danny was heavy with beer weight, too, and freckled and sweaty. Looking at him now was almost too much to bear. Dancing around with his hands over his head like that, all over twenty-five hundred bucks. He’d give every cent back to the casino by next weekend, still be telling this story like it was some sort of accomplishment.

“I’ll tell you one thing, hoss,” Danny said, hitting the print button and watching his ticket come out, the blond girl still whistling and clapping. “Drinks is on me for the rest of the night.”

“Better believe it,” Josiah said, reaching out and-this took great effort-punching Danny in the shoulder, light, friendly. “Go on and cash that out, then come on back to the bar and spend it.”

“I always said it, I always said it,” Danny crowed, his voice thick with booze and excitement, “one day, the name Danny Hastings will be anonymous with success!”

Anonymous with success. Holy shit, he’d actually said that, and not on purpose.

“It already is,” Josiah said, and Danny just grinned and slapped him on the shoulder again, still not getting it, as the rest of the onlookers snorted with laughter.

“Like I said, go on and cash that out. I’ll be at the bar,” Josiah said.

Danny was gibbering on enthusiastically as he went. Josiah let him get all the way up to the cashier before he circled around the slot machines and left the casino.