hands. He was $300 down. Just like that.
He played faster. He kept losing. He grabbed his drinks and his money and moved to a different machine. He hit two pairs and a three of a kind right away. He relaxed. He signaled the waitress and got another double.
He switched to multiple play. Five hands at once. This gave him a chance to lose more, faster. He got into a rhythm: drink, bet, lose, and then feed more money into the machine. Convinced that if he just amped up his speed he’d eventually hit some big hands again, he kept putting in more money. He was amazed at how quickly it all disappeared. The more and faster he lost the more convinced he became that he was just about to start to win. It didn’t make sense to him that he could bet so much so many times and
always
lose.
At just before 10, he ran out of the money from his stack. He took the four hundred dollars out of his wallet and changed stations. He loaded the last of his cash. He figured he needed to start over with a new, more positive attitude. He could still get ahead. So what if he was losing? It was his money, and he had a right to spend it however he wanted.
At ten fifteen, he had 20 dollars left in the machine. He was having trouble reading the cards. He knew he was fucked. Went to the ATM and tried to get cash advances from his Visa, his Master Card, and his Amex. His credit cards were all denied. Then he remembered that he’d maxed all those out last month at Black Oak Casino in Sonora. Checked the balance on his bank debit card: just over fifteen hundred dollars. Tried to take it all out, but all the machine gave him was three hundred. So what if Lydia knew where he was? Fuck that bitch.
All he needed was a little bit of luck to turn things around, and he could put the money back.
After ten minutes, he turned the three hundred into twelve hundred. He kept telling himself to go deposit the three hundred back into the bank and then play with the nine hundred, but he held off. Twenty minutes later he was broke again. He went back to the ATMs, and his request for more money was denied. Now, he was really broke.
Oh,
shit
.
He went up to his room. He didn’t know what to do. He had no money. He only had one night left in his stay. He was so drunk. He passed out on the bed.
It was 11 A.M.
Chapter 17
L ydia managed to keep Hunter out of her ass most of the night by repeatedly giving him the best head she’d ever performed. Amazing how creative a desperate person can be. Of course, he was high on meth, so he stayed hard for hours. Eventually, at about three A.M. , she accepted his offer of a snort of the shit for the first time ever. After that, she stopped caring where he fucked her, just as long as he kept fucking her. It felt fantastic.
When he wasn’t actively attending to his hard on, Hunter communicated with his contacts at the casinos.
She called in sick to work. They told Tanner what was going on, and he helped monitor the bank account whenever his mom and Hunter slipped back into the bedroom.
Hunter gave her one more snort of meth.
“That’s all you get sweetheart,” he said. “I won’t allow you to turn into some ugly meth skank. I need you to stay young and hot and sexy.”
Lydia had never felt so excited and energetic. She could
not
believe how good Hunter’s cock felt. She remained vaguely aware of Hunter and Tanner’s ongoing search for Matt, but she really wasn’t interested. She was certain the money was gone. Poof. Let the guy have his little adventure. So what? Did she
really
need all that surgery? She was a totally hot bitch already, right?
Just before dawn, Fuckhead Roy called Hunter. He went into the other room to talk. Lydia lay on the bed and touched herself all over with her nails. She heard Hunter shouting into the phone. She thought she heard Tanner laughing. Then, there was silence. She thought about Matt. She missed the asshole. Realizing this made her laugh.
“I need to show you something,” Hunter said.