Page 22 of Ace of Hearts

Levi

June

Las Vegas, USA

“Levi ... can you not see colors?”

I still can’t believe I was so stupid. I’ve managed to keep my secret for years, and then the minute Rose comes on the scene, I make a schoolboy error.

“I told you,” Thomas says wearily. “You’re an idiot.”

“In my defense, I wasn’t quite myself.”

It’s true. I heard the thunder, and in an instant, I saw myself, ten years earlier, in the living room of our little house, my father’s body still warm on the floor.

Ever since that night, every sound like a gunshot has taken me straight back to that moment.

I detest this weakness that leaves me petrified with fear, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

I tremble; my heart contracts; I’m afraid.

I’ve been offered antidepressants, but I always refuse.

I get by with antianxiety pills that calm me down whenever I have a crisis.

“She won’t say anything,” I say.

“Not if you pay her enough.”

I shake my head, amused. “You underestimate her, Tommy.”

I spend the next quarter of an hour telling him off for having let me buy blue and gray jackets when he knows I always want black.

“They were all out of black!” he says defensively.

“So you let me make a fool of myself? You know I always want to look impeccable. I must have seemed like a buffoon to her.”

“Nobody says buffoon anymore, boomer.”

“OK, Chris,” I reply, copying Rose.

He rolls his eyes and leaves me alone with my thoughts. They keep circling back to her . It strikes me now that the storm broke at just the right moment. If not for it, Rose would probably have woken up in my bed this morning, and that would have been a terrible idea; the worst, in fact.

She’s still asleep. Given the amount of alcohol she drank last night, her head’s probably spinning.

I decide to prepare for tomorrow’s return to the tables by watching the finals of previous tournaments, especially those featuring Tito and my father.

The two men I hate most in the world.

I’ve spent a long time analyzing my father’s technique, which, unlike Tito’s aggressive game, draws on patience and caution.

He was a very good player, back in the day.

He only beat Tito once, though that was once too often.

Tito couldn’t bear the insult. I’m convinced that he was also scared.

He recognized my father’s potential and saw it as a threat.

And shortly after that, he betrayed him.

My revenge isn’t just about pride and honor.

Tito is at the root of all my problems. Perhaps if he hadn’t cheated my father for the sake of his own ego and lust for power, my father would have taken a different path.

I’d probably have had a decent childhood.

I wouldn’t wake up sweating every night.

And my mother wouldn’t be in prison, forever altered.

So many ifs. I have no way of knowing what would have happened. The uncertainty torments me.

“Who are they?”

I turn around, surprised. Rose is standing next to the sofa, her feet bare and her hair ruffled.

She’s wearing denim shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that she’s tucked up underneath a bra that can’t be very thick, because I can make out a lot more than I should.

She hasn’t put her makeup on yet, so her eyes are without their usual heavy eyeliner.

She looks different. Very pretty. Too pretty.

“Hello,” I say softly, before looking back to the screen. “My father. And Tito, as you can see.”

“Wow. Jacob was an attractive man.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused.

“You’re very like him,” she adds. She sits next to me, crossing her legs.

That little phrase is enough to pour cold water on my mood. I reply that I’m only like him in appearance. In every other way, I’m more like my mother. She doesn’t answer, just watches the game with me in companionable silence.

When my father wins, she says, “I bet he’s proud of you. Doesn’t he play anymore?”

“He’s dead.”

She looks at me, her face impossible to read. She doesn’t say sorry, which I appreciate. I never know how to reply when people say that. Instead, she asks me what he was like.

I stop the video and snap my laptop shut.

“Horrible. Are you hungry?” I ask, to change the subject. “I called room service about an hour ago. There’re still some waffles and bacon if you want.”

She makes a face and pulls her cigarettes out of her pocket. I watch her extract one and put it between her lips, which are still puffy with sleep.

“No thanks. I’ll just smoke a ...”

She snorts with indignation as I grab the cigarette and stand up calmly.

“It’ll kill you,” I say.

“You mean, like my fist in your face will if you don’t give that back right now?”

“You’re not fifteen anymore. You should be well past your rebellious phase by now.”

She gives me a murderous look and pulls the cigarette from my fingers, her face a few centimeters from mine. “What business is it of yours?”

“I don’t like the smell of smoke ...”

“I won’t smoke near you, then.”

“Or smokers’ breath,” I whisper against her cheek.

She smiles maliciously. “I won’t kiss you, then.”

I smile, but I can taste bitter disappointment on my tongue when I say, “Perfect.”

I’m heading toward Thomas’s room when she says my name. I stiffen, sure she’s going to mention what happened last night, but she just takes a drag on her cigarette, crosses her arms, and says, “Be ready at two. I have something planned for us.”

“How’s business at the Rasputin?” Thomas asks on the other end of the line.

We’re both having a coffee on the terrace .

.. at different tables. Las Vegas in daylight is a bleak vision that I’ve never really gotten used to.

The streets are almost deserted, and even with the casino in the background, the town looks completely dead without its neon lights. As if in suspended animation.

Shit, I’m sweating! I wonder how Rose stands wearing a wig all day in this heat. I hadn’t really thought of that before. I’ve only been sitting here for an hour, under a hat, glasses, and a fake mustache.

No, I’m not joking.

Since I can’t employ someone else to do this dirty work for me (we’re already bribing enough people—it’s getting expensive), I’ve had to come with Thomas to keep an eye on Tito today.

Thomas says Tito’s been spending most of his free time meeting with businesspeople.

Potential investors. Tito is extremely influential, despite his business having recently seen a downturn following the launch of a rival app.

“It’s going OK. I spoke to Victor last night. He seems to have things in hand.”

I look away from Tito to focus on the documents I’m reading on my laptop. Tito’s business appears to be in a slow but constant decline. He must be working all hours behind the scenes to protect this venture that means so much to him.

“Damn, this thing itches.”

“Stop complaining,” Thomas mutters into the phone. I see him touch his wig in disgust. “Did I really need to wear this?”

I glance at his false black curls, resisting the urge to smile. No, he really didn’t. I just wanted to annoy him.

“He must not recognize us,” I say. “Do you know who he’s with?”

He looks over at Tito’s table and shakes his head in disbelief. “Only Giulia Moretti. She’s on the board.”

“Is she up to speed?” I ask, guessing the answer.

Though I word my question vaguely, Thomas knows exactly what I mean. “She’s his right hand. She has to know.”

I think fast, committing her face to memory. “I want a full report on her. What about the New York Times ?”

“Already on it,” Thomas replies with a hint of pride. “I managed to swing a phone interview with the editor. He’ll call you this week.”

“Perfect.”

I study the schedules on my computer screen pensively. My plan seems to be working so far, but it’s still too weak. One little hitch could bring it all crashing down. And if ...

“Am I disturbing you?”

Thomas and I both jump and hide our faces behind our menus. Rose is standing over me, squinting against the sun, a suspicious expression on her face. She catches sight of Thomas a few tables away.

“Can someone tell me why you’re both here hiding, disguised as Starsky and Hutch? Very badly disguised, I might add.”

“We’re not hiding,” Thomas retorts into the phone.

Rose rolls her eyes and turns to me.

“We had a date, remember?”

Oh shit . I force myself not to look over at Tito, hoping he hasn’t noticed us. Thomas and I have many talents, but tailing a person admittedly isn’t one of them.

“You’re right; sorry. Let’s go, in that case.”

I get up and slip my computer and my USB key into my bag hurriedly. Rose frowns and says, “What is all this?”

I see my friend giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head, but I ignore him. I want to trust Rose.

“Things to do with Tito,” I murmur into her hair, pretending to kiss her. “I’ll explain this evening, in private.”

She doesn’t reply. I pick up my bag and offer her my arm. “Shall we go?”

“OK, but first ...” She rips off my mustache with one quick movement, making me wince with pain. “I prefer you without this.”

I lead her away, signaling to Thomas that I’ll see him later, and ask her if she wants to drive. She accepts eagerly.

I take off the rest of my disguise once I’m in the passenger seat, sweat trickling down my forehead. Rose watches me, and I sense she’s about to start asking questions, so I start talking first.

“Where are we going?”

She smiles enigmatically and explains that she’s put our names down for a couples’ activity. My face immediately falls back into its neutral expression.

“If it’s a pottery course or cookery class, I’m warning you I won’t get out of the car.”

She doesn’t even bother to reply, but simply carries on driving in silence under the Nevada sun, through this city that feels like an abandoned amusement park. After ten minutes, she parks in front of a row of shops, and she turns to me.

“Do you know what color your eyes are?”