He lifts his head to her slowly, almost like he’d been in a trance, watching the old guy.

“What?” he clips out. I haven’t heard him be short like this until now.

She stares at him for a long moment, her body tense, then says, “Quit eye-fucking the businessmen. You’ll make them nervous.”

Jay lets out a breath and looks away, picking up the cards she just dealt him. “I was just taking in the scenery,” he mutters.

“Sure,” says Jessie, then in a barely audible voice, “Tell that to the white shotgun look in your eyes.”

I momentarily wonder what she’s talking about, slipping my phone out and covertly looking up what “white shotgun” means. Turns out it’s a mob term for killing someone in such a way that they vanish without a trace. Okay, that’s not weird at all. Or disturbing.

In the next game, Jay wins by the skin of his teeth with eighteen, trumping Jessie’s seventeen. After seeing him play a number of times at this point, I really am impressed. If I were Jay, I’d almost have enough for my new sewing machine right now. Soon the young guy leaves and then the blonde does, too, but not without slipping her number to Jessie before she walks away.

Jessie smiles to herself as she shoves the piece of paper in her pocket.

Jay glances at the blonde’s retreating figure. “How’s that working out for you?” he asks curiously.

Jessie cocks an eyebrow. “How do you think? She’s got a bangin’ body.”

“Yeah, and enough jewellery to sink the Titanic.”

Jessie snickers. “So, any more gambling for yourself tonight, sir, or are you done?”

Jay’s gaze lands on me. “I’m thinking we’ll give our little virgin a chance to play.”

I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m still not entirely certain of the rules.”

“We’ll go slowly,” says Jessie.

“Like any good de-flowerer,” Jay puts in.

“I’ll have you know I was de-flowered quite some time ago,” I blurt humorously while pointing a finger at Jay, the martinis well and truly taking their hold.

Jessie laughs, but Jay turns in his seat to give me a heated look, his lips curving in an almost smile. “Come on, then, let’s hear the story.”

“Not a chance,” I answer sassily, rummaging in my bag for my chips. With a proud look on my face, I set down ten euros’ worth.

“High roller,” says Jay with a chuckle.

Jessie gives him a scolding look before saying to me, “You don’t have to bet big like this flashy bastard. Just put down whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I know,” I say, my heart thumping with anticipation. When I get my cards, I pick them up and hold them close so that Jay can’t see, annoyed with him for slagging me off about my small bet.

I doesn’t matter anyway, because I end up losing.

We play two more games, with me only putting down ten euros each time. I lose once and win once. The win gives me the confidence to go bigger, so I bet fifty euros this time. Two of the businessmen from the group Jay had been staring at come over and take seats at the table. I feel a bead of sweat trickle from my temple as I wait to see what the result will be. My original hand contains an ace and an eight of clubs, so I stick with it, my heart fluttering with excitement. I’ve got nineteen altogether. That’s good. Very good. I cross my fingers, hoping Jessie has lower than that, or something over twenty-one.

When she reveals she’s only got fifteen, I practically jump off my seat with glee. I won! I just won fifty euros. Wow! I’m so elated that I throw my arms around Jay’s shoulders and give him a big hug. I’m tipsy, but I still notice how good his body feels all pressed up against mine. He hugs me back, his warm hand at the base of my spine for a moment. Then I pull away.

“This calls for a celebratory drink,” I say happily.

“Yeah,” Jay replies, giving me a tender smile.

From the other side of the table, I hear the businessmen chuckling while one of them jokes, “Christ, if she’s that excited for fifty euros, I’ll give her a hundred for a blowjob.”

Ugh. What a sleazebag. Unfortunately, Jay heard him say it, too. He gets up from his seat, his happy transforming into pissed in a heartbeat.

“The f**k did you just say?” he asks as he steps over to the two men.

The one who said it is too drunk to realise he should be scared. He gives Jay a dirty look. “I said,” he enunciates, “I’ll give her a hundred for a blowjob. Those lips would be so worth it.”

His friend is in hysterics now, and I go to Jay, placing a hand on his elbow. “Leave it. They’re just arseholes.”

“Yeah, Jay,” Jessie adds in a serious voice. “Leave it.”

We might as well be invisible, though, because it’s like Jay can’t even hear us. He takes another step toward the guy who’d mouthed off, staring down at him furiously. “Apologise now.”

The guy makes an unattractive snort. “Fuck you.”

“No, f**k you,” says Jay before shoving him in the shoulder. Outraged, the man loosens his tie and rises from his seat.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” he spits, then looks to Jessie. “You work here — shouldn’t you be calling security?”

“I should be,” she answers with a raised eyebrow. “I’m thinking I’ll give it another minute, though.”

“This is ridiculous. This piece of shit just attacked me. I’ll be having words with your manager.”

“You go right ahead.”

Jay gets up in the man’s face, and his friend tries to calm him down. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh, yeah? ’Cause this f**k seems to be asking for it.”

“Christ, I’m sorry if I made some joke about your slut over there. I was only having a laugh.”

“Okay, let’s see how funny you find this,” says Jay before landing a punch to his jaw and then an uppercut to his ribs. The man stumbles back into his seat, clutching his jaw in his hand, a look of shock on his face. I don’t think he believed Jay was actually going to hit him. Even I didn’t really believe it until it was happening.

Seconds later the bouncer from earlier is on Jay, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away from the businessmen. Jay easily slips out of the bouncer’s hold, side-stepping toward me.

“Sorry to abandon you so soon, Jess, but it seems I’ve outstayed my welcome.” He salutes her with a grin.

“No problem,” says Jessie, and then Jay grabs my hand in his.

“Come on, Watson. I think it’s time to vamoose.”

He yanks me off my stool, still dodging the bouncer, who’s advancing on us and shouting at Jay that he’s barred. Hand in hand, we run out of the casino and halfway down the street before I have to stop. Running and heels do not go together.

Out of breath, I clutch my chest before bursting into a fit of giggles. I don’t know why I’m laughing. I think it might be delayed shock or something. Jay stands in front of me and starts laughing, too.

It takes a while for us to calm down. When we finally do, Jay steps out to the side of the road and flags down a taxi. It’s only when we’re both seated in the back that I finally have enough breath to speak.

I can’t believe you punched that man. That was just crazy. I seriously didn’t think you’d actually do it,” I say, my breathing still heavy. The taxi driver perks his ears up to listen. I don’t think I’ve experienced this much excitement since Dad sprang a surprise trip to Disneyland Paris on me for my eleventh birthday.

Jay turns to me in his seat and reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. He’s looking at me intensely, emotions in his eyes that I don’t understand. “I can’t let a**holes get away with talking to you like that. No way. You’re too good for that shit.”

His words make me shiver. And I hate to admit it, but some deep inner part of me loves the fact that he’d defend my honour when he hardly even knows me. Does he feel something for me like I do for him? Some small attraction? He takes my hand then and holds it in his, his fingers laced through mine. His thumb rubs along the veins on the inside of my wrist and I stare out the window, savouring the simple feeling of his skin on my skin.

Six

As we exit the taxi and go in the front door, we try to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Dad. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s almost midnight. I didn’t manage to win enough money to buy a new sewing machine; however, I did end up with slightly more cash than I started out with, so at least that’s something.

Turning on the hall light, I catch a glimpse of the knuckles on Jay’s right hand and see that they’re a little scraped and reddened from throwing those two punches.

“Come on upstairs, and I’ll get you some antiseptic for that,” I whisper, touching his hand for a second. I slip off my heels and leave them at the bottom of the stairs.

He follows silently behind me, and I wonder if he’s checking out my arse again like last time. I don’t have the courage to turn around and investigate, though.

When we reach the bathroom, I pull a bottle of antiseptic from the shelf and some cotton wool from the cupboard. Jay sits down on the edge of the bathtub, watching me.

“You really shouldn’t have attacked that man,” I say. “I’ve had worse things said to me over the years.”

His eyes darken. “Who’s said worse to you, Matilda?”

I shrug it off. “Almost every time my friend Michelle and I go out, we get crude stuff shouted at us. I think it’s all part and parcel of being around drunk men with no filters.” I pause and amend, “The women can be fairly nasty at times, too.”

“Well, that’s probably because they’re jealous. And the men do it because they misguidedly think it’ll get them laid.”

I laugh softly and pour some antiseptic onto the cotton wool before sitting down beside him and bringing it to his hand. “‘Misguided’ is definitely the right word.”

When the cotton wool meets his knuckles, he hisses and curses, “Motherfucker.”

“You know what? You Boston-Irish swear even more than us Irish-Irish,” I joke.

“Yeah,” says Jay. “I’ve got a dirty mouth, but it’s mostly used for good.”

I glance at him. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel all funny and hot, so I hand him the cotton wool.

“There. You can finish yourself off,” I say, standing up.

I have to resist the urge to face palm when I see the size of his smile. Sometimes I think my brain might just be a gaping hole containing nothing but unconscious innuendo.

“You know what I mean,” I mutter as I open the door to leave.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Jay calls after me.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Sleep tight.”

I can still hear him chuckling as I close my bedroom door.

The next morning, breakfast is waiting for me again. This time it’s fresh fruit and a croissant. Jay’s nowhere to be seen, but the croissant is still warm, so he must have gone out to get it. Dad’s eating his just as happily as he ate his bacon and eggs yesterday.

“I think it might have been the best decision I ever made, taking in a lodger. He has us eating like kings every morning.”

“Yeah, let’s see if you’re still saying that when you gain ten pounds,” I reply, and take a bite of the deliciously fresh pastry.

Jay enters the room just then, dressed in a suit like he’d been when we first met. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Watson,” he chirps. “It’s actually been proven that you lose weight by eating it, rather than the opposite way around.”

“Oh, well, colour me corrected,” I mutter.

“So, how did the casino night go?” asks Dad with interest.

I make eye contact with Jay, and I think in that moment we both unconsciously agree to leave out the part about him punching a man to defend my honour.

“Great. You’re looking at a girl who’s forty euros richer than she was yesterday,” I declare proudly. “I lost ten euros twice, but then I won back ten, and then I won fifty, so forty profit altogether.” I glance at Jay. “Still not enough to buy me a new machine, but I’ll keep saving.”

Jay gives me a surprisingly affectionate expression before knocking back a gulp of coffee. “Right, lady and gent, I’ll be out most of the day. I’ve got a couple of meetings to find a solicitor willing to take my case.”

“Oh, good luck with that,” says Dad as Jay leaves. When he’s gone, Dad takes his plate over to the sink and rinses a few dishes. My eyes travel to my broken sewing machine, and I notice something’s amiss. Leaving my half-eaten breakfast, I go over to check and find two neatly stacked piles of casino chips. In front of the piles is a note.

My fault we had to leave early last night, so I forfeit my winnings to you, Watson. Go get yourself the sickest sewing machine that money can buy.

Yours,

Jay.

P.S. Finishing myself off last night wasn’t nearly as satisfying as having someone else do it for me.

Oh, my God, he’s so cheeky…and I kind of love it. I pick up a chip and run my fingers over the plastic. I really shouldn’t accept these, but the prospect of buying a new machine today is too tempting to walk away from. I scoop them all up and drop them into my bag like a giddy child.

Later on during my lunch break, I take a trip to the casino to see if I can cash in the chips, hoping it’s open. Turns out it opens at ten in the morning, and there are actually people already there gambling when I go inside (which is a little depressing). At night there’s a sense of glamour, but in the light of day there’s a desperation about it all.