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wry smile, Frank shook his head. “Sorry, honey, but he had The Look. I’d venture to say he’s a candidate for Gamblers Anonymous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he’s in the poorhouse or anything. Yet. Just, he can’t resist the call of the chips when he gets in a situation where they’re offered. Like he’d be okay outside walking The Strip, but once inside, with the noise, he gravitates to the tables. I bet when he’s at home when the computer is on, he’s just got to go check out what’s up on Poker Stars. Right?”
    My face answered, I guess, because Frank nodded and finished his highball and signaled the bartender for another. “Give her a chardonnay.”
    Toby had ordered for me always and I never argued, but for some reason it bothered me that this Frank guy would try it. “No, thanks. I’ll take a pinot grigio.”
    Frank laughed. “An independent woman. Almost as rare a species here as an honest one.”
    “It sounds like you have a bad history with the opposite sex,” I offered taking a sip of my white wine.
    Frank threw me a dark look and took a slug. The bartender appeared with a bottle of Chivas Regal and refilled his glass.
    “Then we have something in common, because I do too,” I said, surprising myself. The Caught Banging the Young Secretary Incident still smarted. Why would I tell a total stranger that I was a loser? I decided it was the white knuckle grip he put on his glass at the mention of women. His must have been bad. If misery really does love company I was trying to make him seem not so alone.
    Frank lapsed into silence. I took the opportunity to soak up the surroundings inside Caesars. The variety of people in various types of dress surprised me, from couples in matching aloha wear to sequined dresses and tuxedos. After a few minutes I did notice that there were an inordinate amount of May-December couples like the one we saw when we first entered. Older men, much younger women. Hmm.
    “I hope you’re not planning on playing poker with your brother,” Frank offered.
    “Why not?” Did I look like a loser in cards as much as I did a loser in love?
    “Because your face is an open book. They’ll see the cards in your eyes.”
    “Okay, what was I thinking?”
    “You were wondering why so many rich old coots are walking around with gorgeous jailbait on their arms.”
    I deflated. And Ben had claimed I had a poker face. “Bingo,” I muttered.
    Frank continued. “And the answer is, each casino has a certain type that gravitates to it—either by the casino’s design or the natural order of things. Most of these are call girls, pro or amateur.”
    “Amateur call girl?”
    “Any woman who’ll use sex to get money is a call girl.”
    Hmm. To call his tone bitter would have been generous. At least one of Frank’s secrets definitely involved a woman.
    Frank drained his glass again. The bartender shook her head when he asked for another. “Frank, don’t do this,” she said as she walked by. He tapped her arm and she nodded slightly, pouring him another. He didn’t act drunk to me, but he was a muscular guy, so he could probably withstand a few extra drinks without showing it. I, on the other hand, was already feeling a little looser just halfway through my first glass of vino. I’d better watch it.
    “So what are you going to do in Vegas while your brother loses his shirt?”
    “Stand by his chair at the tournament I guess and make sure he keeps it.”
    Frank shook his head. “They won’t let you stand by any chair, honey.”
    “Why not?”
    “You might give other players signals. You might give your brother a signal.”
    “But I don’t know poker!”
    “They don’t know that. Besides, that’s just what you say and all poker players are liars.”
    “Then what am I going to do while Ben’s at the tournament?” I asked myself more than Frank.
    “What tournament?”
    “Some big one,” I mused. “Let me see if I can remember, it’s some Hawaiian