Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 25 - The Prodigal Daughter

I leave the table to the pros with twenty minutes left and cash out with Lyla.  Her tip is generous and I gladly take the ten percent cut of my winnings.  

I’m still pumped and I direct the cab to the next hall on my list. 

“Sorry, miss,” the cabbie tells me, “There was a shooting there half an hour ago.  Anywhere else you want?” 

Now, I meant what I said when I almost pulled my Kung-Fu Panda moves on Bishop.  I may be naïve, but I’m not stupid.  It’s nearly twelve and nothing good happens after midnight.  Ever.  Period.  The end. 

Trust me – I know.  I’ve been part of “nothing good” for a long time now. 

“No,” I sit back, “Take me back to the Bellagio.” 

When I get to my suite, there’s a familiar presence in it. 

Clark. 

Who is singing “Take Me to the River” and dancing with the floor lamp. 

I will never understand him. 

“Hey,” I smile and throw down my purse, “What do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You,” Clark laughs and picks me up, twirling me around before he sets me down again, “Are the most infuriating, maddening, stubborn redeemer I have ever met.  And also the most fabulous,” he grins, “You did it – six thousand years and you are the first to find your true purpose.” 

“Huh?” I ask him, “I thought you’d be pretty mad at me.” 

“Whatever for?” he chuckles. 

“I damned two men, Clark,” I tell him, “Or did you not see that part?  I struck a deal with an arch-demon for those men’s souls.” 

“And did it very well,” he grins again and sits down on the sofa, “And forgave another innocent, and saved the Pope, and gave a tortured woman peace, and banished a demon and disarmed a bomb and saved the lives of four hundred and sixteen people,” he ticks off on his fingers. 

“Well,” I sit down, “Yeah.  But you were the one who kept warning me to keep my head down and my mouth shut.  And I so didn’t,” I remind him. 

He chuckles again, “What’s the best way to ensure that you do something, Claire?” he asks. 

“Tell me I can’t,” I say and then drop my mouth open, “You played me, Clark,” I accuse him, “You totally played me!” 

“I did not,” he says, still laughing, “I simply took that famous temper and intolerance of yours into account and encouraged you in some areas.  I knew at one point you would get tired of playing nice.  I only hoped it would be after you found out more about your gifts and purpose.” 

“So you hustled me,” I’m laughing at him now, “You don’t have to lie to hustle – in fact the best ones are based entirely in truth.” 

“Speaking of hustling,” he nods toward my cue case, “You doing a little of that yourself?” 

“No,” I say, “The invitational is in town and I just thought I’d get out and find a worthy opponent or two.  I’ve been here for three days and no one has contacted me yet.” 

“And?” he asks, “How much did you make?” 

“I took it easy,” I chuckle, “Only enough to cover the cost of the cue.  But I did get a VIP ticket to the invitational tomorrow.  Peter Olhausen wants to recruit me for some celebrity pool reality show like ‘Dancing with the Stars’ or something.”