Josslyn understands why Edwin obsesses over a good hand of cards. An invisible man can overturn luck and chance in Nevada's Paradise. In fact, an invisible man can do a hell of a lot of damage in Las Vegas. Edwin practically knows every secret code to each million-dollar vault lining the Vegas strip. If he were to round up a heist, he'd put Danny Ocean to shame. But he'd rather be standing behind Josslyn, flushing his palms against the ledge of the poker table as he whispers into her ears how to win the next million-dollar pot. They are the poker room's Bonnie and Clyde and although Josslyn's never enjoyed the gambling lifestyle, she can't deny that the rush is exhilarating. So when ever her funds are running low, she sits at a table with high limits, nestled in between men with twice as much money; ready to amuse themselves by intimidating her into losing. At 5'5" and a pretty baby face, she's a force of reckoning they'd least expect to find. And everything was going as planned until a disheveled mysterious man came into the game.

His shoulder length hair reminded her of Scotch-Brite stainless steal scrubbers. She's sure he's near 6 foot tall with a menacing wrestler build. Those sunglasses didn't hide the big brown wart that sits right above his left eye. Bruised patches line his jaw and his bottom lip swells like that of a Sangrila monkey. He looked beat up, deformed by the small hunch on his back which would explain why Edwin nicknamed him after Victor Hugo's Quasimodo. But Josslyn knows better, this Quasimodo is far from a gentle giant.

Josslyn shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. Quasimodo could have sat anywhere, but chooses to sit directly across from her, hell, he's probably eye-fυcking her right now. Leaving isn't an option at this point, she's simply invested too much time and her cards are only getting better by each draw. One million may sound a lot but after transaction fees and taxes, she'd be lucky to bring home half of that - which was more than enough but not according to Edwin. In 'Go big or go home' Edwin always prefers the former and this doesn't sit well with Josslyn. He pushes the limits too far, at times risking all they have. But she knows he relishes in each glorious victory, after all, your opponents can't win when they've got no poker faces to begin with.

The clock struck midnight and Josslyn had sucked nearly every player dry out of cash. Quasimodo though, was simply toying with her.

"All in," said Edwin.

She hesitates and mentally scolds him. No, I'm not giving up my entire pot because you want to play reckless. She wonders if Edwin is aware of how uncomfortable Quasimodo is making her feel.

"Three Jacks, one five and Asian-Not-So-Persuasion over there's got the other five he needs."

Josslyn withholds laughing. Edwin's got names for everyone sitting at the table. She narrows her eyes; Quasimodo's got three of a kind.

Glancing at her cards again, she knows her three Kings are higher ranking. She needs a ten to get a full house. She just has to bait him into giving her his entire pot, which at the current moment is worth two million dollars.

Shoving her entire pot toward center of the table, she smirks with trepidation. She straightens her spine to exude fake confidence.

A bone-chilling smile crawls on Quasimodo's face, sending shivers down her spine, unnerving her fragile state of confidence. He leans back onto the chair, and drums his fingers on the bright green felt lining the surface to the poker table. Where his eyes are resting, Josslyn doesn't know but she can't help feeling completely naked. He sits up and smirks. "You're toying with me, Red. A gal like you shouldn't be playing with big boys like me. I could chew you up and spit you out alive."

Josslyn gulps.

"He's trying to intimidate you." Edwin speaks into her ear.

He's not trying anymore. He is! "Make your damn call, I don't got all night."

The smirk rips across his face and Josslyn knows his next move is purely for amusement. "All in." He swipes the chips toward the center of the table, sending chips into her face.

The dealer pulls the first card from the batch and lay it face up. A three Spades.

Quasimodo begins sweating profusely. He licks it and immediately spits it out. Josslyn narrows her eyes; instant gratification appears to taste bitter. He rises off the chair and begins pacing back and forth, eying the stack of card and cursing under his breath. Josslyn brushes her nose as she catches whim of his scent, methamphetamine.

The second card flips over, revealing a ten heart. The small crowd huddling the table gasp as Josslyn wins a mountain of chips worth 4.2 million.

"No!" Quasimodo slams both fists into the table, hurling chips into the air. "You stay your ass here girlie." He points a finger at her face. "I'm getting more chips and I'm winning my money back."

Josslyn glances helplessly at the dealer who didn't dare contend with this man. She rises to her feet to meet his tinted square shades.

"I'm done with your intimidation." She packs up her chips and begins heading toward the cashier.

"Josslyn." Edwin interrupts her. "Don't go yet. Don't take this man's money." Edwin's voice trembles with caution.

Hell no! It's late, she's tired of being Edwin's gambling puppet, and the weeklong trip in Vegas has worn her thin. She's ready to go back to Oregon.

"Where do you think you're going?" Quasimodo's voice echoes through the poker room. "Haven't you heard of sportsmanship? You think you can just up and leave after stealing my money?" He slurs his words.

"Joss!" Edwin yells after her. "I made a mistake. Appease him, do not take this man's mo -"

"No!" Josslyn turns toward both of them. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm done playing around!"

"Give me back my money, you bitch!" Two security guards rush toward Quasimodo, pinning his face onto the felt of the table. "I'm just a little tipsy from all the fun, boys." Quasimodo  huffs with insouciance. He attempts to rise up. "I'm a nice guy, really. But you've got to tap Red over there." He points at Josslyn. "She's cheating."

Josslyn gasps, how does he know?

"She's been nodding and talking and shaking her head like she's got a wire right in her ear. She's cheating, I tell ya! Give me back my fucking money, you fucking cheater!"

Josslyn glares a the fuming man and for the strangest reason, she hears Wyatt's voice. "Can I trust you?"

"No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I am in love with an invisible man."

Josslyn clutches the chips against her chest. "No." She lies, "I would never cheat."

"Sorry about this Miss, seems like this guy's been drinking a little bit too much." The bulky security guard directs his attention on Quasimodo, his dark tinted arm contrast with Quasimodo's glowing red face. "How do you expect to win when you drunk, man? Show the lady a little respect."

Josslyn nods as they take him toward the back of the casino for questioning. She shuns from the gawking eyes and heads toward the cashier, caring less whether Edwin follows.

~~~

Edwin squeezes past the heavy door before it could shut him out of the employee office. Lining the walls are state notices, employment regulations, and aerial posters of the Vegas strip. Seven ceramic cups were lined up neatly on a desk that's situated in a corner, each housing black and blue pens. An oblong wooden table sprawl the middle of the small suffocating windowless room. Crossing his arms, Edwin leans against the desk and observes Quasimodo.

"Why the fuck are you keeping me here?" Quasimodo huffs.

"The sooner you sober up, the sooner you get to go home, Phillip." The first security guard sits behind the desk, leaning back onto the swivel chair. Edwin takes note of his name tag, Terrell James.

"I am sober." Phillip slurs. "Besides, where the fuck is home? My Father kicked me out months ago, remember? Or are you fucking mocking me? Don't you fucking mock me!" Phillip stands on his feet and punches the table, almost breaking all its legs.

Edwin stares in horror. It doesn't take much for him to realize Phillip is emotionally unstable. This could get really bad, really fast.

"Sit down!" A second security guard bearing a plate titled John Cromwell walks through the doors. He sits in front of Phillip.

"Nobody's making fun of your fucked up situation. I told you to clean up your act, Phillip Jr. Rubin. You're a 40-year-old man! You were supposed to run all of Treasure Island with your father - right here on this strip! You gave it all up gambling your savings away, stinking and sweating in heroin, meth, cocaine, and fucking up with prostitυtes of every shape, size, and color under the rainbow, it's only a matter time you were kicked out of the gambling business. You can't keep coming back in here, causing ruckus; picking on innocent women -"

"She ain't fucking innocent, I tell ya! She stole my money."

"You shouldn't be playing when you can't even read you own fucking cards!"

"I had three Jacks and a five, man, she knew my cards! You can't call 'All In' without a streak of sweat on your fucking brow."

Terrell snickers, "C'mon Phil, she just read you too well. What are you going to do to an innocent woman?"

"I tell you what I'll do." Phillip licks his lips. "I lick her up like red velvet ice cream. I've always loved a tasty Red Head. I want a piece of those creamy white lips - you know what lips I'm talking about." He snickers a bone chilling laughter. "You know boys, she shouldn't have left that poker table, I just wanted to fool around a little bit longer, get some of my money back, feel whole again, but I'm glad she cheated me. Now I get to go back and claim what I lost." Phillip rises off the chair.

Edwin clenches his fist and his breath quickened.

"And when I find her - which I will - I'll pin her face down, rip those red strands off her pretty little head then I'll pummel her against her will - like this." He begins to hump the desk.

Whoosh!

A jar full of pencils hurl toward Phillip, colliding against his temple and knocking him onto the ground.

"What the!" Both security guards jumps backward, flushing against the walls as they witness six additional jars fly off the desk, striking Phil's head as shards of ceramic cut into his forehead. The table flips over, spilling hot coffee onto Phillip's face, he shrieks in pain as the swivel chair rises into midair and begins to pummel his body into the cold concrete floor. The chair flings into the far corner of the room and Phillip's face becomes a poltergeist's bloody punching bag.

The guards rush out of the room, yelling hysterically, hands raised in a state of hallelujah, Jesus help us! Phillip follows suit, clamping his broken nose as he briskly limps toward the exit of the Bellagio. Edwin follows him to the door, pleased that Phillip doesn't look back in fear of meeting his maker.

~~~

Josslyn turns off the television to listen for Edwin. It's been four hours since she left the poker game and it just never feels right when he's been gone too long - even when she doesn't want to deal with him. She hasn't excused him for what he did to her downstairs. How could he have expected her to just put up with that ogling bastard? She walks toward the door, props herself against it, and rubs the bottom of her foot against the lush premium gray carpet.

"Josslyn."

She jumps and widens the door for Edwin.

"I need you to pack up immediately. We leave at dawn," Edwin demands.

"Leave where?"

"Home."

"I thought you wanted to stay longer."

"Plans change."

She gulps, "what's wrong?"

Silence.

"I'll tell you later. Pack up and book the plane ticket." Edwin doesn't want to frighten her but he doesn't want to lie either. He needed her composed but vigilant and he's currently struggling to convey equilibrium between the two.

Josslyn scoffs with annoyance. "You come back after four hours, you don't apologize for what you put me through, then you make demands without giving me a simple what, if or why. Edwin, I am up to here with your controlling, oppressive attitude!"

"I don't need you to argue with me. I need you to follow directions, like when I tell you not to leave the poker table!"

Josslyn pushes back tears. "Is that all I am to you, a puppet to suffice your vice? So that you can live vicariously through me?"

"Don't push me, Josslyn."

"That's not fair Edwin! I can put up with-with taking out the trash, eating dinner alone, fixing broken pipes and toilets, not to mention the years of torture I've endured as a little girl but you shouldn't force me to play just so you can feel good about beating them at their own game!"

"Dammit Joss, stop it!" Edwin pants wildly. "Do you know how much it hurts me? I can't even be man enough to fix a fυcking toilet!" He punches his chest. "You think I enjoy putting you in between those men, watching them ogle the woman I love? No! I hate it! I dread it! But this is my fυcking curse, I can't change that but I can use it to exploit the system's weakness in order to ensure that you never go hungry, that you'll never have to suffer a nine to five job. This is the only thing I can ever do for you, Josslyn. It's the only thing I can ever be proud of. No, it doesn't excuse what I did to you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry that I put you through this but you've got to listen to me when it's life or death! I could never forgive myself if I've put you in danger."

Josslyn gasps. "Danger? What danger?"

Another silence.

"Edwin, what happened? Tell me!" She balls her fist.

Edwin sits on the edge of the bed. He's spent the last three hours cursing at what he's allowed to happen. "Quasimodo is linked with the Treasure Island tycoon. I don't know the specifics but Phillip, as they call him, is an ill-tempered, mentally sadistic fυcked up bastard that seems to have just lost his fortune. The two million he lost to you may have been his last. Josslyn, this man looks like a hobo who hasn't showered in three months but he's got power and access. The guards are looking out for him, an order I'm sure is coming from the top." Edwin gulps. "I need you to be very vigilant and very cautious for the next few weeks."

Josslyn flushes against the television. "H-how do you know all this? How do you know he'll come after me?"

"He won't. I made sure of that and I will do everything in my power to protect you but - "

"You? Protect me?"Josslyn scoffs and shakes her head. She glares in the direction of his voice. "You?"

"Don't. Don't Josslyn." Edwin begs. "It'll break my heart."

"No! I want to know right now how you expect to protect me! Tell me, how do you expect to protect someone you can't even touch? You're invisible! I can't expect anything from you least of all an ounce of protection! It's me who has to protect you! I live this lie so that I can prevent you from discovery. I -"

"Do you want me out of your life?" Edwin immediately regrets the question. He runs up to her. "Don't answer that." He sinks her into a deep passionate kiss before she could answer.

Josslyn gasps as she felt tangible fingers caress her cheeks. His soft lips envelop hers as his tongue dances elegantly in her mouth. She moans and her sex clenches hard as she feels for a face that has yet to fully form. Knees buckling, heart racing, she claws empty air, wanting to strip him naked and ride out her anger as she pins his body on the bed.

He instantly vanishes.

She stands there, gasping for air, panting hard, eyes closed, and hungrily swallows the remnants of his saliva, a last ditch effort to save the moisture of his tongue still lingering in her mouth.

"Stop me again," she pleads.

"That and so much more, Honey. I love you. Don't doubt me. I died protecting you."

***

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Fun Fact:

Phillip was originally named Phil. When I researched Treasure Island Resort and Casino, I was shocked to discover that the actual owner of the Casino is called Phil Ruffin. Perhaps I should go to Vegas...I'm feeling lucky.