PROLOGUE

SEVEN YEARS AGO

D ICE

“Have you decided when you’re going to come home to stay?” I looked at Debbie, the closest thing I’d ever had to a mother, over the rim of my coffee mug and shrugged. “You are welcome to stay in the guesthouse as long as you need to, Kenny.”

“That’s not supposed to be someone’s permanent home, hence the title guesthouse, ” I argued. “What happens if you have guests but no guesthouse?”

I laughed when Debbie frowned at me. As usual, she couldn’t hold it because she was much too pleasant of a person to stay angry for long.

“Well, since that’s a guesthouse and you’re part of the family, you should just move in here.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t like me as much if I was around all the time. Have you ever considered that?”

“We love you, and you’re part of our family whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Our origin story is unique, wouldn’t you say?” Debbie laughed, and I tossed out the threat I’d been using on her for almost as long as we’d known each other, “I’m going to call Dr. Phil and ask if he’ll have us on his show. We could make millions.”

“Or we could make asses of ourselves on national television,” Debbie retorted just like she always did, whether I was threatening her with Maury, Oprah, Dr. Phil, or my personal favorite - Jerry Springer. “It’s none of their business how we became a family, and I don’t need some television shrink trying to tell me I’m not right in the head.”

“ He’s not right in the head,” Chelle said as she breezed into the room. She stopped beside my chair and mussed my hair before she picked up my coffee cup and walked off.

“Hey! I just got that!”

“It is nice and hot. Thank you!”

“The only problem with me being part of your family is the fact that I’m no longer an only child. Sometimes, I miss those days.”

Debbie just shook her head because she knew I was lying. There was nothing to miss about my childhood and nothing about the Turner household that was even remotely kin to how I grew up. Debbie and Jeff’s kids took things for granted that I’d never been able to count on: electricity, running water, food, shelter, a bed with clean sheets, clean clothes, and shoes that fit. I’d had one or two of those things at the same time occasionally, but more often than not, at least a few on the list were always missing.

Here at the Turners’ home, there was always warmth, comfort, and food along with lots of smiles and laughter, especially now that their three daughters had started families of their own. As if they knew I was thinking about them, some of the kids started squealing in the front room, and I could tell by the trajectory of their voices that they were running down the hall.

“The girls are still sassy as ever,” I mused when I heard the women start laughing at something the children had done. Courtney, Chelle, and Carrie had grown into beautiful young women who had become loving wives and now mothers who doted on their children just like their parents had on them. “The kids are growing up too fast. I can’t keep up.”

“You should find a young woman to settle down with and have your own children, Kenny. The kids adore you, and I think you’d make a great father.”

“Sure because I had such a good example in my own father.” When Debbie looked at me with a furrowed brow, I shrugged and said, “What do I have to offer a woman anyway? Here’s my parole paperwork and a list of hopes and dreams?”

“You have yourself to offer along with that good heart of yours,” Debbie argued. “Love, honor, loyalty, and respect should be the basis of a relationship, not money.”

“If I learned one thing from my father, it would be that all of those things are well and good but money definitely helps.”

“Have you thought any more about looking for him?” Debbie asked just as my friends walked into the kitchen with her husband Jeff.

“You mean I’m not his father?” Jeff asked in mock outrage. “That’s it! I’m calling Maury!”

“Not you too,” Debbie groaned as she stood up and walked over to pull out a few more mugs. She said, “I was just asking Kenny if he was ready to start looking for his dad.”

“Are you?” When I shook my head, he chuckled and said, “Enough about that, Deb. We’re both content to pretend that he’s my child even if the DNA doesn’t match.”

“Do I smell cinnamon rolls?” Okie asked. He sniffed the air, and as Debbie passed him a mug of coffee, he asked, “Will you adopt me too?”

“I already have, sweetheart,” Debbie said with a warm smile before she handed Tank his coffee. “We’ve officially adopted both of you.”

“Technically, I still have parents, they’re just not interested in having anything to do with me,” Tank said as he took a sip of coffee and watched as Debbie pulled a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls out of the oven before he tacked on, “Actually, that’s a lie. I’m an orphan that needs a home.”

“You guys can’t live at that place in Tenillo forever, can you?” Jeff asked as he sat down at the table. Okie and Tank also sat at the table, but neither of them took their eyes off Debbie as she slathered the hot bread with homemade icing. “Won’t they need room for others at some point?”

“Pop swears we can stay as long as we want, but I’m ready to leave,” Tank said.

“I guess I’ve got to go home sometime,” Okie said before he took a sip of his coffee. He shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I knew he’d been trying to figure out a solution to his family’s problems.

“All of you should move to Vegas,” Debbie suggested as she set a glass baking dish on the trivets in the middle of the table. She took a plate off the stack she’d left on the table earlier and scooped out a cinnamon roll before she handed it to her husband. As she served the rest of us, she said, “You’re all welcome to stay here as long as you need. We’ve got plenty of tattoo shops, and I’m sure all of you could have jobs within a week with your knowledge and experience.”

“If you don’t want to do that, I can always use help at one of the dealerships,” Jeff said as he cut off a piece of roll. He held it up and blew on it a few times before he added, “You’re pretty charismatic guys. You’d make great salesmen.”

“I’m not cut out for sales,” Okie said with a grimace.

“I’m going to stick with tattooing, although I’d really like to find an established shop where I can settle in. The one in Tenillo isn’t run very well. Half the time, Dice and I are trying our hardest not to just kill the owner and tell God he ran away.”

“Tank is right. That man has no business sense at all,” I agreed.

“You’ve got your business degree. Why don’t you open a shop of your own?” Jeff asked.

“That would be great, Kenny!” Debbie exclaimed as she sat down next to her husband. “I can help you find a great space for it. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a listing near the . . .”

“It takes an awful lot of money to open a shop,” Tank interrupted. “I don’t think either of us is quite there yet.”

“We can help with that,” Jeff offered.

“I’m not taking your money,” I said firmly.

“Make us partners,” Jeff suggested. “You can gradually buy us out . . . or not. No pressure.”

“You’ve already done more than enough for me,” I argued. “Considering how we met, I’d say you’ve done way too much.”

I could have kicked myself for bringing up such a sensitive topic because thoughts of that time in our lives made Jeff very uncomfortable. He broke the tension by asking Debbie, “Did you give him that mail?”

“Oh!” Debbie said before she hopped up and went to the counter toward the wooden box where she kept her mail and bills she needed to pay. She sorted through the stack and then brought an envelope back to the table with her. “I’m not sure why this came here since you changed your address when you got out of prison.”

“I don’t know,” I said as I looked down at the envelope. I started ripping it open as I said, “It’s probably junk anyway.”

Tank and Okie steered the conversation back to their impending adoption between compliments about the cinnamon rolls, but their voices faded as I read and then reread the words on the page.

I snapped out of my stupor when Debbie reached across the table and put her hand on my arm. “What’s wrong, Kenny? All the color has drained from your face.”

I swallowed hard before I said, “I guess I don’t have to look for my dad anymore.”

“Why? What does it say?” Debbie asked. She took the paper I handed her, and Jeff leaned closer so he could read it too. I could see the shock on their faces when they realized what they were reading, and when Debbie looked up at me, she said, “I had no idea . . . I never thought . . . I’m so sorry, Kenny.”

“What is it?” Tank asked.

“My dad died. Since there wasn’t anyone around to claim his body, the county cremated him. Somehow, they figured out how to find me and want me to come get his ashes and his things.” I laughed bitterly before I said, “Knowing him, he didn’t have anything of value because he would have already pawned it off so he could get back to the tables.”

“I’m so sorry, Kenny,” Debbie said with tears in her eyes. “Would you like me to go with you?”

“You’ve got a lot of things to do to get ready for Christmas, Deb. I can go take care of this tomorrow and . . .”

“We’ll go with him,” Tank assured her. “He won’t be alone.”

Debbie swiped her tears away and said, “Good. That’s good.” She sniffed and looked at me before she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I promise,” I assured her as I reached out and took her hand. “He wasn’t there when I needed him, but you were, and that’s what’s important to me.”

“I probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” Debbie said sadly. Jeff put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side. She smiled at him before she looked back at me. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to our family.”

“You’ve been better parents to me than my father ever was,” I said sadly. “I’m not sure why I’m so upset that he’s gone. I guess I always imagined that he’d get his shit together and become a decent human.”

“You’ll always have us, son. I know it’s not the same but . . .”

“No, it’s not the same. It’s better.”

◆◆◆

“What do you want to do now?” Tank asked as we walked through the door into the bright sunshine.

We stopped on the top step to give our eyes a second to adjust, and Okie asked, “What’s in the envelope?”

I shook the large manilla envelope a few times and laughed when I heard change jingling inside. “I guess it’s my inheritance.”

“Want me to look through it for you?” Okie offered.

“No, but I do think I’d like a drink before I do anything else,” I told him.

Tank pretended to be confused for a few seconds before he asked, “Is there anywhere to get a drink at this time of day?”

“I don’t know. From what I understand, it’s a pretty tame place,” Okie joked.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said as I started walking down the steps. “Since today is all about my father, we should go to his favorite place.”

It didn’t take us long to get there since I knew the back roads that would help us avoid the tourist traffic. When we pulled up, it almost felt like coming home, probably because I’d spent the majority of my childhood either inside the bar and casino or out here in the parking lot asleep in the car.

My dad had been kicked out of almost every casino on the Strip at one time or another but had always been on his best behavior at this one. I’d watched it gradually start to crumble over the years until it was purchased by a family from New York, and, if the rumors were true, that family had mob connections. That didn’t really bother me since I’d met criminals from all walks of life through my childhood and then my stint in prison, and besides, I planned on being on my best behavior in the casino, too, if I could make myself walk inside.

I had avoided gambling my entire life which made the nickname my first cellmate had given me all the more ironic. He called me “Dice” just because I’d grown up in Las Vegas, and unfortunately, the name caught on. I had a feeling that most of the men in my MC didn’t know my real name, but then again, there were a few of them whose name I wasn’t exactly sure of either.

It wasn’t as hard to go inside as I thought it would be, probably because I was flanked by two men I trusted with my life. However, the second I heard the sounds of the casino, I felt chills go down my spine.

“It shouldn’t take me long to lose whatever is inside this envelope,” I told my friends. “God knows gambling hasn’t been kind to my family.”

“I have to ask,” Tank said as he looked down at the box I was holding beneath my arm. “What are you going to do with him? Can you take him home in your carry-on or . . .”

“I’m going to spread his ashes somewhere here, I guess. I’m not taking them back to Texas.” I chuckled and said, “If I was the kind to believe in that sort of shit, I would say that taking him away from Las Vegas would guarantee that my father would haunt my ass for the rest of my days.”

“What are you gonna play?” Okie asked.

“Fuck it. I’m Dice, so I guess I’m playing craps.”

I led the way to the nearest craps table and took a stool before I set the box of my father’s ashes on the edge of the table. It didn’t take but a second to open the envelope, and I shook the contents into my hand.

“There you go guys. My inheritance in all its glory. Eighty-seven cents and a voucher.”

“Play it,” Tank said with a snort. “Might make enough to buy us dinner.”

“Minimum bet is a dollar,” the boxman said with a bored look. “I’ll need you to remove that item from the table before we can proceed.”

“Can he sit there for one throw?” I asked, feeling nostalgic for some reason. “It’s my dad’s ashes. He was a regular here.”

“Oh, um . . .”

“You might have known him,” I said, studying the older man. “Charlie Hawkes?”

“Charlie was your father?” When I nodded, the man sighed and said, “Just put the box on the seat beside you.”

I looked at the card I held in my hand and shrugged before I handed it over. “I don’t know how much is on it, and I don’t care. Put it all on twelve.”

The boxman ran the card and then looked up at me in shock before he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Fuck it.”

He lifted his arm, and within just a few seconds, another man came over to the table. They had a hushed conversation, and then he stepped off to the side.

“What are we waiting on?”

“Verification,” the boxman explained. Less than a minute later, the security man nodded and the boxman selected an array of chips from the stacks in front of him. He set a light blue, a dark blue, four orange chips, and three yellow chips on the table in front of me. I looked down at them and then back up at him when he asked, “Are you sure?”

I shrugged again and slid the chips onto my chosen number before I repeated, “Fuck it.”

The stickman slid the dice toward the end of the table where a young man was waiting for his turn to roll, and then the dice were in play.

“Twelve,” the stickman announced.

The people around the table went wild, and Tank slapped me on the shoulder before he said, “I guess you can buy us dinner after all!”

“I guess I can.”

“Please come with me, sir,” the attendant directed before he motioned toward the back of the casino.

“Fuck! We didn’t do a damn thing . . .”

“It’s okay, Tank. This is protocol.”

“Protocol? Are we being arrested or what?”

“Your chips, sir,” the boxman said as he slid a tray of chips across the table toward me.

I picked up the box of my father’s ashes, set the tray of chips on top of it, and looked at my friends.

“That tray is full of light blue chips, Dice.”

“I’m aware of that, Okie.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tank asked.

“That means my dad finally got his dream payout.”