From my office high above the gambling floor at Par Impar, the Carribean resort I owned, I looked down over the mortals, each of them playing their luck or lack of it. My staff, all dressed in silk shirts the same blue as the ocean around my beaches, circulated among them. Some offered refreshments. Others dealt cards and spun wheels. All of them unified in a single purpose, to make every patron to my resort feel as if they’re the luckiest person in the world–win or lose.
I stood and stretched, having spent far too many hours in the office. I adjusted the gold wrap skirt around my waist and slipped into gold strappy flats. A tasteful pair of gold dice hung on a chain around my neck, each inscribed with the resort’s logo. My black bikini woven through with metallic threads would be perfect to lounge by the beach. But first, a bit of work, the kind that I preferred.
Using the private elevator, I made my way down to the gambling floor and mingled among the people. Though men looked appreciatively at me as I passed, sometimes to the ire of the women with them (they weren’t getting lucky tonight), I ignored them for the most part. A young woman, her red hair clipped back, her cheeks freckled from the sun, sat at one of the quarter slot machines. She had the resort’s player’s card in the machine and she smiled as it chimed with a small win.
“Ooh,” she said, clamping her hands over her mouth. “I actually won something.”
“Did you think you wouldn’t?” I asked as I stopped, delighted by the joy radiating from her.
“I don’t often win, but I knew I had to give it a try,” she replied with a soft smile.
“There you go. Part of luck is taking action to make your own.” I pulled a small token, one that would guarantee her a modest payout that she would talk about for the rest of the year, and handed it to her. “Congratulations. Here. Have a free play on the house.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.” She tucked the token into the small beaded bag with the rest of her quarters.
“Make sure you play that one tonight. It might just be a winner.” I winked at her, and before she could say anything else, disappeared into the crowd. But not before I saw her put another perfectly ordinary quarter into the machine. Ahh, one not to squander her luck. Didn’t think so, and that made my gift all the better.
I paused by the bar and ordered a Bahama Mama, then zeroed in on a private pavillion by the ocean. My personal assistant, a mortal woman by the name of Minerva–I chuckled at that–already waited, ever efficient. Drink in hand, I opened the gate marked “private” and took the lounge chair next to her, setting my drink on the small table. “Okay, Minnie. We have a party to plan.”
“Yes, we do. So where shall we begin?”
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