Goodbye, Mr. Ex: I've Remarried Mr. Right

Debra met his gaze steadily. "I don't know how to control the dice."

She couldn't do it like others, rolling the exact number Drake wanted.

His eyes narrowed. "You don't know how, yet you asked me to take you here?"

"But even so, I can still make money," Debra countered. "Didn't I help you make some just now?"

Drake's frown deepened, but she pressed on. "Sure, I can't control the dice, but I know human nature. No one can win forever by betting all on small or big while doubling the stakes each time. Eventually, they'll lose. It's inevitable." "And you think that's some brilliant strategy?" he scoffed. "If that idiot down there had any clue what he was doing, do you think you'd have been able to take him for that much?"

Debra accepted his scolding without protest.

"If you can't handle being a dealer, then get out of here. Stop wasting my time," Drake snapped, turning to the manager. "Take her back."

"Yes, boss." The manager nodded and turned to Debra. "Ms. Frazier, please come with me."

Debra muttered reluctantly, "Just because I don't know how to roll dice doesn't mean I'm useless. You run legitimate businesses in public. I refuse to believe there's nothing else I could handle."

Drake's eyes darkened, and his voice dropped low. "Oh, there are other things, but you'd better think carefully. In my world, there are only two kinds of jobs for women. Which do you think you're suited for?"

The implication hung heavy in the air. The work for women in his line of business was either what she had just done or what those women had done at that party earlier.

Drake had never respected women, probably because all the women he had encountered could only do such things.

But Debra was undeterred.

"Translator, investment advisor, financial planner, or pianist. You name it, and I can do it."

"Based on what? Your black box admission into Arcane Academy?"

"Looks like you've done your homework."

"You think that's impressive?"© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

"I earned my Master's degree in linguistics. That wasn't something I bought."

To prove her point, she scanned the crowd and spotted a passing foreign guest. Without hesitation, she began conversing fluently with him in the Phorian language.

The manager's eyes widened in surprise. "Boss, she's good."

Debra turned to Drake for approval, but his expression remained impassive.

To impress him, she walked over to a piano and sat down to play Clair de Lune. The note was flawless, and the tone was euphonic.

The manager was impressed. "We

pay our weekend pianists about

thousand dollars a month, and 30

they're not even half as good as she is.

BUMS

After a moment of silence, Drake went over and tapped on the piano. Debra stopped playing and asked, "Mr. Lowe, have you changed your mind?"

ne?

He replied There's another piano in the plaza. If you can draw a

thousand people to watch you play,

I'll consider keeping you around."

BUMS