As Edward swung the Volvo off the highway into Seattle's core, he realized it had been at least a year since he'd made the trip to the big city. The last time had been for a concert, but for which concert he could not remember. Perhaps it was that atrocious hip-hop crap that Emmett had insisted upon for his birthday last year? Seattle still reeked of a large city struggling to be 'small town' to him, a clashing of post-grunge's inferior music scene and the corporate folk with their sense of chic superiority. It was difficult to determine who was winning.

The new casino Jasper had mentioned was precisely where he'd said it was, next to the run-down Pizza Hut they'd often frequented in their earlier teen years, back when obtaining a driver's licence was an automatic reason to drive long distances and blow obscene amounts of money on gasoline for the bragging rights of having the ability to do so. The bright neon lights of the Shimmering Oasis Casino were nauseating, and Edward shook his head, bemoaning the blatant and sad attempt to mimic the Vegas strip. But for his purposes, the Shimmering Oasis would have to do. Slipping the huge envelope of greenbacks into his jacket pocket, he held his head up high and strolled inside the building.

Edward was immediately aware of several key facts about the Shimmering Oasis. First, the place was crawling with undercover security that were about as inconspicuous asParis Hilton's crotch exiting a club. Second, the blinking slot machines and seniors - at two thirty in the morning! - spoke to something terribly disturbing given the current state of the economy. Third, the tacky decor was what he imagined Donald Trump would dream up while tripping on acid and piss-drunk on Cristal, tossed in a blender with technicolor vomit. Edward shuddered and began meandering his way through the facilities, choosing his poison.

An elderly woman was seated at a blackjack table on his right, muttering about whether or not to fold or stay; glancing at the cards on the table, Edward subtly whispered for her to do the latter. Strangely, she listened, and squealed when her dealer promptly busted a card flip later. A young brunette agonizing over the roulette table prompted Edward to tell her to 'go black'; her surprised laughter a minute later indicated he'd read the casino employee well. He was on a roll, it seemed...

Roll... Craps! Of course!

Edward scanned the floor and located the craps set-up near the northwest corner, the table surrounded by four people dressed in formal attire. Business suits out for a night of partying on the company dole, he wagered. One of the women, a gorgeous young brunette with warm brown eyes and a body hugged tightly by a slinky black cocktail dress, turned towards him and his heart stopped for a moment. Her resemblance to Bella was uncanny. To Edward, it was a sign he'd chosen well, and he hurried towards the table now, redirecting his focus to the task at hand.

One of the suits, a tall blonde with impossibly perfect teeth and a frown stepped away from the dice, having obviously blown his roll. The dealer called out for a new roller and without hesitation, Edward withdrew the envelope of cash and emptied it onto the table, yielding several shocked whistles as he reached for the dice. A second attendant approached, verifying the count as the blonde in the suit swigged a martini, shaking his head in disbelief at the twenty-something with the messy hair, faded jeans and leather jacket.

"Nine thousand, one hundred and four. I counted it twice," Edward said, distracted from an intelligent comment by the Bella clone, who was now eyeing him in a way reminiscent of his dream.

"I like how you operate, handsome. What's your name?" Bella clone asked, leaning towards him, reeking of vodka.

"Anna, watch it," blonde suit guy warned, possessively wrapping his arm around her waist.

"You feeling lucky, hot stuff?" Anna asked, her words slurring slightly.

"I'm guided by a force much greater than luck," Edward replied, cursing Anna's taken status and tossing the dice onto the table with his eyes closed.

Come on, come on... This has to work out...

"Seven! A winner!"

Edward opened his eyes to the dealer dishing out a rather large stack of chips, to the cheers of the two suits and their attractive female companions, all in awe of the lucky kid in the beaten up clothes. Edward caught a twinge of jealousy in the eyes of the blonde guy, bitter perhaps that he'd lost his cash in front of the lovely Anna only to watch her leer at a kid who obviously did not have the money and prestige he possessed.

"There you go sir, eighteen thousand, two hundred and eight dollars," the dealer said, counting the last chip out.

Edward stared at the mix of cash and chips, his eyes widening. He'd never had this much money in his entire life. He could leave right now, deposit the nine grand for the store and have a serious party, possibly involving a down payment on that piano he'd been eyeing for a year now. But in his mind, he saw the schematics for the conversion of Velvet to Virgin and Carlisle's face floated into mind as well. In that instant, Edward knew what he had to do.

"Let it ride," he said quietly.

Anna clapped her hands excitedly, far too drunk to manage much more, as the blonde guy's jaw dropped, "That's an eighteen thousand dollar bet, kid. Are you high or something?"

Edward shook his head, "Not at the moment. But I know only one thing: if I win this roll, I will save the place I work, spare my father a life of retail misery and help tell a corporation to stick it, thus striking a blow at the evils of corporate America and its ever-widening gap between the haves and have-nots."

A moment passed. The corporate suits seemed torn between confusion and anger at the implication that their world was somehow a negative. All of them except for Anna the Bella clone, who was staring at the chips and counting how many there were of each colour.

"... And I'll buy us all a round at the bar," Edward added.

Cheers broke out around the table, against which Anna stumbled, giggling as her hand accidentally grazed the crotch of Edward's jeans. If she were sober, he would have been far more aroused by this accidental contact. But Bella had more class than such severe public intoxication. Taking the dice into his hand, he kissed them and began to shake his fist.

"Carlisle... This one's for you, man."

He closed his eyes and released the cubes, waiting for the reaction of those around him. The silence that followed, brief or not, scared him.

"Two. Craps."

Edward opened his eyes sadly and watched the dealer claim his money - no, the store's money - noting the blonde guy's smug smile from the corner of his eye. Anna frowned, stumbling to lean against her now much wealthier beau.

"You used to be cute," she murmured, pouting as the last of the bills were claimed.

"You used to have nine thousand bucks," the other suited guy cracked off, running a hand through his wavy jet-black hair as his redhead date pulled him away.

Edward shrugged, stunned, and walked away slowly, trying to remain composed. An empty quarter slot machine beckoned him and he sat down, popping in a coin absently. He'd lost the night's deposit. The deposit for the best night they'd had in weeks. But what was worse was knowing he'd failed to save Velvet from a fate worse than foreclosure. He pulled the lever, winning a few dollars and smiled wanly. He pumped a second quarter into the slot. Maybe Carlisle wouldn't be that angry if he knew why he'd driven three hours away to gamble the deposit. He'd had the store's best interests at heart. Maybe...

Maybe Carlisle will shove his foot up my ass and boot me to Canada in a rage. And rightfully so.

The second spin lost. Edward fed the machine another quarter. It was strangely calming and conducive to thinking. Maybe he could somehow win back the deposit on the slots. Maybe tonight craps wasn't his game. Yeah... He just had to keep pulling the lever... Pulling and feeding...

Five hours and seventy dollars' winnings later, Edward sat in the count-out office, staring at the empty safe in the corner. In his hand was a nearly-finished joint, from which he now took a very long drag. He flipped quarters into the air, landing them back into his complimentary casino bucket, and reached for the now near-empty bottle of gin. Taking a swig, he sat it down, screwed the cap back on, and stubbed out the roach in his hand.

"I wonder if I'll be held responsible for this?" he mumbled, most definitely intoxicated.

Heading out the back door, locking it behind him, he nearly collided with Jasper, who'd just parked his ancient Honda Civic in the back drive. Jasper smoothed his Ramones t-shirt and rumpled his blonde locks, glancing at Edward's disheveled appearance.

"Edward, what the hell -"

"I had a strange night," Edward replied absently, shaking the bucket, "I checked out the casino in Seattle you told me about."

"Ooh!" Edward heard from behind him, turning to see Emmett bouncing up towards him, "Did you win?"

"No. No, I most definitely did not win. So if you ever wondered if it was nice knowing you, believe me when I say it was. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Edward beelined for the Volvo, suddenly craving a taquito from the 7-11 down the road. Time to sober up in anticipation of facing the music, he mused. Jasper and Emmett followed close behind, confusion and fear clouding their faces.

"Edward, what did you do? How much did you blow?" Jasper asked.

"Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly!" Edward called out, slamming the door to the car and gunning the engine, proud that his obsessive reading of his Bartlett's had proven worthwhile after all.

"Shit!" Jasper cursed, watching Edward pull out of the lot and speed down the road, the Volvo wavering slightly.

"What do you mean, Jasper? What's going on? I'm lost" Emmett asked, following Jasper around to the front of the building.

Jasper sighed, "What else is new Emmett? Okay, I'll lay it out for you: Edward doesn't have money, last I checked, and Carlisle let him close last night."

"So?"

Jasper glared at Emmett, wishing his lovable but often dense friend paid as much attention to school as he did to hip-hop and metal.

"OH!" Emmett exclaimed, finally catching on, "I guess he didn't live up to the full responsibility of his new position as closer."

"Um, no, no he didn't..." Jasper's voice trailed away as a very familiar black Jetta swung into the lot.

"So how much do you think he lost -"

"Shut up, shut up!" Jasper muttered, nodding his head at Carlisle's approaching form.

Goddamn Edward... What did you have to go and gamble the deposit for? You don't even like casinos! Jesus, and now Emm and I are going to hear the never-ending fallout of the wrath of Carlisle...

The handsome man with the overgrown blonde locks approached, his white dress shirt and black slacks slightly wrinkled, typical of his semi-revolt against his retail existence. Once upon a time, Carlisle had aimed to be a musician, a guitarist. He'd abandoned that dream ten years ago, opting for the financial security of managing a record store in Forks, figuring he could at least obsess over music for money somehow. He reminded Jasper of John Cusack in High Fidelity in many ways, including his failures with women. His wife had left him for another woman, a bull-dyke named Susan, and his last girlfriend had thrown him out with a gun to his head. Carlisle nodded slightly to Jasper and Emmett, withdrawing a large set of keys from his pants pocket.

"I'm not even supposed to be here today," Carlisle grumbled, unlocking the front door.

"What's with the hostility Carlisle?" Emmett asked.

"Fucking Rick Astley day," he muttered, throwing the door open, "James' orders."

On cue, Emmett broke into song, "Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down!"

"I am in hell!" Carlisle exclaimed, storming inside. shaking his head at Emmett, who followed him in, still singing.

Jasper hung outside briefly, biting his lip nervously, "Carlisle, you have no idea..."