Luck is a Lady Read online

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  Forbidden Publications

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  Copyright ©2006 by CJ England

  First published in 2006, 2006

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  LUCK IS A LADY

  A Forbidden Publications production, October 2006

  Forbidden Publications

  PO Box 153

  East Prairie, MO 63845

  www.forbiddenpublications.com

  LUCK IS A LADY

  Copyright © 2006 CJ ENGLAND

  Cover Art by CJ ENGLAND © 2006

  Edited by ROSIE BINDRA—No copyright assigned.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact the publisher via regular mail.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: Not Assigned

  Luck Is a Lady

  by

  CJ England

  I dedicate this book to my Nana whose love of gaming made me want to write this story.

  She really loved her slot machines and since she wanted a partner, she taught me how to play poker before I started school.

  God love you, Nana!

  I also want to acknowledge the Sterling Casino Lines of Port Canaveral, Florida for allowing me to come on board and pick the brains of all their staff.

  A special hug and thank you goes to Warren Delano, Pit Supervisor. He not only gave me loads of information, he showed me just how gracious and wonderfully kind a man could be. You will find a lot of yourself in my hero ... because I think you are one.

  Thank you!!!

  Prologue

  The pumpkin landed on the counter with a squishy thump, making Lara groan low in her throat. It was only the first of October and she was already tired of Halloween.

  She smiled sickly at the little boy who grinned, gap-toothed up at her. Lord, if she had a dollar for every pumpkin she'd hauled around in the last two weeks, she'd be a rich woman.

  Sighing, she made small talk with the child and sent him on his way, his arms wrapped carefully around a ten pound pumpkin.

  She turned back to her next customer and groaned. It was Mrs. Bombeck, the neighborhood busybody. Just what she needed. She was hot, tired, and fed up with this job anyway. Now she had to make nice with a woman she usually wanted to strangle on a regular basis.

  "Are you going to check me out?” came the cranky question.

  Lara pasted on a bright smile. “Of course ma'am. Right away.” Immediately she started ringing up the few items in the matron's cart.

  "That soap is on sale for ninety-nine cents,” the woman complained. She snatched it up and waved it under Lara's nose. “You overcharged me!"

  Lara bit off a hot reply. It was the same thing every time. Like the woman wanted someone to argue with. Was that what getting old alone did to a person? She suppressed a shudder and tried to be polite.

  "Just a minute, Mrs. Bombeck, I'll get a price check."

  The woman drew herself up to her full height and looked down her nose at Lara. “Are you calling me a liar?"

  Biting her tongue, Lara fought not to roll her eyes. “Its policy, ma'am. If I don't, I could get the difference taken out of my paycheck."

  "Well,” the crabby woman huffed. “I don't see why I should have to wait, just because you don't know the correct price."

  Lara opened her mouth to respond, but another voice interrupted.

  "Is there a problem here?"

  This time Lara did groan. Perfect. Now her manager was involved. “I just need a price check, Mr. Kravitz. On this soap."

  "She doesn't believe me about the price.” Mrs. Bombeck's eyes glinted now that she had a new audience. “I should know what it is. I've been coming to this store for years."

  "I tried to explain it was policy.” Lara spoke through gritted teeth.

  "Now, now,” Gerald Kravitz soothed. He turned to Lara. “I think this time, Ms. Kincade we can make an exception for such an old and valued customer.” He smiled at the now preening widow. “Give it to her for whatever she said it was."

  Lara snorted under her breath. “I'd like to give it to her, all right."

  "What was that, Ms. Kincade?"

  "Nothing, sir,” she mumbled in response as she rang up the soap. She didn't say anything else. She just let the manager sweet talk the old harridan. The woman was all smiles when she finally left the store, but Lara had a feeling she'd hear more about the episode later.

  She was proved right when she got back from a quick bathroom break. Kravitz took her aside and explained about customer relations and how to keep them happy. When Lara had protested she was just following his policy, he'd squeezed her hand and smiled greasily. Then he'd invited her out to dinner so he could talk about his policy for manager / employee relations.

  It was all she could do not to throw up on his shoes. He hadn't taken her flat 'no' gracefully. In fact he'd stormed away after telling her she would be sorry.

  Now, back at the register, Lara shuddered again. She'd been working here for almost six months. It wasn't a lot of money, but it was steady work and she didn't want to lose it. This was her eleventh job in less than four years. She was twenty six and had a degree in business administration, but no matter what she tried, it never worked out.

  She either got fired for something she didn't do, got laid off due to budget cuts or ran into some smarmy boss who thought because she was attractive, she put out. The whole thing was getting really old. If she didn't know better she'd say she was cursed.

  Lara tried to smile at her next guest as she began ringing up the items in her cart. She'd graduated top in her business class and here she was ringing up frozen okra. Life sucked.

  "Excuse me?"

  She turned to see a distinguished looking gentleman in a charcoal suit standing at the end of her register. “May I help you?"

  He smiled. “Are you Ms. Lara Kincade?"

  Lara narrowed her eyes. Now what? “Yes."

  The man handed her a card. “It is important I speak to you, Ms. Kincade."

  Lara frowned and stared down at the card. It was cream colored with fancy gold lettering.

  Bertram Martel

  ~ Esquire~

  Specializing in Inheritance and Probate Law

  "What's this about?"

  The man—Mr. Martel—smiled again. “Your future, Ms. Kincade."

  "Perhaps her future could begin with checking this lady out?” Gerald Kravitz said pointedly as he walked up behind her. His close-spaced eyes shifted between the two of them. “You do still work here, don't you, Ms. Kincade? Now isn't the time for flirting."

  Lara bit her lip to keep back angry words. “This is an attorney. He needs to speak to me."

  Gerald Kravitz pursed his mouth until his thin lips disappeared. “It will have to wait until your lunch hour. You've already wasted enough time as it is."
r />   "Now wait a—"

  "That will be fine,” the lawyer interjected stopping Lara's heated response. “And when is your lunch?"

  Tossing a narrow look at her boss, she answered him. “In about forty five minutes."

  He sketched a short bow. “I will return for you then."

  They all watched him walk away. With an angry glare at Lara, her manager slouched back to his office, but the customer she was waiting on sighed.

  "He is certainly a nice looking gentleman, but I hope it isn't bad news, honey."

  Lara stuffed the business card in her breast pocket. “So do I, ma'am. So do I."

  * * * *

  Bertram Martel was as good as his word. In exactly forty-four minutes he was waiting by the front door. Since Gerald had promised her she could go, he himself had to take over her register, pressing against her small body unnecessarily as he did so. His very touch almost made her lose her appetite.

  Fifteen minutes later she was sitting at an outside café with a roast beef sandwich and an ice tea. She stared at the attorney as she took her first bite.

  "So why are you here? What do you want with me?"

  Mr. Martel stirred sugar into his own ice tea as he watched the young woman across from him. She was as pretty as the picture her uncle had kept on his desk. Hair as brown as a mink and dark, doe eyes. Her face had that peaches and cream complexion just barely kissed by the sun. Beautiful.

  He wondered idly if all the men in Clark River, Idaho were blind. Why wasn't this girl married with a couple of boys of her own? That would have solved all the problems. He sighed. If he'd have been a generation younger...

  "Do you remember your Uncle Simon Kincade?"

  She nodded. “Yes ... he is my father's older brother.” Suddenly she remembered his card. “Oh no!"

  The lawyer nodded. “I'm sorry to inform you he passed away suddenly, last week."

  Lara felt tears sting her eyes. “What happened?"

  "He had a heart attack, my dear. I'm told he suffered very little."

  "I haven't seen him since I graduated from college. He gave me a fancy pen.” She gave a watery chuckle. “Thing didn't last a week. But I loved it. He was the only one there to watch. It meant the world to me."

  Mr. Martel smiled back at her. “It meant the world to him, too. Simon was a good man. And he loved you a lot. Kept an eye on you after your folks died."

  Her lip trembled. She hated to think about the accident that had claimed her parents and older brother. A drunk driver on a snowy mountain road had ended their lives and changed hers forever. “I should have stayed in better touch with him."

  Mr. Martel patted her hand. “He knew you had your own life. But he always watched out for you."

  "He loved to play games with us when we were kids. Poker, Crazy Eight, Kings on the Corner, any card game. But his favorite was Simon says ... of course."

  The silver haired man chuckled. “Gaming was something your uncle was very passionate about."

  Lara wiped her eyes. “He was one of the most competitive men I know. He told me once he went to Vegas at least four times a year."

  "Oh ... gambling was his one great love. He would bet on anything."

  Giggling, she nodded. “You're right. Once, when we were kids, he bet my brother which raindrop would slide down the window first."

  "And did he win?"

  "Of course. Even when my brother, Eric, spit on his drop to make it bigger and heavier, Uncle Simon still won. He said luck was always with him."

  They both paused, lost in their memories.

  Then Lara shook herself. “So you're here to tell me he died? Wouldn't a phone call have sufficed?"

  "Not is this case.” The lawyer shook his head. “As you know, your uncle lost his only son a year after your parents died."

  "My cousin, Sam. I remember."

  "Because of his death, your uncle had to have a new will drawn up."

  Lara's heart suddenly skipped a beat. “What are you saying?"

  "My dear,” Mr. Martel smiled. “I am here to inform you your uncle left everything to you."

  Her mouth opened and then shut again. “Me?” she squeaked.

  "You are the last of the Kincade line. There was literally no one else to leave it to, I checked."

  She blinked at that. “You almost sound like you didn't want me to inherit."

  "It's not that. As a lawyer I shouldn't care at all. But in this case, I had to be very careful. You see, the men in my family have always been the attorneys for your family. So I know the history behind your inheritance."

  "History?"

  He nodded. “Yes. I have read the original will of the first Kincade and it stipulates the inheritance shall always go to the oldest son."

  Lara suddenly got it. “Ahhh..."

  "Yes and with the deaths of the men in your family, you are the only one left. There was no clause in the original will to allow for that, so by state law it is all yours. Even the Lady, which was never supposed to belong to a woman again.

  Frowning, Lara set down her tea. “What are you talking about? What lady?"

  Sighing, Mr. Martel leaned back. “Before I go on, I must explain. Your late uncle's estate has shrunken dramatically. Simon was a great person and loved his games, but he was no businessman. Just before he died he sold all his properties."

  "All of them?” Lara shook her head. Her uncle had owned places all over the country. “What did he do with the money?"

  "He put it in a special account. He was determined to take care of The Lucky Lady."

  Lara's heart sank again. “So you've taken me to lunch to tell me I'm not going to inherit much because my uncle spent it all on some woman?"

  The attorney laughed, almost choking on his tea. “No, I'm sorry. I thought you knew. The Lucky Lady isn't a woman ... it's a ship.

  Chapter One

  This wasn't a ship, Lara thought as she stood outside of the gate that led to her new inheritance. This was a ship wreck!

  Obviously Mr. Martel hadn't been to The Lucky Lady in a while, or he'd have been hard pressed to call it anything more than a disaster.

  She stared at the peeling paint and broken railings and wanted to cry. So much for all her hopes and dreams. She should have known it was too good to be true.

  When the attorney had explained the lady he was referring to was a casino boat, Lara had immediately understood. It would be just like her uncle to put all his money into something like this. It would be the ultimate toy for a gambling man.

  But why had he let it go to ruin for so long? The lawyer said it was up and running, but it was a far cry from some of the other boats she saw tied up at the docks. They all gleamed in the sunlight. They were freshly painted and the shining brass well polished. Next to them, The Lucky Lady looked as if it would be better served just turning turtle and sinking into the water in embarrassment.

  Gingerly, she stepped onto the dock. It didn't make sense. The money was there in the bank waiting to be spent on refurbishments. Not a lot, but with careful management, the ship could be fixed up quite nice.

  So why hadn't he? Why had he waited so long?

  That question pulled at her as she made her way to the rickety gangplank. The ship was so badly damaged it was a wonder any guests came on board, especially with all the free casino boats around. But there was something to be said about history, and this one did have a history the others didn't.

  Mr. Martel had told her that her ancestor, Bridget Kincade had originally owned the boat in the early 1900's. In a day and age where everything was owned and run by the male of the species, she had made quite a name for herself and The Lucky Lady as one of the premier riverboat casinos on the Mississippi River. Then one day she up and left the boat, no explanations given.

  The boat had passed to her son, who while making a decent living, never enjoyed the success of his mother. Her grandson too continued the downward spiral, but no one could quite figure out why. After a while it was said The Lucky Lady
wasn't lucky anymore ... but cursed.

  Hoping to change the family fortunes, Thomas Kincade, Bridget's great-grandson, had moved the boat out of the Mississippi and taken it to the eastern coast of Florida where the tourist dollars were booming. After a complete refitting to make the boat seaworthy, he was ready to begin business as an open seas casino boat.

  But instead of giving the family coffers a shot of life, the boat drained away the money. It looked as if The Lucky Lady didn't like being moved from her river home. Engines failed and the machines in the casinos went haywire. Parts broke and then the replacements went missing. Bit by bit, the once beautiful Lady fell into disrepair.

  Lara shook her head as she climbed aboard. She'd had no idea it would be so bad. Mr. Martel had warned her, but he'd made it sound like a few coats of paint and some organizing and all would be well. This was more than she had expected.

  She walked up to the bow and stared out at the busy port. She'd given up her job, her apartment, and her whole life. It had been wildly satisfying to toss her badge back in that bastard Gerald's face, and walk out of the Readymart forever. She had sold everything, packed up what was left, and driven her small car across country from Idaho to Florida. Lara had known she would have to start over, but she hadn't expected to start nearly from scratch.

  Tears burned her eyes. “What would you do, Uncle Simon? What would you do if you were me?"

  There was no answer except for the screaming of the gulls. She stood there, watching them dive and swoop for a long time. Then Lara laughed. Hadn't he already answered her? He'd given her the boat. He'd given her the money. Now it was up to her to make both their dreams a reality.

  Squaring her shoulders, she thanked her stars she didn't get seasick as she made her way across the swaying deck. She stepped through the main door and into ... chaos.

  The place was a disaster area. Tables were filthy, chairs knocked over and there was something on the wall that looked suspiciously like ... vomit?

  There were several people milling about, trying to get it clean, but to Lara's experienced eyes there wasn't enough time in the world to put this place to rights. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she'd make sure it was the last time. Just because her uncle had died didn't give these people the right ... no ... that would be jumping the gun. She would hear what happened first.