Maybe they could get away with this. Maybe they really were invisible. Even Mary Ann’s appearance, the thing that had made her stand out throughout her life and filled her head with foolish ambition, became part of a pattern, repeated and ubiquitous like the cameras overhead. This could work. She felt a sense of calm wash over the preoccupations of the last few days. The dealer announced the numbers softly, with a slight, endearing lisp: twentythix, black; thixteen, red. Alongside all of it, Mary Ann could feel a growing desire not to disappoint Erica, an urge to make her proud. Erica seemed to like her, to believe in her contribution to the cause; to think she was worth something. The glossy white ball sank into the number pockets with a satisfying click. She wanted to help, she really, honestly did. She could feel it now. She wanted to be part of something bigger and do something for Karen and for all the others here. She’d been selfish for far too long.