Player: Stone Cold MC (2 page)

The green felt was familiar under my fingertips. Casino tables always looked the same. Why couldn’t they use something else, rather than their signature deep green color that never went with the décor? I tapped my fingers rhythmically, eyes on the cards Tommy was dealing. Crowds milled around me, some of them stopping to watch the game for a few minutes before moving on, and one or two onlookers thinking of taking seats once they were vacated.

A tune blared in the background from invisible speakers, music that I didn’t know the words to, and a couple next to me was talking more than really playing. Something about a mortgage and not being able to afford to lose. I wanted to get involved and ask them why the hell they were playing if money was a problem, but that would be hypocritical of me.

Besides, I had to concentrate.

Tommy smiled at me when he flipped a seven. Dammit. He wore the characteristic dealer uniform. White shirt, black waistcoat, and those black straps around his biceps that held the shirt up so it wouldn’t fall over his hands. His hair was getting long, curling over the ears, making him look like he was barely out of school. For all I knew that was true.

I’d been counting his cards all night, sure I knew what the deck held, and still I wasn’t having any luck. I hated it when a table ran dry. I didn’t want to admit that maybe it was me that was the problem. My counting was fine, nothing wrong.

“Maybe next time, Alexandra,” he said and grinned.

I groaned. “Please, Tommy. Alex. You know I hate being called that.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” he asked and pushed his tongue between his teeth, biting down on it. Pulling tongue in a manly way. I smiled back cheekily. Tommy was a good kid. A bit too fresh for me, not seasoned enough to fit into the dark side of the world. My world. Still, it was good to have someone on my side.

It hadn’t been hard to get into Tommy’s pants. I’d spotted him the second time I’d come to Calico. It had been a slow night and he’d looked lonely, dealing to a lonely drinker, not knowing anyone. He’d been new then. I’d needed someone on the tables who would know me well enough to let my counting slide when he spotted it. He’d been innocent and a few flirt lines were all it had taken. 

And he hadn’t been that bad a lay, all things considered. I think he was younger than me, but we didn’t ask those kinds of questions. He’d tried to get my number out of me a couple of times afterwards, and I’d damn near broke his heart telling him I wasn’t interested in anything serious despite having sex with him. But like a big boy he’d gotten over it.

“Giving up so early?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Not giving up, just a change of scenery.” This table just wasn’t doing it for me, and I was getting a bad case of the itch. I needed to find a table that I was going to win at, and Calico wasn’t working. None of the tables here were doing it for me, and I didn’t like to hang around in one place long enough for more people to know my face.

“I’ll see you around, baby,” I said and blew a kiss over the table to him. He chuckled, shook his head, and dealt a new hand for the couple who had now started arguing. Someone else took my seat the moment I was up, eyes all shining and eager. I hoped he had better luck than I did—although his losing would have made me happier.

Tommy waved at me.

He wasn’t my type. I stayed friendly with him because it was good for business. I stayed on top of things so that I could pull in the big bucks. That was what it was all about. I couldn’t walk away from the tables unless I had a couple of grand, and if I didn’t get that I was crabby until my next win.

Some people called it an obsession. My sister called it an addiction. I called it a living.

“Where you headed?” Maia, the cleaning lady, asked me.

“I don’t know. I think I’ll find someone to paint the town with.”

Maia shook her head. I knew her well enough to know she pulled double shifts to feed her two children. So busy keeping them alive she forgot about living herself. I didn’t want to end up in that mess. I’d been there before, no chance in hell I was going back to that.

“You be careful,
chiquita
,” she said. “You get in trouble, the casino boys aren’t going to play nice because you’re a lady.”

I pouted and made big eyes.

“Trouble? Me?”

She laughed and I patted her on the shoulder before walking away.

The night was hot and humid, wrapping around me like an unwelcome blanket. I tugged at the collar of the red blouse I was wearing to look classy. Casinos tended to be less suspicious when I dressed the part. I wished I could have worn shorts and a tank top…that was how I spent my days here in California. But the night scene just needed something else. That was a fact.

I walked down the street. Someone whistled at me, and I ignored him.  I didn’t have very high standards, I had to admit, but I wasn’t just going to sleep with anyone. I only slept with the guys who were going to give me something in return. Not money, that was dirty. But something like a seat on a hot poker table, or silence when my secrets slipped into the open by accident.

What can I say? I was a businesswoman.

The bright signs in the distance caught my eye. Harlan Gold knew how to attract customers. They were like moths to a flame with that place. There was just something magical about the place, something that let you forget about real life for a while and get lost in the splendor and the promise of maybe winning some money. Hell, I worked the casinos all the time, I was immune to the charm that hung in the air, and still Harlan Gold drew me.

I straightened my back and lengthened my stride, my goal in sight. My thin heels clicked on the pavement as I closed the distance between the place I was going to spend the rest of my night and me.

I walked past two other casinos without batting an eyelash and walked in through the doors of Harlan Gold. I didn’t nod at the security guards even though I knew exactly who they were and when they had their shifts. I didn’t want to attract attention to myself and be labelled as a regular.

Regulars were treated with some kind of respect and that meant that they had to be straight and honest.

I didn’t do straight and honest.

I pulled the elastic out of my hair and let it fall down over my shoulders in a heavy brown mass. I unbuttoned my shirt a bit so that it showed the swells of my breasts. Harlan Gold let me let my hair down, and there was nothing as attractive as a woman who made the boys look. Or rather, there was nothing as
distracting
.

I took a deep breath, filling my nostrils with the smell of smoke and perfume and the high of winning. People everywhere were smiling, white teeth and shimmering eyes sparkling. Maybe that was why everyone kept coming back.

The casino was a gem. The carpets were a plush red, and my heels sunk into it as I walked through the slot machines with their sheep that hoped the next spin would be the Jackpot. The place was decorated tastefully in gold, deep brown, and rich red, making the whole place shimmer like the jewel it was. It wasn’t the cheesy Asian red and gold, but rather the kind that screamed class and money, even though they catered to the everyday civilians off the streets, too.

But Harlan Gold had VIP rooms and high stakes games that made my fingers itch, and I was planning on landing in one of those tonight. I needed a big win to satisfy the uncomfortable urges. I needed some money passing through my fingers to remind me that I was alive.

I walked toward the poker tables. I felt lucky tonight, and poker was one of my favorites. Texas Hold’em.

A guy to my right cheered, no doubt winning a big hand. I turned my head and looked at him, and my eyes stayed on him for two steps. He was good looking.

God, he was really good looking. He had black hair and blue eyes, the perfect combination. But he wasn’t model pretty. He was rough and rugged, a big boy that carried himself as if he knew who he was and what he was doing there. And his voice was deep and rich…as rich as the chips he was scraping toward himself.

I shook my head and returned my focus to the table, sitting down. Focus. I had to focus on the game. So many of the players relied on the statistics, their probability of winning based on the cards in their hands and the cards on the table.

I didn’t play that way. As much as I was a counter, I played Texas Hold’em by feel. My gut told me when to bet and when to fold, and most of the time, I won big. I had the touch, or so I liked to think.

I sat down. There were three men and a woman at the table. The men’s eyes all traveled down to my unbuttoned shirt before they met my eyes and smiled. The woman, somewhere in her forties I was guessing, glared at me as if I’d stolen her limelight. Jealousy makes you nasty.

I started with the small blind and put in my money. I was dealt a king and a ten. I put my cards down on the table, face down, after checking them. I wouldn’t pick them up again. There were those that miraculously forgot which two cards they had.

Their timing was everything. I could read with how many times they double-checked, how much trouble they were in.

With the men’s reaction, I wasn’t too worried about them. Their attention might have only wavered for a moment, but if it had worked then without me doing much, I could distract them again. Fold my arms under my breasts and lean on the table, pushing them up so there was more to see. Bat my eyelashes at someone. Flirtatious lines and smiling and laughter. Men ate that shit up and the game fell away.

It was only Ms. Sourpuss over there whom I needed to watch out for, but she looked like the calculating kind. I could take her easily.

The dealer laid out the first card. A jack. Nothing special, but I could use it if the right cards came up. Another round of betting. Check. Raise the bet. Call. Check. Everyone was ready for the next card.

A king. I sat on a double already. If I got a nine and a queen, I was sorted for a straight, but that was getting my hopes up.

Check. Check. One man eyed my chest again and folded.

A four. Not what I needed. The straight was out, but I could still win on the double if it worked out in my favor. The chubbier one of the two still had his eyes on the table right in front of me, no doubt using his peripherals to check me out. I did my squeeze-and-lean trick, and he rubbed his neck. He was on the edge. He’d lost his concentration, and he was going to either lose or fold.

He folded just after I thought about it.

Ms. Sourpuss was still glaring at me, probably unhappy that my rack was getting more attention than hers was. I smiled brightly at her and raised the bet. She had to either call or fold.

She called. Who would have thought?

Dealer threw out a nine. Too little too late, but I wasn’t out of the game yet. The last guy folded, and it was just us two ladies, standing off. Fine by me, it was difficult to beat the two kings I had with what was on the table. She either had to have a king and an ace as the kicker in her hand, or I was ahead of her. I was willing to take the chance that she didn’t have those exact two cards in her hand.

I raised my bet again.

She clenched her jaw, and I saw ‘fold’ written in her eyes, but the tick in her jaw spelled out ‘stubborn’ so she called.

The last card was another king. It could be either-or. She was the first to lay down her cards. Double nines.

I put mine down, and the chips were mine. She scoffed at me as if I’d personally done her in, and a new hand was dealt, everyone back on-board.

Forty-five minutes and I’d cleaned the table. Winning was amazing. The thrill rushed through my body, and I felt like a million bucks.

I didn’t have that much yet, but the night was still young.

I went to two more tables where I cleaned up, and a man in a black suit and a butter yellow tie that did nothing for his skin tone approached me.