by Elle Casey
“Just get as close to twenty-one as you can without going over,” he instructed.
“Sounds easy,” I said, picking up my first card. I showed it to him. “Is this a good one?”
He nodded and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Soft hand.”
I held out my fingers in front of me, smiling. “Thank you. I use hand cream to keep them moisturized.”
“Not your hand, the card. That’s an ace … possibility of a soft hand. It’s worth either one or eleven, you can decide which. If you get a ten or higher - any of the face cards - you win. You get a return of a hundred and fifty percent of your bet.” He glanced at the table. “You’ve put down two hundred dollars, so that could net you three hundred.”
I stopped breathing for a few seconds as the blood drained out of my face. My voice came out an octave higher than usual. “I just bet two hundred dollars?”
He chuckled, flashing me more of the dentures. “That you did.”
I looked around the casino, hoping the cowboy wouldn’t come back and see the huge pile of money I was playing with. Why didn’t I look at the chips closer? Why didn’t I check them first?
“Insurance anyone?” asked the dealer.
I felt the blood drain out of my face even more. I was a ghost now. “Insurance?” My voice came out as a whisper.
“Dealer has an ace. He’s giving you a chance to bet a little extra on the side. It pays two to one. If he gets a face card next, he wins automatically, so this can help offset your losses. You can bet up to half of what you have on the table right now.”
“He wins, even if I get blackjack too?”
“No, then it’s a push. But you’d lose your insurance money, so you’d lose net.”
“Should I do it?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I can’t tell you if you should or not. Gotta do what your gut’s telling you.” He examined his own cards and shook his head at the call for insurance.
“My gut’s telling me to run and lock myself in the bathroom.”
The old man shook his head. “Better not. Your boyfriend will lose his spot at the table and this dealer’s treating him right. He’ll be taking a break in the next twenty minutes or so and then your boyfriend’ll miss out on his run for good.”
I gritted my teeth together and took a deep breath in through my nose, trying to ignore the spinning of the room. Too many cocktails. So little time. “Okay, fine. I can be bold. I can be dangerous.” I shook my head at the dealer, trying to keep my game face on. “No insurance. But thank you for offering. That was very nice.”
The dealer gave me a small smile. “Rules of the house. I don’t make ‘em, I just play by ‘em.” He was kinda cute.
“Oh.” My face went red. Total rookie move. I slouched a little in my seat.
A cocktail waitress came up and stopped next to my chair. “Cocktail?”
“Oh, I don’t have any money right now,” I said. I’d left my wallet and credit card in Candice’s purse.
“They’re on the house as long as you’re playing.” She gave me a bored look.
“Well, okay then. If they’re free bring one for me and my friend.” I winked at the man next to me and he nodded back. “Gin and tonic for me and …”
“Make it two,” said my neighbor.
The dealer gave everyone else a second card. He lifted up the corners of own cards and then put them down, looking at the man farthest to my right expectantly.
The old man let out a hiss of air.
“What? What just happened?” I asked, looking at the dealer and then the old man again.
“Dealer doesn’t have a ten or higher on that second card. Your bet is safe for now.”
I watched the people around the table. They were all peeking at their second card and frowning.
I did the same, trying to mimic their technique of only bending up the very corner of the cards. Next to my ace sat another ace. My heart began pounding wildly. What does this mean? Twenty-two? That can’t be good. Twelve? That sounds too low.
“Help,” I whispered, wishing the gods of poker were on my shoulders in miniature, whispering in my ear and telling me what to do.
“What you got?” asked the old man, sounding amused as he leaned towards me a little.
I lifted up my cards so he could see them. “I think it’s bad news,” I said, dreading his response. I’d just blown two hundred bucks of someone else’s money. I had to find an ATM machine, stat, so I could replace it before he found out. I had to find Candice and get my stuff! I looked around, but she and Kelly were nowhere in sight.
He let out a long whistle. “You need to split.”
I jumped off the chair and looked around. “Okay,” I said, wringing my hands, trying to figure out where to go and whether I should take all the chips with me or just abandon them to my shame.
He put his hand on my arm. “What are you doing? Take your seat.”
I looked at him confused. “But you told me to take off.”
He laughed, his round belly jiggling under his shirt. “No, missy, I told you to split, not take off. Split your cards into two separate hands and play them separately.”
“What?” I slowly climbed back up onto the stool, not any less confused but at least reasonably sure I wasn’t supposed to run off for the toilets or my room.
“You can choose to turn one hand into two. You have to double your bet, but in your case, it might be worth it.”
I swallowed hard. “You mean, bet four hundred dollars instead of two hundred?” Dollars. Of this stranger’s money. Jesus, what the hell am I doing?
“Yep.” He looked at his own cards again. “You need to decide what you’re going to do before you miss your turn.” The old man nodded at the dealer.
I looked up to find the dealer staring at me expectantly.
“Um … I … uh … need to split.” My face was on fire. I needed a drink bad. Running to the bathrooms was sounding like a really good idea right now.
The dealer nodded. “Two hundred dollars.”
I searched through my chips, turning them over and reading their faces. Once I realized they were color-coded, I found two more like the ones I already had out and put them on the table. The dealer reached over and split my two cards apart, putting two chips by each single card. He sent out another round of cards, and now I had four cards in front of me. I noticed the man to my right tickled the top of the table with his index finger and the dealer threw him a card. Then the man floated his hands above his cards and shook his head.
The dealer was back to staring at me.
I stared back, now getting a little irritated at him. “What?”
“Do you want me to hit you?” he asked.
I looked at him aghast, wondering what rule I’d broken so badly I needed to be physically abused over it. “No, I don’t want you to hit me. Do you want me to hit you?” I stood up, ready to defend myself. This was the worst customer service I’d ever experienced in my entire life. He was probably pissed off that I had half the aces.
The old man put his hand on my arm. “He wants to know if you want another card. That’s a hit.”
All the fight club went out of me in a big wave, leaving behind humiliation in its wake. This was worse than losing toilet paper boobs in a wet t-shirt contest. I sat back on my stool, pulling my dress down my thighs a little to keep from exposing my panties. “Oh. Sorry about that. I apologize for threatening you. Yes, please, I’d like a card for both of them.”
“You need to give him a signal, not just words. Big Brother is watching,” said the old man, pointing to a security camera inside a black globe on the ceiling. “People who lose like to claim later they said stay instead of hit, so they want to see your intentions really clearly.”
I smacked a fist into my other hand. “Hit me.”
The dealer laughed and looked away for a second, like he was collecting himself.
The old man chuckled too. “Just tap your finger on the table. No need to punch anyone.”
“Oh.” Another rookie move. I probably should have been more embarrassed about it, but the cocktails were easing the sting. I tickled the table with my fingers, once near each card pile.
The dealer nodded and threw two cards down. Somehow he was able to flick them right to where they needed to be, even while his hands barely moved. He was like a magician. And he was staring at me again. It made me want to growl at him.
“Look at the cards,” said my helpful friend. “Try to get as close to twenty-one as you can.”
I lifted up the card on my right side. It was a king. “How much is this?”
“That’s ten. You need to stay.”
I smiled. “Oh, I plan on staying, believe me. I have to watch these chips ’til that cowboy guy gets back.”
“No, I mean, you have to tell the dealer that you don’t need anymore cards on that stack. Tell him you’re staying with a hand signal.”
“What’s the signal?” I asked.
The old man waved a flat palm across the table, like he was trying to make something levitate off it.
I copied his motion.
The dealer nodded and then looked at my next stack. I followed his gaze and then jumped a little in my seat, realizing I had to look at the cards myself. I picked them up and saw a two as my newest addition.
The old man frowned. “You can either stay or ask for a hit.”
“What should I do?” I felt the stress level rising. The glow from my earlier win was fading fast, and I hadn’t even had a chance to celebrate it properly yet. I was pretty sure a victory dance was called for in this situation, considering I’d just won like three hundred bucks. That’s an hour’s worth of my time as a lawyer and I’d done it in five minutes without having to do any legal research. No wonder people liked going to Vegas.
“I can’t tell you what you should do. Just consider that if the dealer busts, any hand that isn’t already busted is a winner.”
“Busted?”
“Over twenty one,” he clarified.
“Oh. Okay.” I counted up my card values. I had either thirteen or three. Neither sounded close enough to twenty one. “Okay, I want you to hit me.” I stared at the dealer, waiting for him to comply. He stared at me like I hadn’t just talked directly to him.
The old man nudged me. “Hand signals. Big brother. Remember?”
The guy to my right said nothing, but he demonstrated the table tickle for my benefit all the same.
I wiggled three of my fingers on the table, like I was tickling the felt too. The old man chuckled and the dealer smiled. “That works,” he said, throwing a card down on my second pile.
I lifted the corner. Five. That makes seven plus the eleven. Eighteen. I looked at the old man. “That looks pretty good to me.”
He nodded, all seriousness now. “Looks pretty good to me too.”
I waved my hand over the table. “I’m staying put, right here. Don’t hit me anymore. I’ve had enough hitting.”
I felt a presence behind me just moments before the heat of a large body standing very close came through my dress. I looked over my shoulder and saw the arresting good looks of the cowboy. I grinned, hoping my charm would keep him from being angry over the amount of money on the table.
He smiled back. “Looks like you’ve been busy.” He lifted an eyebrow at me and then looked pointedly at the table.
Chapter Ten
MY NIPPLES GOT HARD UNDER my dress and a zing of something electric went right down to my the space between my legs. I was too flustered to come up with anything even mildly intelligent in response. “Yes. Busy learning blackjack.”
“Your girlfriend’s a quick study,” said the old man. He motioned the dealer for a hit. When he looked at his card he frowned and then flipped them both over.
I counted them up, letting the girlfriend comment just breeze on by. “Busted,” I said, very sad that he’d lost. I pouted in his honor.
The dealer swooped up his cards and his money.
The old man nodded. “Busted, indeed.” He stood and motioned to his chair while looking at the cowboy. “I’m done. Good luck to you both.”
I spun around, my legs brushing up against the cowboy. I tried to ignore the way that simple touch was making my pulse hammer in my veins. “You’re leaving?”
“Yep. Time to call it a day.”
“Aw, that’s a bummer. But thank you so much for your help.” I hopped off the stool and grabbed him in a hug. He totally reminded me of my grandpa who’d died three years earlier.
He patted my back. “It was my pleasure, Lady Luck. Have a nice evening.” He shook the cowboy’s hand. “Take care of her. She’s got lots of potential.”
“I’ll do what I can,” said the cowboy, nodding once.
I watched my mentor walk away, wondering what he meant by that. It sounded nice. I liked the idea of having a lot of potential. There were people who’d known me for years who’d never say such a thing about me, but they weren’t allowed to ruin my night. Not tonight. I pushed their ghosts out of my head.
The cowboy held the back of the stool I’d been saving for him. “Are you staying?” he asked.
I stood there, my face suddenly flaming red and my body screaming for more of him than just a blackjack partner or victim of my clutziness. What the hell. “Sure. I have to finish this game, right?”
He nodded. “Take this seat.” He motioned at the one with his chips in front of it.
I took it, feeling the sweat break out under my arms when he claimed the seat recently vacated by my busted buddy.
“Do you want to see my cards? Your cards, actually?” I asked. I fingered the chips in front of me for a few seconds and then jerked my hands away, resting them in my lap.
“Hands on the table, please,” said the dealer, frowning at me.
I threw them up to rest on the padded bar in front of the pile of chips, afraid I was about to get arrested for attempted cheating.
The cowboy lifted up first the cards on the left and then the ones on the right. He whistled his appreciation. “Well done, Lady Luck.”
He was close enough that I could smell him. For the first time in all the years I’d known Candice, I fully appreciated her habit of leaning in to inhale people’s scents. I wanted to get his man-scent up into my brain. It was doing something to me that I’d never experienced before.
Pheromones. My eyes widened. I was totally being drugged by this guy’s manliness. How easy can a girl get? Maybe that should have offended my feminist self, but all it did was make me want to bury my nose in his neck. I glanced at him, biting my bottom lip in consideration. Am I tipsy enough to do it? He was leaning over looking at the cards, and it would be so easy.
I bent at the waist just the slightest bit and closed my eyes, inhaling deeply but slowly so he wouldn’t hear it. When I opened my eyes, his face was just a few inches from mine.
“Are you okay?” he asked, humor tipping up the corners of his luscious mouth.
“Uhhh … yeah. Are you okay?” I looked down at his crotch. “Did you take care of yourself in the bathroom okay?” Half a second later I choked on my own tongue. Did I actually just say that?
He chuckled softly. “I got my pants as dry as I could, all considered, if that’s what you mean.”
I nodded, afraid to speak at this point. Who knew what would come flying out of my mouth next. I was dangerous with this many cocktails in me.
The dealer distracted me from my embarrassment, turning over our hands and paying out or taking money. I looked at his cards. He had an ace, a three, and an eight. I counted furiously in my head. Eleven, three, that’s fourteen plus eight that’s … twenty-one? No! Twenty-two! Is it twenty-two? I looked at the cowboy. “What’s that mean?” I asked, pointing to the dealer’s cards.
“He busted. Anyone not over twenty one wins, and you get a little extra for having blackjack.”
I watched as the dealer pushed a pile of chips over in my direction. “Congratulations,” he said. “Mu
st be beginner’s luck.”
My mouth dropped open. “That’s … six hundred dollars,” I whispered. I’d never won any money in my entire life. Every penny in my bank account was hard-earned.
“I hope you’ll stay,” said the cowboy, pulling six chips out from in front of me to put on the table. He put three in front of my spot and three in front of his.
“I don’t have any money,” I said. I’d left all my cash with Candice and it sure wasn’t six hundred bucks.
He looked at the pile in front of me. “Sure looks like you do.”
I smiled, my jaw a little off kilter as it dropped open. If this was his flirting game, I had to give him credit. It was original, even though it did feel a tiny bit like solicitation of prostitution. “That’s your money, not mine.”
He shrugged. “It’s play money. Win or lose, the goal is to have a good time.”
“Oh, I can have a good time in Vegas, trust me. And it doesn’t even take a lot of money either.” The cocktail waitress walked up with a tray and two drinks.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked, looking at the faces around the table.
“He left. But I’ll take his drink,” I said, moving back so she could put them on the table in front of me.
“I’ll take a Bud on your next trip by,” said Mack.
She gave him a sexy smile and cocked her hip out at him. It irritated me more than I wanted to admit. “Coming right up. Can I get you anything else to go with that Bud?”
He looked right at me. “I have everything I need right here, thanks.”
My throat closed up at the innuendo I prayed was coming out of his mouth. But he couldn’t possibly be talking about me. The only thing he knew about me was that I was a klutzy chick who liked to spend his money. Not the best makings of a girlfriend candidate.
I wanted to slap my own face with the direction my mind was going. Girlfriend material? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re in Vegas for chrissake! Get control of yourself. Tonight is not the night for lifeplan action. But a one night stand? Maybe … I sat up straighter and looked at the table, lifting up my card at the corner.