Not Salable For Sale
A Poker Boy Story
Dean Wesley Smith
Not Salable For Sale
Copyright © 2013 by Dean Wesley Smith
Published by WMG Publishing
Cover Design copyright © 2013 WMG Publishing
Cover art copyright Linda Bucklin/Dreamstime
Smashwords Edition
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Chapter One
Seeing a leprechaun appear in a small casino in the mountains of Oregon can make even a professional poker player like me lose my train of thought.
I flipped my A-10 off-suit into the muck and turned to my right as the leprechaun waved at me.
He had on the standard, leprechaun-green top hat that didn’t cover his pointed ears but sort of rode on them like they were training wheels for the big hat. He had a green jacket, brown pants, and a long-stemmed pipe in his mouth that didn’t seem to be lit. It stuck out of his scraggly red beard like a weed out of a ragged lawn.
He wasn’t any taller than the back of a poker chair, and was as skinny as a flagpole. Somehow he climbed onto a chair, on top of an empty poker table, and then sat down, his big brown shoes with gold buckles dangling over the edge of the table like he was a kid sitting in a huge chair.
I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the new visitor.
No one had, even though there were three tables of eight going at the moment. Spirit Winds Casino in the Oregon mountains didn’t have many people in the poker room at midnight on a Wednesday.
I was here because I was just waiting for my girlfriend to get off work at the MGM Grand Casino in Las Vegas, and I figured the plucking of tourists would be easier here tonight than in Vegas. And since, as Poker Boy, I could jump back and forth instantly with my Jump Anywhere Power, it didn’t matter where I played.
Besides, this was my old home casino; I knew everyone here, and it was comfortable. There was a lot to be said about comfort.
Now a stupid leprechaun had interrupted my nice evening.
I had only seen leprechauns in Vegas at the Okey-Doke Casino out on the old highway. It was one of those places hidden with magic, so that no one knew it was there unless you were taken there. I had helped solve a big problem there a while back, so maybe this guy was just coming to say hi and thank me again.
I doubted it. I had learned that no one could ever trust a leprechaun. And I had no plan on trusting this one, either.
I pushed away from the table and tossed the dealer a ten-dollar chip. “If I’m not back in thirty minutes, rack them and hold them for me, would you?”
The dealer nodded and rapped the chip on the felt in acknowledgement.
I adjusted my black leather coat and zipped it up, then made sure my black fedora-like hat was on solid before turning away from the table.
Already the little skinny guy had cost me money. My hunch was it was only going to go downhill from here.
“Where’d you leave the pot of gold?” I asked as I walked past him.
“Funny,” he said, his voice deep and raspy and not fitting his thin, small body at all. “Very damn funny.”
Leprechauns hated being teased about their pots of gold. They had lost all of it, every damn pot, a couple of centuries before in a bad bet with a few aliens who happened to be visiting Earth at the time. It was still a touchy subject.
I just kept walking, letting him jump down from the table and follow me. I had no intention of carrying on a conversation with an invisible man while on casino security cameras. That wouldn’t do my reputation any good at all.
Besides, I needed a break and some fresh air.
At a fast walk, I weaved my way through the slot machines, cutting through all the smoke and older people plugging the machines like the world was about to end and they wanted to get rid of every dollar before it did.
As we neared the front door of the casino, the little guy finally caught up with me, his pipe in one hand, his other hand holding his hat onto his head as he ran. He was panting and swearing lightly under his breath.
“Shouldn’t smoke so much,” I said as I pushed open the door and hesitated to let him go through ahead of me.
“You shouldn’t be such a jerk,” the little guy said in his deep voice. He sounded more like a country-western singer and he didn’t have any accent at all.
“You’re the one who is bothering me,” I said, heading out toward the parking lot to where I knew there was a small dead spot in the security cameras. The fall night air felt great after wading through the smoke around those slot machines. Clean and pure.
I glanced at my watch. Still over two hours before I had to pick up Patty at the MGM Grand.
Patty was also called Front Desk Girl, and she was a superhero in the hospitality part of the gambling universe. We fit together perfectly and made a great team. She had long brown hair and wonderful brown eyes I loved getting lost in. She was only a few inches shorter than I was, but when she wore heels we seemed to be the same size.
“I just came to ask for help from the great Poker Boy,” the leprechaun said.
“Sarcasm just won’t get me doing anything,” I said. “So what’s your name?”
He glared at me. I knew that knowing any magical creature’s name gave me power over them. And he knew I knew it. He had no intention of giving me that kind of power.
“So what do I call you?” I asked.
“Lenny,” he said. He clearly must have already figured that’s the name he would use with me.
“Lenny the Leprechaun,” I said, shaking my head as I reached the dead area in the security cameras and stopped, sitting down on the edge of a planter to be more at his level. “Got it.”
“I’m an elf,” he said, getting red in the face and spreading his thin legs into a fighting stance in front of me. Old elves who wore green and smoked pipes for some reason never liked to be called leprechauns. No one had explained that to me yet. Someday I would ask Stan, the God of Poker why that was.
“Sorry,” I said. “So what can I do for you?”
Lenny took the pipe out of his mouth and stuck it in his belt, then adjusted his tall hat and then his green vest. Then he went to pacing in front of me, two steps, turn, two steps. With his short legs he didn’t go far in either direction.
He clearly didn’t want to tell me why he had come to find me.
I clicked on my Trust Me super power,” added a little Calming Power and aimed it at him.
He suddenly stopped pacing and faced me.
“Nice magic,” he said, taking a deep breath and clearly relaxing. “Thanks, I feel better.”
I had never thought of my powers as magic before, but I suppose they were. And I had never tried them on a magical creature before now. Learn something every day, even from a Leprechaun.
“You’re welcome,” I said, switching off my power. “Now, what’s happening?”
“Mrs. Lenny, my wife, is missing.”
Chapter Two
Now, of all the things a leprechaun might come to me for help with, I sure would have never thought it would be to find his wife. I didn’t even know where leprechauns lived. I had heard that the ones around Vegas lived in magically hidden forests and glens in valleys up by Lake Mead. But I would have to ask someone above me in the ranks if even that was right.
And besides, I was a superhe
ro in the world of gambling, specializing in poker, thus the name, Poker Boy. I wasn’t Missing-Persons-Boy, although I wouldn’t be surprised that a superhero with that name actually existed. Gods and superheroes seemed to exist for just about everything on the planet.
So he had to have a special reason for coming to me.
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” I said, actually being sincere. “But not sure what you think I can do to help.”
“I was told you would be the best person to help me,” he said, looking very worried.
“Who told you that?” More than likely this was just a joke being played on me, and so far I had fallen for it and taken the little guy a little too seriously.
“The general manager of the Okey-Doke Casino checked around and found out you were the best. He asked your boss if it would be all right if I contacted you, and he said sure.”
“My boss?” I asked, now stunned. “Who do you think my boss is?”
The little guy sort of shrugged. “Some guy named Stan I think.”
That was enough. I looked up into the air and shouted “Stan!”
An instant later Stan, the God of Poker, appeared beside me in the parking lot. He had on his normal brown slacks, short-sleeved business shirt that matched his slacks and loafers. He had nothing at all distinctive about his face and his brown hair was cut short, but not too short. Perfect camouflage for a poker player. He could walk down the street and no one would notice him.
Stan glanced around and nodded. “Dead camera area, huh?”
“And fresh air,” I said.
“A little chilly,” he said and a brown sweater appeared on him.
“You know Lenny here,” I said, indicating the leprechaun.
Stan nodded. “Never met, but heard of the problem. Sorry to hear about your wife. If anyone can help you, it’s Poker Boy.”
Okay, so now I was convinced that Stan was in on this joke as well. Gods were well known for pulling pranks and practical jokes. And Stan had done his share over the years.
I stood, adjusting my leather coat. “Okay, so tell me the punch line so I can get back to my game.”
Lenny the Leprechaun looked pained and Stan just looked puzzled. After a moment Stan seemed to catch on to what I was saying, and he shook his head and looked at Lenny.
“You haven’t told him your problem yet?”
“I told him my wife was missing,” he said, defensively.
“But you didn’t tell him where, did you?” Stan asked, staring down at the little elf.
Lenny looked almost insulted. “Where else would my wife go missing that I couldn’t find her?”
I shook my head and started away from the dead area of the casino parking lot. “I’ve got a game to finish.”
“Silicon Suckers,” Stan said.
The two words stopped me cold and I turned around and went back.
Silicon Suckers are a very, very old race of beings that have been on Earth far longer than humans. They are often mistaken for the “Grays” by alien-watchers. The Silicon Suckers live in what they call “castles” under desert areas. They have huge, city-sized caverns and hundreds of miles of tunnels under the desert outside of Vegas on the north side of town. The Silicon Suckers control a large amount of desert all around Las Vegas. I have done numbers of favors for them over the years, so I am an honored guest in their cities.
They also killed an old girlfriend of mine when she wouldn’t return some sacred silicon a doctor had put into her breasts. I had warned her many times that the Silicon Suckers would get their silicon back one way or another. And they did.
I ignored Lenny and looked at Stan. “I thought the fairy world and the Silicon Suckers were not on speaking terms.”
“They aren’t,” Stan said, clearly disgusted. “But Mrs. Lenny thought she might be able to negotiate with them for a small piece of property near the lake.”
“Did she ask anyone why that property would never be for sale?” I asked, stunned. The only property the Silicon Suckers controlled near Lake Mead was a cliff face that represented some of their deepest beliefs and history. I was told that the cliff was the last remaining wall of their most ancient city.
“I doubt it,” Stan said. “Otherwise she wouldn’t be missing.”
“We thought it would be a good addition to a charming pool under the wall,” Lenny said. “Make some slides on it, diving platforms, you know the drill.”
I just shook my head in disgust. Stan just smiled. His poker face was better than mine.
If Lenny’s wife had tried to even make an offer on that cliff face, she was long since dead. Just the offer would be so insulting to the Silicon Suckers that Lenny’s wife would be moisture for their underground gardens.
I was about to tell Lenny that, when it dawned on me that I knew exactly where Lenny’s wife was, and that she hadn’t even gotten to insulting the Silicon Suckers by telling them her people wanted to make a recreational area out of a scared place.
I started laughing and both Stan and Lenny looked at me like I had gone crazy.
“Where did she try to go in?” I asked Lenny between laughs.
“At the large Downtown Vegas billboard off the highway on the north,” Lenny said, staring at me. “And what’s so damned funny about my wife being missing?”
“She’s not dead, that’s what,” I said. “She is a magical being, right?”
“Of course,” Lenny said, clearly angry, his little frame shaking.
Then Stan started laughing as well. He understood enough about the Silicon Suckers to know that they must know a person’s true name before they will be allowed inside of their castles. And magical people won’t give out their real names unless really pressed, thus she would never be allowed into any Silicon Sucker city.
“I’ll go get her,” I said to Stan. “Take Lenny here back to Vegas and wait for my shout.”
Chapter Three
Stan nodded and I jumped to a small café on a side street in downtown Vegas. “The Diner” was my team’s favorite hangout, and it had the best hamburgers and milkshakes in town. It was decorated like one of the old 1960s diners, and was run by Madge, a superhero in the food service world.
When I appeared, Madge was behind the counter and there were no other customers in the place. Madge had her hair up like normal in a tight bun, and her brown waitress dress was two sizes too small as was always normal as well.
She turned around and smiled. “I was expecting you, Poker Boy,” she said. “I heard that little leprechaun fellow was going to ask you to help rescue his wife from the Silicon Suckers.”
“Word travels fast,” I said, smiling as she placed three thermoses of hot chocolate on the counter in front of me.
She knew that hot chocolate was the drug of choice for Silicon Suckers. It was more precious to them then gold was to humans. I had watched one Silicon Sucker take just a drop of hot chocolate and go into orgasmic shudders.
Three thermoses full would give me some real bargaining power for Mrs. Lenny.
“Thanks, Madge,” I said, dropping a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “Does that cover everything?”
She smiled and picked up the bill. “More than enough.”
Now I was down a hundred and ten for this adventure.
“See you soon,” I said.
I put one thermos into each pocket of my leather coat and then held the other one and jumped to the billboard on the highway.
The lights of the billboard lit up the surrounding highway, and a moment after I arrived on the sand under the billboard a car sped past, headed out of town. The driver must have gotten a shock me appearing in front of him like that.
The air was cold and the wind light, but brisk. I was glad I had on my coat. The high-desert winter cold wasn’t far away.
I moved over to where I knew the entrance of the Silicon Sucker’s city was, in the side of a sand hillside about twenty feet from the billboard.
A huge pair of high-heeled shoes lay there in th
e sand. And when I say huge, I don’t mean size twelve. Those things would be considered small boats for some people and I had no doubt that Lenny could put both feet into one shoe and have room to move his toes around. If leprechauns even had toes.
I didn’t see any tiny leprechaun shoes nearby, so I moved to the entrance, kicked off my own tennis shoes, and then bowed at the empty night air.
“Poker Boy would request the honor of entering a sacred city of the honorable Silicon Suckers. I have brought a gift.”
I bowed slightly and held up the thermos of hot chocolate.
A second later the opening to the Silicon Sucker underground city appeared and I stepped inside.
I was met ten steps inside by two Silicon Suckers. They bowed and wished me long life and a pleasant visit to their city.
I handed over my thermos of hot chocolate and the two carried it away carefully, both holding it like it was a bomb and might explode.
A moment later another Silicon Sucker appeared and bowed to me slightly. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Poker Boy.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I said, bowing as well. All Silicon Suckers looked pretty much the same, so I had no idea if I had met this one before or not.
He turned and I followed him through the narrow tunnel to a larger tunnel where a very, very large woman knelt on the sand floor looking very, very tired. At least she had not yet committed the deadly sin of falling asleep or leaning against a wall. She knew that much it seemed about Silicon Sucker rules.
Even kneeling and slumping, she was taller than I was, and I could barely fit in these tunnels. She must have walked on her knees just to get this far.
She was wearing a brown dress that looked dusty, and her hair was curly brown and short against her head. She had a very wide face with a nose that seemed to spread from one cheek to the other. At one point she had had on make-up, but that had run with tears.
I was almost afraid to ask, but I did anyway. “Is your husband a leprechaun?”
Not Saleable For Sale: A Poker Boy story Page 1