High Stakes (A Dark Romance)

by Vanessa Waltz

  It’s happy hour, and a big sign written in white chalk advertises two-dollar beers. Maria bellies up to the counter, somehow attracting the bartender’s attention immediately in a way that I could have never done. He’s a scruffy looking guy with tattoos all over his arms. His gaze flicks down Maria’s low-cut shirt before meeting her beaming gaze.

  “Two beers!”

  In seconds, Maria hands me a dripping mug of golden beer. We clink our glasses together and drink. She tugs my elbow and we squeeze deeper into the bar, somehow finding a table scattered with peanut shells and wet rings. I ease into the wooden chair with a sigh. Damn, it feels good. It’s cheap beer, but it fills my belly with warmth.

  One drink, I tell myself. You’ll have one drink tonight.

  It’s so easy to find comfort in alcohol. One’s hardly enough. Three or four? Now, you’re talking. But I’m trying to ease up on the drinking. It’s so hard to give up. It instantly quiets the noise in my head, and I feel more peaceful. Safe, even.

  “After this we’re doing shots.” Maria’s innocent looking face smirks as I make a face, and then her hand dives into her Prada bag to search for her buzzing, jeweled phone. “It’s Jackie. He’s gonna join us.”

  Jackie is her cousin, who I’ve known just as long as Maria. The two of them always got along pretty well. He is always at every birthday party and family function. He’s there at every Sunday dinner, which Maria would bring me along occasionally. They are more like siblings, really. I try not to seethe with jealousy whenever I see them together. I want that. I want a brother, a sister, and a slew of cousins. How could anyone ever feel lonely with such a big family? All I ever had was Mom, who never made me feel loved.

  I swallow a huge gulp of beer and hide behind my glass, as if the people in the bar can read my ugly thoughts. It would make Mom cry.

  I’m a terrible daughter. I’ve resigned myself to that fact for years.

  A pair of jocks tap Maria’s shoulder and she looks over her shoulder, sunglasses still on, to judge them with a single swipe of her eyes. A smile flits on her face, neither inviting nor rejecting them.

  The taller one with a Yankees baseball cap shouts something, but we can’t hear it in the din. He leans closer to her ear. Maria straightens and nods at them. She points towards the pool tables in the back and mimes aiming a cue. I shake my head. I’ll stay here, I mouth to her.

  Just like that, she’s disappears with the two jocks. We weren’t even here fifteen minutes.

  For ten minutes, I sit there by myself in the darkness like an asshole, not even attempting to socialize. All alone, sipping my beer like it’s a lifeline. Unable to take it anymore, I fish a deck of cards out of my purse and lay them on the table, playing a quick game of solitaire.

  Occasionally, I scan the bar filled with college students. I find a handsome face and I wonder what it’d be like to have him as a boyfriend. His eyes dart towards me, as if he can feel me staring at him, and I quickly look back down to my game.

  Coward.

  This just isn’t my realm. In the classroom, I’m comfortable. I destroy every exam I come across. My intelligence isn’t a gift; I’ve worked hard my whole life to get good grades. Something about getting those exams back makes me feel good about myself. Nobody could take that away from me. Lately, though, the satisfaction isn’t the same.

  Or maybe I’ve finally realized how goddamn empty my life is.

  “You!”

  A male voice cuts through the din and I look up to see a red-faced, bearded guy looking down on me. My senses immediately go on high alert. Bristling, I fix the guy with a glare.

  “What?”

  “I want to buy me—I mean, you, a drink.”

  How fucking perfect. Nothing annoys me more than being hit on by drunken idiots. I can’t trust men in bars. They just want something from you, and there’s no way to figure out what until you go home with them. Who knows? He could be a rapist. A jolt of fear makes me scan the bar. Any one of them could be, really.

  “No thanks.”

  “I mean it! I want to buy you a drink.”

  “Go away.”

  The heat in my voice makes him blink. He stumbles away with a slightly hurt look on his face, and I turn back to my drink, forgetting him almost instantly.

  “Hey!”

  I jump a bit in my seat as Jackie sits down in front of me. He’s not a big guy. Probably around my height with short black hair and an olive skinned face. Jackie has a boyish, trusting face. It’s one that I’ve seen countless times, so I can’t help but feel comforted when he smiles at me.

  “Where’s Maria?”

  I smirk and nod my head towards the back. She’s already wearing the jock’s baseball cap and I can almost hear her giggling all the way over here. “She’s doing her thing.”

  Maria leans over the pool table as she takes a shot, her tits nearly falling out.

  “Maddon.” He shakes his head at his cousin and averts his gaze to the cards on the table. “Wanna play Blackjack or something?”

  He knows me too well. “Sure. Get yourself a drink.”

  Jackie sits back down with a beer and we take turns dealing and playing. My eyes scan over the cards flipped down, keeping a mental tally of the ratio of high value cards to low.

  If I only I had the guts to try this at a casino, I would be rich.

  “How do you do that?”

  I shrug. “It’s all probability. Counting card values.”

  Suddenly, Maria returns with her jocks, all of them a little more tipsy than they were an hour ago.

  “Jackie-boy!”

  She bends down to affectionately give her cousin a kiss. Her cheeks glowing, she introduces us to the meat-heads who stand on either side of her like boulders. I forget their names immediately. Jackie rises from his seat to gather more chairs. The whole bar is in full swing, but somehow the jocks’ massive bodies block the sound from reaching our inner circle.

  “So, we’re playing Blackjack?”

  I sink into a happy, warm stupor as the cards fly out of Maria’s hands. She doesn’t know all the rules so I have to constantly remind her what to do. I know the ratio of high cards to low. The higher the ratio of high value cards in the shoe, the more I would bet. Since we aren’t betting, all I have to concern myself with are the odds.

  I imagine the chips piling up in little heaps. If this were a casino, I would be rich.

  Too bad card counting will get you kicked out.

  The one with the Yankees baseball cap frowns at me, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I can almost hear his thoughts: How is this chick winning?

  “She counts cards,” Jackie pipes up, sounding a bit drunk.

  I elbow his side and he grunts.

  “Well that’s not fair,” one of them protests.

  My eyes wander over the table, unintentionally adding a one or subtracting. I can’t help myself. Even if I wanted to, I can’t play a game without the ratios burning in my head.

  They seem determined to beat me, and Maria looks at me with a grudging smile.

  “I’m bored!” She stands up with her purse and yawns.

  “Wait—” One of them wakes up, finally notices that the hot girl is leaving and that he better make a move.

  To my amazement, his gaze is pulled back towards the game. He gives me an irritated look and stands up after her. “Can I get your number?”

  I roll my eyes as I watch Maria’s crossed arms.

  “Nah. I don’t date guys who can’t beat my friend at cards.”

  Wow. That’s bitchy, even for her. Jackie laughs behind his hands and I kick his foot.

  He leans over to me as they argue. “Hey, want to go to a real card game this weekend?”

  The hushed tone in his voice piques my interest. “What do you mean?”

  “High-stakes. It’s five thousand just to sit in. You should come and watch.”

  His round eyes are big with excitement.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”<
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  Chapter 2

  Maria hogs the full-length mirror in our apartment, posing in her pink dress, her long, black hair shining down her back. I admire the way the dress hugs her curves and wince at my own reflection partially hidden behind her. All I have are jeans and t-shirts with varying degrees of shabbiness. I haven’t bought so much as a sock in several years.

  She bites her pink lip as her dark lashes wink towards me. “You’re going to wear that?” she says delicately.

  My face burns, confronted with my own inadequacy. “I know. I don’t really have anything.”

  Maria revolves around me and I see myself standing in the mirror with my tired jeans and faded black shirt. I look awful. There’s no way I can go to this fancy card game.

  “Fuck it. I’ll just stay here.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Just pick something from my closet.”

  Before I can speak, she marches to her closet and slides open the door, carefully studying her collection, which is sorted by color. Her thin arm rifles through its contents, picking out a black body-conscious dress with lace in the front and back. She grins. “Try this.”

  I take the dress from her and gingerly and study the thick, stretchy material of the dress before taking off my jeans and t-shirt and pulling it on. The fabric is smooth but thick, almost like bandage. It’s tight around my chest and stomach. I reach back and can’t zip up the rest. Maria helps me zip it up and she gasps as she steps back and looks at me.

  A woman with messy, dark brown hair stands in front of the mirror in a black dress that accentuates her every curve. I turn to the side to see the back and the girl turns as well, exposing the sheer lace that dips down to the middle of my back. There’s lace over my breasts, too. The sweetheart silhouette barely covers them up. The woman in the mirror blushes violently.

  “Maria! This is way too much!”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s perfect! Look at how amazing you look!” Maria practically sprints to her closet and retrieves a pair of strappy black pumps that she demands I put on immediately.

  “It’s so tight.” I spread my hands over my stomach. The dress is flattering; it smoothes out any bumps I would have. God, maybe I am attractive.

  My feet slide into the pumps and I wobble a bit on my feet, feeling like I might tip over. It’s lucky that we have the same shoe size. She squeals with delight.

  “Maria, I don’t know if this is me.”

  “You’re right, it’s not you. That’s why it looks so amazing.”

  I throw a bundled up pair of my dirty socks at her head, but casually steps aside to avoid them, still grinning.

  “Please, Adriana. Let me take care of everything.”

  Her brown eyes are sparking with excitement. I can almost feel the giddy waves rolling from her body. She likes this sort of thing. Me? The attention embarrasses me. I like to linger in the background, unnoticed. But that’s not completely true, is it? Aren’t I jealous of Maria?

  Yes, I am, but I’m comfortable with being unnoticed, and wearing this dress is like hanging a neon sign around my neck: LOOK AT ME!

  She flies like a butterfly to and from her vanity, making me sit down as she applies my makeup. Eyeliner. Lipstick. I ask her not to give me too much, but she ignores me. She attacks my hair with a brush and spritzes floral conditioner or something over my head. My hair is already straight, but she takes out her straightener and goes through every strand carefully.

  Finally, she lets me get up to look at myself in the mirror. My jaw drops, because the girl in the mirror is not me. She’s the woman I’ve always admired at clubs, the girl who knows exactly how to show off her beauty. She’s stunning. I have flawless, shining hair and the moisturizer she used makes my face shine. To my surprise, there’s not too much makeup, but what little there is makes a huge different. My eyes pop.

  Maria utters another squeal and grabs my hand. I squeeze it back and my throat closes up.

  “Maria, you’re amazing. Thank you.”

  She fusses a little bit. “I wonder if we should put your hair up, actually. You have such delicate features. No, I don’t want to overdo it.”

  Then she glances at her phone and shrieks. “Shit! We were supposed to be downstairs ten minutes ago—I got so caught up in everything.”

  I tear my eyes from the mirror and grab my clutch. Jackie is waiting for us downstairs. We leave the dorm and lock it up, me trying to keep up with Maria’s frantic pace in these ridiculous heels. Thankfully, we take the elevator down and see Jackie’s car waiting for us. It’s so lucky that there isn’t traffic.

  Ever the gentleman, Jackie steps out to open the door. His dark eyes pass over me, not recognizing me at first.

  “Whoa.”

  My face burns when he looks back at me with a shocked look on his face.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Maria!”

  She’s making me even more self-conscious, but Jackie’s face goes pink as he nods and agrees. I’ve never seen him look so shy.

  I slide into the backseat with Maria as her crazed energy overfills the car.

  “I’m so fucking pumped,” she screams.

  “Jesus, keep it down!” Jackie grimaces as we both erupt with laughter.

  I watch the rolling, bright streets of Manhattan, my heart flying with happiness. I feel young and alive, for the first time in a long while.

  Tonight is going to be great.

  He drives us to a Hilton hotel, but parking is a bitch. We find a garage five blocks away, but I don’t mind. People stare at us as we walk by, perhaps wondering what we’re doing in this part of town, dressed up so nice. A car filled with young guys honk at us and a smile pulls at my face.

  Maria hollers at them with another one of her energetic screams and I can’t help but join in. Jackie, looking sharp in his suit, shoves his hands deep in his pockets and shakes his head at us.

  We head inside the hotel, my heels clacking loudly on the marble floor, and enter the elevators. Jackie presses the button for the twelfth floor.

  His quiet voice cuts through our chatter. “So, I probably should mention that this card game we’re going to is not exactly—ah—legal.”

  “What?” Maria shrieks.

  “It’s no big deal,” he shrugs. “Just don’t mention this to anyone else, okay? My brother said we could come, but he doesn’t want any other outsiders.”

  His brother? I didn’t know much about Jackie’s brother, other than the fact that he was older than Jackie.

  “Uh, ok.”

  Maria and I exchange a strange look. Illegal card games? What exactly am I getting myself into?

  It’s too late to turn back now. The elevator pings and the doors slide open. We can already hear it before we see it. Somewhere down these halls is a party. Dozens of people’s muffled voices and laughter reach us.

  Jackie smiles. “They bought the rooms down the hallway, so there wouldn’t be complaints.”

  Whoa.

  A couple dressed like us stops in front of a huge bouncer who guards the door. He checks their IDs and a list on phone before letting them in. The door opens and I catch a glimpse of people dressed to the nines.

  He’s an intimidating guy. At least 6’5” with a bald, shiny head. He’s more fat than muscle, but it’s clear that one swipe of his ham-like fists could knock us back to last month.

  “Name,” he barks.

  “Jackie Rizzuto. Brother of Frank Rizzuto.”

  He looks at the ridiculously small notepad in his hands and nods. His eyes rove over Maria and I. Boulder-man gives me a small smile as he backs up and opens the door for us.

  It’s a massive suite with tables and tables of hors d’oeuvres. I can see two rooms in the suite, and the one we’re currently standing in is packed with men in suits and women in cocktail dresses. Everyone is much older than us, but that doesn’t stop Maria from bouncing to the nearest table.

  “Look!”

  It’s a kleptomaniac’s paradise. There’s a three-lev
el tier filled with chocolate truffles and petit fours. I want to scoop it all into my purse. She grabs a few and bites into one of them, making an ecstatic moan. There’s little baked tarts, smoked salmon, glasses and glasses of champagne. A man standing in front of a white booth makes drinks. Around all of the tables laden with food are guards standing around the perimeter. A tiny sting of fear bites at my skin as I look at them. There’s something about them that’s downright ominous.

  Don’t steal anything.

  My palms sweaty, I lean my neck and gaze into the next room, which is significantly quieter. There must be at least five felt tables set up. Old men that I recognize as dealers are settled behind them, except for one. In this room, a group of men smoke and drink as they occasionally look back into the room. The poker tables draw me in, but I feel another tiny prick of fear as I watch them. There are small heaps of chips on the tables, and I feel a desperate pull to snatch one and add it to my pile of memorabilia. Another trinket, another trophy.

  “It’s five-thousand just to sit in,” Jackie hisses in my ear.

  I almost jump at the sound of his voice. I’ve no desire for the drinks and food; I just want to play poker. Or at least watch them play. Most of them are much older than me, and they occasionally glance my way as if wondering why I’m staring at them.

  One of them, a man whose skin hangs off his neck, looks at me. “Come inside, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

  I step into the room gingerly, Jackie hanging back to say hello to his brother. Maria joins me at my elbow and I breathe a sigh of relief. The old man’s smile is so encouraging, so friendly, that I feel a little more confident and I graze my hands over the felt.

  “What are you doing in here?” Maria whispers. Like me, she feels the need to keep quiet.

  I shrug. “I like poker. That’s why I came. I’m going to watch their games. You can go back if you like.”

  I’m hoping that she doesn’t, because I feel a bit uneasy, but she says that she’s going to mingle for a little bit. I swallow hard when her warmth disappears from my side, but the men in the middle of the room aren’t really paying attention to me. I catch snippets of their conversation.