Ingrid and Frank shared a look, then laughed. “Not a bad description,” Frank admitted.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. Roommates, huh? That might not have been so bad.”
Frank’s face darkened. His jaw clenched. “That wasn’t funny, Bee. You are in enough trouble after cozying up to that Ian Reno creep.”
“In trouble?” I said, feeling my back come up at his bossy tone. “What kind of trouble are you in with me for skulking around the ship for days, spying on me?” In retrospect, I could now place Frank as the employee with the familiar walk I kept seeing talking to Joe, the Marlboro Man.
“I was working.”
“Were you the presence I kept feeling in the hallway outside our cabin?”
Frank dropped his gaze guiltily.
“You jerk. Why did you do that when you had Superwoman here guarding me?”
“I had to make sure you were safe.”
“And why would you not tell me you were here on the ship? You think I can’t keep a secret?”
“Bee, when I am on a case, no one can know where I am or who I am.”
“I don’t know where you are and who you are when you aren’t on a case.”
Bingo. Frowning, Frank shook his head in frustration.
“Okay, so tell me about this case. Does it have to do with the disappearances?”
“The disappearances have worked into our case, which means you have worked into our case,” Frank said unhappily. He ran a finger along a strand of hair next to my face and tucked it behind my ear. “And you need to get out of the middle of it before you get really hurt.”
I looked from Ingrid to Frank and back. “Okay, I’ll get out of the middle if you tell me who you work for.”
Frank shook his head again, more sadly this time. “It’s classified, Honey Bee.”
“The government then?”
“Not exactly.”
“The military?”
“Not exactly.”
“I know! You two are mystery shoppers testing the gambling cruise!”
“No!” They both shouted, affronted, although I swear I saw Frank’s eyes twinkle.
“Finally a straight answer,” I said. “Although not the one I was looking for.”
“Bee,” Frank drew me close, kissing the top of my head, running his hand lightly down my back. Purr. “This is what you need to do instead of figuring out who signs our pay-checks: stay under wraps for the rest of the cruise. You’ve gotten into too many scrapes, and it’s making me crazy.”
“Don’t you want to know what I’ve found out?”
Frank held up a hand. “Stop, Bee. I want you to stay safe. Give up on the tournament. It’s not worth it. Go to your cabin. Go nowhere. Don’t open the door for anyone. Don’t even go out to eat. Missing a meal won’t hurt you. Ingrid will bring you something for breakfast.”
First, the scrapes weren’t my fault, which is how he made them sound. Second, Frank evidently thought I was fat. I could miss a meal, huh? I’d get him back. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” I said with studied calmness.
He raised his eyebrows, looking down at me curiously.
“Never be a sitting duck. My mother told me once that it was best to hide in plain sight.”
Frank glowered. Mostly because we had employed Elva’s advice with great success in Vegas with his approval.
He pulled me to him and whispered roughly in my ear, “Listen—”
“Dammit, Miss Cooley,” Kinkaid bustled up, paused, and gave me and Frank an aghast once-over. “You certainly do get around, don’t you?”
“What does that mean?” Frank asked, letting me go and drilling me with a heated stare.
“I just don’t have time to get into it, sir,” Kinkaid blew a piece of pinkish kinky hair out of her face as she turned to me. “I’ve had about enough of your prima donna act, Bee Cool. If it weren’t for your fans, I would’ve disqualified you as a no-show a long time ago, but they were all threatening to mutiny if I didn’t track you down for the tournament. If you’d wanted to make a grand entrance, we could have arranged it without all this hassle.”
I twiddled a two-finger wave at Frank and Ingrid who stood by helplessly as Kinkaid escorted me to the ballroom, although I noticed Frank kept us in sight until we got to the door.
Ringo, my sunglass hero, was waiting with a pair of sleek rectangular black Chanels as I crossed the threshold. I waved him off. “I remembered mine tonight,” I reached into my bag and felt around. Lipstick, key card, metal canister. Uh-oh. Something was wrong. I looked down. “Damnit. I must have picked up my mom’s purse.” I stared at her secret weapon, pepper spray. I had that and no glasses. Wasn’t that my life in a nutshell?
Still smiling, he slid the Chanels on my face. I gave him a peck on the cheek. “Ringo, you’re going to go broke buying me sunglasses. Go to Wal-mart. Make knockoffs chic.”
“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “Chanel will be begging us to wear their shades by next week.”
“How do you figure?”
“You’re going to win the tournament. It won’t be televised for a couple of months which will give us plenty of time to line up all the shades you wore as sponsors.
Kinkaid propelled me toward my table, but was called away by one of her minions waving from the check-in desk. Jack snagged me by the skirt hem. “Hey, dude, don’t get fresh,” I teased.
“W-where’s Ingrid?”
“Working,” I said vaguely, wanting to warn him that it was going to be a long hard road being in love with a pseudopsychology educated, fashionista, bodyguard, flack, secret security whatever. But I wasn’t quite up to killing his in-love glow at the mention of her name. Humph. I used to be that way, until my lover deceived and spied on me then had the gall to discount any important information I might have, went on to boss me around and call me fat.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked. “Aren’t you g-going to fill m-me in?”
I outlined the Rick drug revelation even though I didn’t know the whodunit. “You know anything?”
“I found out S-Sam the Man Hyun has been on three other c-cruises over the past couple of years from which people have d-disappeared. All three were p-poker players.”
“How did you confirm it?”
“Journalist friend of mine. We’ve been t-telegraphing each other since the e-mail went down.”
“The problem is proving it. We would have to catch him in the act. And, who is helping him? There were at least two people trying to fling me out the window at the spa.”
“I have an idea. Why d-don’t you go out there and beat him in the t-tournament, then make a point of wandering off alone on this aft d-deck? I’ll be waiting out behind that huge j-joker sculpture with a video c-camera.”
I shook my head. “All his attacks have been preplanned. Remember, the surveillance cameras are covered.”
“Okay, then pass Hyun a n-note that you want to meet with him after the t-tournament at that location.”
“He might get suspicious with his target going on the offensive.”
“He’s escalating anyway if he’s wh-whacked three people on one cruise. I imagine he’s already at the d-desperate stage. It’s worth a t-try as long as we keep you safe. Basically, we only need him to make an aggressive m-move to get the authorities to look into it.”
Kinkaid had hustled over and grabbed my arm, dragging me to my table. Speaking of aggressive. “Chatty Kathy is out of here,” she snapped at Jack over her shoulder.
As I nodded to everyone at the table, Kinkaid signaled Rhonda to order the deal.
I hoped luck would swing my way. Tonight was the night I needed to catch some cards.
Pocket sevens weren’t exactly what I would call the luckiest deal in Texas Hold ’Em, but I decided that I had to come into the game aggressive and raised the big blind by fifteen thousand. It wasn’t exactly a bluff, but it was a gamble. And wasn’t that the name of the game? I scared off Ian, Sam and two of the other amateurs; the other three at th
e table called, so I figured they had enough to stay in the game, which was probably more than I had. Still I hung in, reraising a thousand before The Flop of five of diamonds, two of diamonds, seven of clubs. Boy, was I lucky. I needed to use this as long as the cards fell my way. I raised again and knocked another player out, leaving me Rhonda and a nervous man who I gauged to be a total Mouse. I bet he had a hand and a half. Maybe a straight draw or flush? Damn. Fourth Street was a six of diamonds. Double Damn. I raised ten thousand, hoping to run the Mouse off since I couldn’t read Rhonda clearly quite yet and would just have to hope she wasn’t the one with the flush. Rhonda raised and reraised. The Mouse finally caved. Rhonda went all in with just a thousand less chips than I had. Holding my breath, I went all in with her.
Seven of spades fell on The River.
It was my night, not Rhonda’s. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a solid read on her. Shaking her head in self disgust, she threw in her pocket flush, pushed herself away from the table and stalked off, sparing a hateful glare at me. I really didn’t blame her, but it still made me fight off a bit of a chill.
I was in the enviable position now of being chip leader at our table by a long shot, which gave me the automatic psychological advantage. I played the next five hands aggressively, caught the cards I needed and won usually head-to-head with the other player who’d hung in—never the same person. I think I probably had the second-best hand every time—winning with two middle pair, a flush, pocket rockets and once with just a King kicker—but managed to scare off the better hand along the way. I did fold the hand after the kicker win, because Sam decided I’d been bluffing and raised me outrageously when all I had in my pocket was a Queen, a ten and a bad feeling. The next hand, though, I was dealt pocket rockets with an Ace on The Flop and I rode that out, winning twenty-five thousand in chips and knocking out both the Mouse and Ian.
Ian leaned down to whisper in my ear as he exited, “You are amazing. Sometime soon I’ll see into that mind of yours.”
Sam was a rigid textbook player, which isn’t a bad thing. It allowed him to stay in the game but didn’t necessarily allow him to adjust for others’ runs of luck or unpredictable behavior. He apparently was in the Annie Duke camp, and didn’t wear sunglasses. Still, his face was so unreadable I’d have to say it was an advantage for him to have such a blank slate open for viewing. It was very disconcerting.
It was down to the three of us at our table an hour later—Sam, a Maniac amateur with a wretched temper, and me. Looking around, there were only about a dozen players left around the room, including Ben who surprisingly looked like the tournament chip leader. Kinkaid announced table consolidation after the current hand.
I peeked under Frank’s marker at the Jack of spades, ten of clubs. I’ve folded this hand before, but usually at a full table. There were better draws out there that Sam could have, but it sure cut down the odds that only six of the cards were out instead of twenty. I was the small blind, so went with a modest raise of five thousand. Sam raised. I guessed he had a high pair. The Maniac, angrily smacking his chips into a stack, pushed in a call. I met the bet. I prayed for a great flop.
It came a two of spades (the Maniac moaned), King of spades (I mentally moaned) and a 10 of spades (I looked to heaven behind my Chanels).
We all walked a high wire with our bets. With a semidecent pair and a flush draw, I wanted to scare everyone away but couldn’t without depleting my chip stack too seriously. I wanted to be able to play even with Ben in the next hand.
The Turn brought a Jack of diamonds. The Maniac went all in which made me wonder what he had under his marker. Sam and I both met the bet, leaving me with a couple thousand chips and Sam with only a handful. The Maniac swore a blue streak, ripped his earphones out and then I knew he’d been bluffing.
An eight of spades fell on Fifth Street.
Now Sam smiled. He turned over his pocket for a pair of eights and a pair of Kings. His smile faded to a frown when he saw my cards.
Twenty-seven
Thankfully, I got to keep my seat. I was superstitious before I became a Texas Hold ’Em player and the game has only made it worse. I really think that if the cards are falling one way on a table, they will keep falling that way the rest of the game. That’s why I find HORSE so fascinating. Playing for high cards then playing for low, takes talent and adaptability—throw in the luck factor and it certainly makes for interesting play.
The tournament was down to nine players. The only poker stars left were the Russian and me—by default, certainly, since four of the best players hadn’t had the chance to finish. Kinkaid sat Ben next to me, on purpose, I’m certain. With TV cameras rolling for a future telecast the cruise line would heavily promote, the more drama the better. Maybe she thought we’d get in a knock-down-drag-out à la Jerry Springer.
Maybe we would.
I had to fold the first six deals with no suited cards, no pairs and nothing higher than a nine, and I wondered if I’d used all my luck in the first half of the night. It worked out well for me, however, since four of the remaining players were eliminated in dramatic fashion by Ben and the Russian while I sat hording chips, not even forced to post a blind. Kinkaid swung by and whispered a warning. “You and your bro better not be in collusion. If I find proof, I’ll have you punished.”
She sounded so anticipatory of the prospect that I couldn’t help asking, “Punish me how? By flipping me over the railing like the poor insurance investigator?”
Kinkaid drew back in shock then leaned in, smiling so the cameras couldn’t pick up her animosity. “Are you kidding? I’d rather see you tortured slowly as you’ve tortured me this whole cruise—having to give up all your fancy clothes and money and look out from behind bars for years rather than something quick and easy like being sucked into the Gulf waters or chomped to death by a sharp-toothed shark.”
Aw, so warm and fuzzy. I smiled at her. Ben was watching us with eyebrows raised over his John Lennon lenses.
The dealer called my attention to the bet. I peeked at my pocket and frowned at the Ace and King of clubs peeking back. I had a hard time lying, but with shades, I could manage a pretty good poker face. Over the last couple of months I’d been experimenting with opposite reactions and found they not only helped me curb my emotions at the table but also often threw off other players.
I sat at the button but had missed the bets while verbally dueling with Kinkaid, so quickly reviewed them now. Every player had stayed in the game, but conservatively. That meant Ben had nothing in his hand or he’d have hit the felt hard. I didn’t know about the rest except Sam, who I guessed from his bet had either an Ace high or a high pair otherwise he’d have folded.
I wanted to milk the hand for more chips so I called all the way to The Turn. Nobody had padded the pot by much, even though The Flop came a four of hearts, ten of clubs, King of hearts. Fourth Street showed an Ace of diamonds. With two pair I had to raise but Sam beat me to it. He had a pair of something, maybe three of a kind. But I had the two highest pairs so I had to hold my breath and go all in. Everybody but Sam ducked out, grumbling.
I nailed the full house on The River with an Ace of hearts and shook my head in amazement. Smiling again, Sam turned over his two pair, Aces and Kings, and cupped his hands around the chips. He’d slid them halfway toward himself when I slowly turned up my cards. His eyes widened, then narrowed to black slits as his grin faded and he lifted his hands up off the felt. He snatched up his jacket, jammed it on and stuck a hand in the pocket where I’d slipped the note I’d written earlier. His brows drew together as he pulled it out. The dealer had distributed our pocket cards, so I peeked at them while watching Sam read my note.
Meet me at the aft deck after the tournament and I’ll share some tips on how to win the game of modern Hold ’Em.
—BC
Sam stared at me a beat and then stomped off, anger radiating from him in almost tangible waves. He was mad enough now to kill, that was for sure. I just hoped Jack wou
ldn’t let me down or I was going to be in real trouble.
The tournament ended up being an advertising dream come true. If I hadn’t been involved, I think Kinkaid would have been giddy. Ben had been luckier than I’d been in catching cards and despite his wild, overconfident betting we ended up heads up at the end of the tournament. Every now and then I could hear the TV commentators in the corner of the room having a field day with the Hold ’Em twins—Bee Cool and Ben . . . what?
“What are they calling you?” I leaned into my brother.
He shrugged and winked into a camera. “Ben Hot.”
Oh gag, his ego had been overblown enough as it was. Instead of razzing him about it, I just nodded, hoping the more distracted he became with his stardom, the more likely I would be to sneak away with the last hand. It worked for a while. I had him down to a third of my chips. It was time to step it up. At the break, he was inundated with giggling women wanting his autograph in and on all sorts of interesting places.
I waited until most of our audience had cleared the room, then escaped to the restroom. Ingrid was sulking outside in the hall and fell into step with me as I went around the corner to a less crowded facility. We ducked in.
“I thought you were working, Ingrid,” I observed coolly.
“I am,” she sulked. “Frank is my boss on this project. He’s decided babysitting you is more important than the real job.”
“That’s silly. I’m in a public place on film for goodness’ sake. I don’t think anyone will try to snag me during the tournament.”
She shrugged as she pushed into the first stall. “That’s what I told him. He said the last time you were in trouble you were shot at on live TV. I pointed out that this tournament is taped, so any bloodshed would be edited out. He’s just not reasonable when it comes to you.”
I no sooner heard the lock slide on her door than the restroom door opened and in my peripheral vision I could see a figure charge toward me. Before I could cry out in surprise, a hand with a wet handkerchief clamped down over my mouth. My vision went blurry, the room spun. I felt like I was drunk. I started to giggle.
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