Cashed In

by Jackie Chance

  “I keep hearing that.”

  “And it’s done no good, I see. You ditched Superwoman again.”

  “I didn’t ditch her. I was kidnapped.”

  “By Ian?”

  “By Sam Hyun.”

  Frank drew his eyebrows together and glanced back into the room. “Where is he then?”

  “He doesn’t have anything to do with this. Ian saved me from Sam.”

  “And you ended up taped to a chair dangling over the Gulf.” Frank shook his head. “Honey Bee, only you would be rescued by someone more dangerous than your attacker.”

  I sighed. “I know. I guess I disproved Richard’s theory. I didn’t even get to win the tournament.”

  Frank leaned down. “Ah, but you might just win at love.” At first his five o’clock shadow scraping across my duct tape-treated lips burned, but then when his kiss made me burn other places, I didn’t notice the pain at all anymore.

  “Break it up, would you?” Ingrid called from inside. “We’ve got better things to do.”

  Frank slowly pulled his lips from mine. “Speak for yourself, Superwoman.”

  Ingrid snorted behind her mask, as she held Rhonda to the floor with a knee to her back and an arm up around her shoulder blades.

  “Where did you guys get masks? How did you know we even had pepper spray?”

  Frank shrugged. “We come prepared.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “FBG Enterprises.” Frank grinned. He knew I already knew this. Dammit. “Now you can’t tell me you don’t know who I work for.”

  I shook my head, glaring. “Cut me loose.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Frank said. “Not until I get all the rest of these creeps taken care of and can keep an eye solely on you.” He motioned to someone behind me. Joe lifted me off the ground and walked through the cabin and out the door. “Hey! Hey! What about my Dad?”

  “I’m right here, girlie,” Dad said as we made it out into the hall that was swarming with the playing-card shirts of cruise security. I thought I was going cross-eyed from all the red and black—spades, clubs, diamonds and hearts. Dad called as Joe weaved through the crowd, “Listen to these guys, they know what’s best for you.”

  Grr.

  “I need to find Jack,” I informed Joe.

  “Jack’s fine. He marched Sam Hyun at video camera point to the ship security. He’s being debriefed right now.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked Joe.

  “Where Frank says you belong.”

  Twenty-eight

  I heard the door open and I didn’t even look around. The morning sun was rising, casting a golden sheen on the water that I had been watching for so long I’d become nearly hypnotized. When you’re almost thrown off a ship three times in as many days, it’s time to trust that fate will step in if it’s not meant to be.

  Fate or Frank, that is.

  “You know,” I said to the sea. “It’s not a safe idea to tell a woman where she belongs and leave her to think about that for hours.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. It leaves her a long, long time to plan.”

  “Plan what?” His breath ruffled the hair at my nape.

  “Her revenge,” I answered as I felt his hands wrap around me, diving into the parting of my robe.

  “Will it be painful, her revenge?” he asked, his fingers exploring lightly.

  “Oh very.”

  “Will it be cruel?” He nuzzled my left earlobe.

  “The worst.” I pressed my backside into his Levi’s zipper.

  “Will it be inhumane?” His baritone caught as he drew in a sudden breath. I smiled. Slowly.

  “You are going to be out of your mind,” I assured him as I turned around and began.

  And we both were. For hours.

  And hours.

  “I think I’ve changed my mind about cruises,” I told Frank later as we lounged, legs stretched out, intertwined, sun warming our damp bodies on the balcony.

  “Hmm?”

  “They’re not so bad after all.”

  “As long as you don’t seek out murderers and mad scientists, I think they can be relaxing.”

  “Who knocked off the insurance investigator?”

  “Rhonda says it was Ian, because he was connecting the dots. We’ll know more when they examine his notes. If they find them.”

  “There are still some things I don’t understand. Why did Rhonda, Ian and Paul go into Cozumel?”

  “They were trying to see if they could arrange to get their brains off the ship at the next port. That’s been their MO. They bribe someone to take them or mail them to their secret lab in the mountains above Oaxaca. The authorities there located it.”

  I shivered. “Glad I wasn’t there to see that.”

  “You ought to be glad you weren’t there to be part of that.” Frank shook his head. “You almost were. The winner of the ring game was going to be drugged like Rick and walked off the boat at Tampico and kept for further study. Honey Bee, you have to learn to avoid this kind of danger from now on.”

  “Frank, how do I avoid it? Danger seems to find me. I mean, how many people go on cruises and have the excitement we had on this one?”

  “You know, Bee, very few people on the ship were aware of any of that ‘excitement’ otherwise known as danger. You, on the other hand, were right in the middle of it.”

  “But it’s not my fault!”

  “Okay,” Frank said with a patient sigh. “Let’s say it isn’t your fault. After all, your life was pretty dull and drab before a year ago, wasn’t it?”

  Now I was dull, drab and fat. Humph. I didn’t answer.

  Frank continued. “So, let’s find a common denominator. Your brother is one. Poker is two.”

  “And Frank is three,” I added.

  His eyes darkened dangerously. Ominously. Sexily. I untangled my legs from his and crawled on my hands and knees until I was lying on top of him. “You have to admit, you are a common denominator amid the trouble. Now if I knew more about you, I might decide that you are just a coincidental offshoot of the danger, but not knowing every detail of your life . . .”

  Frank shut me up by kissing me, long and hard. When we came up for air, he whispered, “Promise me, Honey Bee, you’ll give up poker.”

  “Promise me, you’ll tell me who Frank Gilbert really is.”

  “Hmmm.”

  We docked back in Galveston hours later. As we stepped onto the dock, we saw Rhonda, Paul and Sam being loaded into separate FBI rides. Reporters and cameramen swarmed around them, held back by uniformed Galveston police.

  A woman approached us on our left. “Hi, I’m a producer for Eyewitness News in Houston. My reporter was called off with our other cameraman to cover a bomb threat at the Galveston city hall. Can I ask you a few questions about what happened on the cruise?”

  I nodded toward my companion. “This is the guy you should talk to. Jack Smack is a freelance investigative reporter—he’s the one who broke the case.”

  Jack started to shake his head and I whispered in his ear. “This could be your big break. Be focused. Report!”

  Stepping away, I nodded in encouragement as the producer shoved the mic into Jack’s face. He started talking, only stuttering a time or two before he got a rhythm, and I could tell he was in journalist mode. He’d spoken for about a minute when he was signaled to stop.

  “I just got word, the producers are taking the feed live on Good Morning America,” the producer shouted as the camera man gave him a three-two-one countdown and cued him to speak. I couldn’t have been more proud of my own child. Jack was awesome, rocking with his report—stuttering only twice and sweating in rivulets down his back where the cameras couldn’t see. Frank, ultrasexy in his Levi’s, Luccheses and Ray-Bans, drew up next to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as Jack wrapped it up.

  The monitors showed the scene back in the studio in New York City, the anchors all giving a thumbs-up, one saying, “Good work, Jack. It
sounds like Jack Smack is on his way to being a household name. Watch out—looks like GMA has their own man in the trenches at the felt tables!”

  “A star is born.” Diane Sawyer chimed in.

  Ben had sidled up beside me, watching the TV monitor. “Are they talking about me again?” He said, meaning it, of course.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Not this time. Sorry, I think the mad scientists have eclipsed your tournament win.”

  “You’ll do anything to make sure I don’t get all the attention,” Ben whined, giving me a noogie. “But you won’t be able to steal it away when I go to the WSOP.”

  “You’re not going to fork out ten grand to be on the World Series of Poker,” I chided.

  “I don’t have to. I just won a seat.”

  “What?”

  “When you abandoned your seat, I won the Sea Gambler tournament by default,” Ben grinned. “And the first prize money and a seat at the WSOP.”

  Frank wore his great stone-cop face. I knew what he wanted me to say—that my brief and checkered career as a pro poker player was over.

  “I guess I can’t let you go alone,” I heard myself tell Ben. “Besides, it’s time for WSOP’s first woman winner.”

  Ben grabbed my hand and twirled me around. “World Series of Poker, here we come!”

  Frank shook his head as he walked away.

  Bee’s Buzz

  The Softer Secrets of Texas Hold ’Em . . .

  What I’ve found to be the top ten tells

  1. SIZE MATTERS

  By far, the number one most important tell is the bet, not the batting of eyes or the tapping of fingers while dishing it. What? The bet’s size? you may be saying. This from a self-proclaimed intuitive player? This from a woman who hates calculating probabilities? Yes! Yet, it still takes intuition to interpret the bet. Let me explain: You have to frame your interpretation of each bet according to the player who makes it. The Mouse sitting next to you who only calls the big blind if she has pocket rockets is scary if she raises on The Turn. On the other hand, the same move by the Maniac to her right is less scary, because he probably has nothing better than a two and eight off-suit, also known as a royal flop. Got it? Don’t try to pinhole players at first, just watch and feel. You’ll know when their bet means something.

  2. GAUGING THE CARAT OF THE DIAMOND

  You know the type . . . the people who keep studying their cards like they’ve changed since they last touched the felt. Wishful thinking. Nope, those cards are the same sad off-suit couple they were dealt to begin with. Too bad for them. Too good for you.

  3. BODYGUARDING THE POCKET

  Watch out for this one. Someone who is keeping a finger on their cards, has a hand inched out a little farther on the table than usual, or maybe even has leaned over the felt a bit more than they had been usually has a hand that is damned good. I even had one gal who scooted her chair up just a fraction closer to the table. Red flag. I folded. She had a royal flush.

  4. ANTS IN HIS PANTS

  The player who is bouncing out of their chair, unable to wait for you to fractionalize your probabilities and shove your chips forward, is usually reason enough for you to raise your bet. This guy has a weak hand and is just trying to freak you out. Let him dance for entertainment’s sake and get ready to rake in the chips.

  5. MAKING WHOOPEE

  No, not that kind of whoopee. The ha-ha kind. This is the guy who can’t hide the smile when he hits another set of trips on The Flop. This is the gal who is giggling at every stupid thing the dork next to her says because she is already holding a full house on Fourth Street. This is the luckiest person at the table, and he or she, more likely, is loving it. She can’t help it. Who doesn’t love finally having it her way? Get out of her way until her smile fades a bit.

  6. THE ICE MAN

  Now, I know they are sexy, those mirror-shaded men who look like they’re thinking of all the ways they would like to rip your clothes off. They are really thinking of how much money their three and nine off-suit will lose them if you don’t buy their bluff.

  7. BETTY BLASÉ

  Don’t confuse her with the ice-in-the-veins player described above. This one isn’t cool, she’s bored. Or rather, acting that way. This one looks like she could yawn at any moment, that she would rather be changing the oil in her car than playing cards. This one is dangerous. This one has a throne room in front of her with the rest of the court on The Flop.

  8. SPLASHING THE POT

  I know some grandstanders and fish who tend to do this all the time. They don’t last long at the table and soon learn their lesson. For the most part, when done irregularly, this is an actor’s move. Cavalierly flinging your chips into the pot is a cover for a weak hand. Don’t get psyched out unless the bet size tells you otherwise (see #1).

  9. I WONDER IF SHE’S MARRIED?

  The guy who is watching the woman across the table three seats off the bet like he’d like to ask her on a date is trouble for you, and not because you want him to buy you a drink. He can’t see her cleavage from over there so this is an obvious hoax. He is taking his eyes away from the action to hide his thrill over his strong hand. Otherwise he might do a backflip or start chortling hysterically at the bettor going all in when the guy we’re talking about already has a full house on The Flop.

  10. ADVANTAGE DENTISTS

  You really wouldn’t think dentists would have a natural advantage, now would you? They do, though, because dentists automatically want to check everyone’s teeth. If you can’t see a player’s mouth (okay, if not teeth, at least the lips), then feel free to raise on her. It’s a phenomenon I can’t explain—I really don’t know why people press their lips together when they’re dealt bad cards. Maybe they’re afraid the devil on their shoulder will make them give away the trash in their pocket.

  Heck, I’m feeling generous. I’ll throw in a bonus . . .

  11. WHERE’S THE HOURGLASS WHEN YOU NEED IT?

  The player who takes forever to make a bet usually has a decent drawing hand, so keep an eye on this one. If, after The Turn, she starts acting like Betty Blasé, you probably need to fold unless you’ve got something amazing. Of course, temper all of this with what you learned in #1. Hey, I never said Hold ’Em was cut and dried. If it were, winning would be easy!

  Really, though, who wants to hear from little old me? I found some tips from the real experts . . .

  “Women like to play because poker is heavily based on instincts. Women like to follow their gut.”—Jennifer Harman

  “You have to be very patient to win this tournament (WSOP’s Main Event) and get really lucky.”—Annie Duke

  “I have a very aggressive style of playing that disturbs people.”—Isabelle “No Mercy” Mercier

  “It’s got to be controlled aggression. There’s no point in all in, all in, all in. That’s not aggression. That’s kamikaze.”

  —Lucy “Golden Ovaries” Rokach

  “I would suggest to most women who play regularly with men to think about how they perceive you and play deceptively.” —Kathy Liebert

  “A pretty young thing can take advantage of getting men to check when ordinarily they would bet. It’s OK to play helpless if it saves your money.”—Cat Hulbert

  “When you show a negative attitude, you set yourself up for more defeat. Players who possess a positive attitude play better.”—Debbie Burkhead

  “Money management can be the difference between a winning day and a losing day, or a winning week and a losing week.”—Susie Isaacs

  “. . . men never think women are bluffing, so this makes it easier for us to get away with a bluff once in a while.”

  —Evelyn Ng

  “I still think there’s a lot of men that don’t really want women to be at the poker tables. If you open any poker magazine or all the websites, everything is advertised by scantily clad women. So a woman in this business is like, ‘Do I join the scantily clad women or do I try to be more like a man?’ I think that’s sort of th
e struggle.”

  —Jennifer “Unabombshell” Tilly

  “Someone once asked me why women don’t gamble as much as men do, and I gave the common-sensical reply that we don’t have as much money. That was a true but incomplete answer. In fact, women’s total instinct for gambling is satisfied by marriage.”—Gloria Steinem

  “Self-control, skill, and luck are all factors you have to have to win this game. Study, learn, and practice. Play poker. Don’t let poker play you. Know why you are playing the game.”—Sharla Lehrmann