Ride the Lucky

by Kendric Neal

  Neely reeled, he hadn't thought of any of this. He'd seen this play as safe, strictly safe. All he could stammer out was, “Please…”

  “Please. Tough guy now. Please. Piss off.” Gus nodded to one of the twins again and he bent back one of Neely's fingers. “No, not on the table.” Neely screamed as he felt it break. “One more…”

  “No! STOP!! WAIT!!” Too late, another finger snapped loudly.

  “I got time. You got eight more.”

  “Stop! God! Wait, I didn't cheat. Wait!! WAIT! LISTEN!!” The twin broke one more regardless and Neely couldn't stop tears from running down his face and the piss from running down his leg. “I'll tell you the story. You want to know the truth. You couldn't see me cheating because it's luck. It's luck! It's a streak. It's a curse. I'm lucky. I haven't been able to lose since it happened, I know I can't lose. I couldn't if I tried.”

  “Since what happened?”

  “The accident. Do you really think I could fool you? At four different games?! Isn't that why this doesn't make sense to you? You've seen every trick in the book, how the hell is an amateur going to fool you at four different games?” Gus shifted. “You didn't see it because it wasn't there. Some old Indian woman put a curse on me because I killed her grandson. I spun his car out. He got killed, I didn't. I was lucky.”

  He saw the expression on Gus's face change but the new one wasn't any better. Gus thought he was crazy— he was looking at him with pity now. “Indian woman, huh? Curse of the lucky.”

  “Yeah. Curse of the lucky. She made it so I can't lose. I'll win at gambling but I'll lose everything else. You're right, Hope doesn't know. Neither do my kids. And I'm going to lose them. That's the old biddy's revenge. I'm going to lose them the way she lost her goddamn grandson.”

  “Well, that's an interesting story, Neely. But it still leaves me with a problem.”

  “Keep the money. I don't even want it.”

  “That's kind of you, of course, but that's not going to cut it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have people I answer to. They don't give a shit about the money, they care about you.”

  “What about me?”

  “They got computers and crap that tells them what I already told 'em. Something hinky went on with a guest named Neely Thomas last night. Something seriously hinky. He defied odds that shouldn't be defied. Universal odds, incontrovertible odds. You've looked around by now, we look like vain men to you?” Neely realized he was referring to the mirror that took up half a wall on the other side of the office. “They're not going to let this go as luck.”

  “I told you I'd give it back.”

  “Too late for that, Neely. We got to resolve this.”

  “By what? Breaking the rest of my fingers?”

  “For starters.”

  “Then what? Bury me in the desert? Put up a big billboard, 'This Is What We Do to Winners'?” The other men in the room chuckled. Neely didn't have any better ideas, so he ran with it. “Be bad for business, wouldn't it? Kind of kills the fantasy.”

  “You're a funny guy, Neely. I like a guy can be funny at a time like this.”

  “Gives new meaning to 'What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.' Especially if you win.”

  He was milking it now, but he was desperate and a couple of the guys were still chuckling. Neely heard a phone ring and watched Gus pull a phone out of his pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  Neely tracked Gus's eyes to the mirror and finally realized the real powers behind the casino were watching through the glass. He caught something else, too. There was a note of deference in Gus's manner, and he wondered what kind of person could make someone like Gus act with pure deference. “Alright.” Gus hung up without a goodbye. Neely had a feeling this crowd didn't take time for goodbyes.

  “We got a proposition for you,” Gus said to him. “You're telling me you're lucky. You believe in stories, superstitions. Okay, I've heard weirder tales.”

  “You wanted the truth, that's it. That's the truth.”

  “This luck of yours. You still got it?”

  “Til it kills me.”

  “Aptly put. Tell you what. These men I answer to, they're like me, they've spent their lives in this business. They'll buy it if you can prove it.” He nodded to one of the twins, who brought him a carton from the credenza. “We cut cards, new deck every draw, high card wins. I got cameras in the ceiling, they watch you through the glass. You win, you walk. I win, game over. You understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You clear on the stakes?”

  “I'm clear.”

  “I got twenty decks in the box. We draw twenty times, new deck each time. Only we're not talking best of, anybody can do that, you gotta win 15 of 20. You gotta prove luck, real luck, Neely.”

  “15 of 20?!”

  “That's right. Royal Flush lucky. Ought to be nothing to you.”

  Neely sighed, it was an insane bet, it was nuts, he was being punished for winning. “Fine.”

  CHAPTER 15

  By the time they slit the seal on the fifth deck, Neely had won 3 and lost 2. Gus asked if he wanted a drink and Neely realized despite the hour he'd never wanted a drink so badly in his life. “A double of anything.”

  “I know you're a bourbon drinker.” Gus took out a bottle of Jim Beam Black and poured Neely a glass. “Still a little early for me,” he said, putting it back in the drawer. One of the twins reached for a new deck as the other put a deck down. He shuffled, Gus cut it, then Neely, having to set his drink down to do it since he only had one good hand, drew a 10. Gus drew a Jack. “3 to 3,” said Gus.

  Neely tossed back the shot, forgetting it was a double and feeling the burn linger. He was going to have to go 12 and 2 from here on out to win. 12 and 2 to live. Maybe this was the cure for gambling, or maybe this was what all gamblers really wanted all along—playing for their lives. Neely drew a 6, Gus drew a 6. They put them back, recut, and drew again. Neely a 10, Gus an Ace. “4 to 3.”

  Neely looked up at the twins—they were watching impassively. Neely wondered if this scene had occurred in this office before. Hard to tell, their expressions were inscrutable. He was sure of one thing, though—they'd seen worse…he could see that on their faces. On the next go, Neely drew a 5 and Gus drew a 2. “4 to 4.” They drew again, this time Gus with a 9 and Neely with a 7. “5 to 4,” Gus said. Without asking, he drew out the Jim Beam and poured Neely another shot. Neely nodded thanks. At least the man had mercy.

  Neely drank it all before cutting the next deck. He no longer liked the odds, he no longer was feeling lucky at all. What if this had been the old woman's point? What if the luck was meant to lure him, give him false confidence, make him think he was invincible? The streak had gotten him here, if it deserted him now he'd get no worse than the Naccahaw boy did. Neely drew a 6, Gus drew a 4. “5 to 5”. The old woman had fixed him pretty good, he had to admit. What was that about too much of a good thing? What if you were so lucky you couldn't lose? What if you got everything you ever dreamed of and then found yourself sitting in some gangster's office with three broken fingers, a tootful of whiskey, playing toss-up for your miserable life? Would Hope laugh or cry? Neither. She'd shake her head in disgust and walk away. As anyone should. This was a pathetic turn even for Neely, even for a lying, irredeemable gambler. This was bottom. Hell, he'd already passed bottom, this was what was below bottom. He thought of that well in their favorite cabin, the well with the liner in it, the bottom below bottom. Maybe that's where it lived. Maybe that was his new address as well.

  He won again, Queen against a 3. “5 to 6.” Nine wins in a row, he'd need. Nine wins, straight out. Either that or a drive to the desert with the robot twins. Not a word spoken. Gus wouldn't remember him, neither would the twins. By nightfall they'd be making love to their wives and girlfriends, sipping their beers, watching the football recaps, Neely's life a stale and distant memory. Gangsters were a lot more entertaining in the movies, he thought. They were al
ways cracking wise and giving you crap. In real life, they just seemed dead already.

  Gus drew a Jack, Neely drew a Jack. They went again and Gus drew a 5, Neely a 5. One more, and Gus drew a 2, Neely a 2. Finally, Neely won with a King over 8. “5 to 7.” Neely downed another shot and knew he was already drunk. He didn't think it mattered. His luck wouldn't be affected, and if he lost he'd be glad for it. Maybe it'd be better anyway, he'd never have to face Hope, see her disappointment, see his kids give him that look he dreaded, the moment they saw that their dad wasn't a man to admire at all. Even worse, the look inward that followed, asking themselves if it was something they'd inherited, if that explained their troubles, if they were doomed to repeat them…the sins of the father. That was any man's worst fear, when he became his kids' burden, when they stopped being his.

  Gus drew a 10, Neely drew an Ace. “5 to 8.” Neely felt the whiskey in his fingers now, it took the edge off the pain. Hard to worry about his fingers when the rest of him might soon be following. Would they kill him before they buried him? He had to fight the urge to ask.

  He looked at the screens replaying his night of winning. Unreal to look at it now, replaying those emotions he felt during his showdown with the Belgian. When the—wait…that wasn't Cara by his side. That wasn't her caress. That was a figure he knew well, that was HER whispering in his ear, that was HER leathery old skin as she put her hand on his shoulder as the final card was dealt…

  “Still with us?” Gus asked. Neely couldn't swallow. He hadn't expected to see it. He hadn't expected certainty. Gus tapped the deck, eyes boring into him. “Back to the game. Pay or play.” Neely numbly drew an 8, Gus drew a 3. “5 to 9. You're scaring me,” Gus said, looking not a bit scared. The old woman had done it, SHE'd sabotaged everything. This had been a set-up from the moment it started. “Earth to Neely…”

  Neely looked back at the screen and he was no longer at the table. Had it really happened? Had it been her? He'd had dreams before, but not waking nightmares. Not hallucinations. He'd seen it on the screen, though. He could have asked Gus to reverse it, to prove she was REAL, she was THERE, but seeing it again was something he couldn't face, regardless of the consequences.

  Maybe it was the whiskey, but part of him didn't even want to make it anymore. He'd been living in dread of how the curse would play out, it'd be nice not to have to worry about it anymore. Have the decision taken out of his hands. One final car ride, like taking Pepper to the vet to have her put down last year. It was mercy, wasn't it? And how could he face Hope? Leaving for the weekend, turning off his phone, how could he explain doing that to a woman he loved, who'd given her life to him? It was damage that could never be fixed, trust wouldn't come back. In Neely's experience, it never really did, real trust was fragile. He drew a King, Gus drew a 10. “5 to 10. Five in a row, five to go. How you holding up?” Neely wished Gus would stop the commentary, it was intruding on what might be his final moments.

  Neely reached for the next one, knowing this was the one he was going to lose. He was suddenly sure of it. As sure as he'd been at winning. He'd had experience, he'd been on both sides. Truth was, he hated both. If he could have walked away…if he could have gone back to being a salary man, a family man, Little League and lawnmowers, a beer or two with the guys, some savings in the bank and college funds intact…

  “You gonna draw?” Gus held a 7 and looked at Neely. “7's lucky.”

  Neely tried to convince himself he still cared and took the cut. He didn't look, he let Gus see it first. Gus had no response. 44 years in casinos, it showed. Neely looked down. 10 of Clubs.

  “You contemplating a run?”

  “Maybe lightning strikes twice,” Neely said.

  “Maybe I'm Fat Elvis. 5 to 11.”

  Neely felt a roiling in his stomach. The big breakfast was coming back on him, he suppressed an urge to vomit. He had the feeling these men might just kill him for it.

  Neely drew a 4. Gus looked at him as he cut and held it. The bastard was enjoying it after all, Neely thought. Why not? He had nothing to lose. It was a 2. Gus smiled. “5 to 12.” Neely felt himself curse, which sent his disordered thoughts into an even deeper panic. Did he really want to die? Was he hoping he'd lose? Where the hell did that come from? This hadn't started with a goddamn death wish. Dammit.

  Gus drew a 10. Neely an Ace. “5 to 13. Unlucky number.” Neely suppressed an urge to leap over the desk and throttle him. HE DIDN'T NEED THE DAMNED COMMENTARY. He became conscious, as he realized the others in the room already had, that he'd crapped his pants. He'd pissed himself, he'd crapped his pants, and was about to toss his breakfast on the desk. Would that constitute a foul? Would it require a redo? 13, unlucky number after all. He felt the bile gathering at the back of his throat. He held it down, if only for what was left of his pride.

  Gus drew a 9. Neely drew a 10. “Skin of your teeth. 5 to 14.” Gus turned to one of the men at the table, “Nick, turn the fan on. Place is starting to smell ripe.” Neely reddened. His life on the line and he was embarrassed of his stink. Pride goeth, after all…Gus turned to him again, “Get you anything?”

  “Like what?”

  Gus laughed and the others followed. “I like your spirit, Neely. You're still funny.”

  “If I lose can you send some of that money to her?”

  “You're asking this now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, Neely. I already told you the terms. If you lose that means you cheated and that's not your money. Why you worrying now anyway? You just hit nine in a row, your luck's holding.”

  “I didn't cheat.”

  “So you say.”

  “That's their money.”

  “Turn the card over.”

  “It's their college.”

  “Should have thought about that.”

  “I did.”

  “When? When your mouth was full of Cara's sweet muff, you were thinking about tuition? Draw.”

  Neely felt a hand on his shoulder and it was one of the twins. This was it. He could be dead in less than thirty seconds. It could be all over. All the ways he imagined it coming, it was never in a piece-of- room with industrial carpeting. “You know what I think, Neely? I think your luck just left. I think it's played out and you know it. That's why all this all of a sudden. It's bad, you know. Bad mojo…not the way you want to meet your maker. Now draw.”

  Neely found himself suddenly unable to. This had been academic up to now. This had been so unreal he'd watched it like it was happening to someone else. Now it was hitting him, his life turning on a deck of two-dollar playing cards. He'd thought he hadn't cared and he had, more than anything. He didn't want to die, and he sure as hell didn't want to die on some meaningless wager. He felt Gus's impatience and managed to stammer out, “You first.” Gus smiled. He seemed to know what Neely was thinking—he'd just found his will to live again and it was messing with him to no end.

  Gus looked at his card and smiled. He was toying with Neely now and they both knew it. He turned it so Neely could see it. Jack of Hearts. Neely felt his heart hammering and he wondered why it took so long. Had he really just played this out with a steady pulse? Or had it been hammering the whole time? Was he fibrillating, going into arrest, or were those the drums from his dream again? He didn't need to flip the damn card, he was there already. How he managed to make jokes, to think he didn't care when he cared more than anything? What was wrong with him? Why would a guy throw his life away for this? Gambling was for losers. Guys with no options, guys who didn't have Hope.

  The liquor hit his roiling stomach and ate through his stomach lining. He held it together and glanced around him again, the bank of monitors curiously still now. All the footage of his night at the tables ended, there was nothing left to see. He wondered if that was a sign. Neely the gambler was no more, what was going to happen to Neely the man? He looked at the one-way mirror and for a moment, on the other side of it, there was that grin. Not the casino muscle, not Bugsy and his murderous progeny, just a Che
shire cat grin leering through the glass…the skeleton nodding his head like the world was just a joke between him and Neely. Neely retched and the mirror grew opaque again.

  “You gonna draw or you just want to give up now?” Gus said finally. It took all Neely had to reach for the deck and he couldn't stop his hand from shaking. He held it out for Gus to see, he couldn't bear to look at it himself. Gus, as usual, had no expression. “Seems appropriate, doesn't it?”

  Neely looked, saw the familiar face…strange how a drawn face can be like that, like a real thing. Like a friend or protector. Like maybe a—

  “Queen of Spades,” Gus said.

  His stomach seized, he clinched muscles and the vomit tore out of him. It hit the floor with such force, like water from a blocked hose, it splattered and the men all stood back. He was suddenly sure they were going to kill him anyway just for messing their shoes.

  Gus let him think it another few seconds before he finally spoke. “You understand, you're not coming back here. You won't be welcome. I'm talking ever. Nowhere in Vegas if you want to live, nowhere in Nevada if you're smart. Not another casino anywhere. You're flagged. Take up golf, you douchebag. You're done.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Neely asked, his voice hoarse from vomiting. “You believe me now?”

  “You haven't changed anything I believe,”Gus said, standing.

  “You've seen it, it's all around this place, it's what it was built on. Without luck who'd even care?”

  “I go to church every week, that's what I believe, Neely. You're on the wrong side of God, my friend, and I don't like whose table you're sitting at.” Gus motioned to the twins and one of them opened the door. Neely couldn't help it, he stared at the mirrored wall wondering who was on the other side. “Tim and Donnie will take you back to your room. You'll clean the shit off and get dressed. You'll pack whatever you got and go to the airport. They'll give you your winnings in a cashier's check. It won't be in the casino's name.”

  “You're letting me keep the money?”