by M. D. Cooper
He whispered back, “So what is a man called? A betting king? That sounds weird.”
“Because it is weird. He’d just be called a betting host.”
“Seems unfair.”
She stepped around a puddle of spilled beverage just as someone arrived to clean it. “Take it up with the union.”
“There’s a union of betting-lounge owners?”
“No.”
Before he could reply, they arrived at Marky’s table. She pointed at a man and a woman, who looked disappointed, but got up and walked away without complaint.
Marky waved at the newly-available seats. “Sit. We’re playing eight-card rummy. Take a moment to key in your profile, and we’ll begin a new hand.”
Trey’s forehead scrunched. “Uh, I don’t have a profile.”
“Of course, you do.” Marky swept around the table, nudged in close to him, and practically draped herself over his shoulder to reach the keypad built into the tabletop. “I made you one after you left last time. There. Punch in whatever code you like, and then give it a bioscan to secure it. I started you out with two thousand credits on the house.”
Her hand grazed his shoulder as she moved away, apparently on accident, but Reece knew better. Marky had a thing for broad shoulders.
Reece smirked. Did Trey even know how to play eight-card rummy? It was one of her least favorite games, taking far too long to play, but there was no arguing with the house betting queen.
Besides, Reece would be leaving in the morning, for who knew how long and was glad to have a little fun before that happened.
A server arrived with a tray of drinks and Reece grabbed a whiskey as it went by. Trey grabbed two. When he glanced up and saw her noticing his beverage count, he grinned.
He wasn’t bad-looking, once she got past his too-perfect, synthetic eyes. Nonetheless, she’d noticed that the people sitting on either side of him had subtly shifted their seats away from him.
The fun went out of the game. Though she’d been up two cards, she quickly made several bad choices and lost all her cards, putting her out of the game.
“Guess it’s not my night for cards,” she said. “I’ll try the flippers.”
She was glad to leave the table and the uneasiness she felt in seeing Trey forging forward and being friendly, while only some people returned his goodwill.
She played her favorite flipper game, which featured images of fruit that had to be quickly lined up in increasingly intricate patterns. It did nothing to improve her mood. In fact, the longer she stayed at Marky’s the darker her mood got.
She needed to get out of there before she caused trouble.
Adopting an artificially light attitude, she circled back around to Marky’s table. “I’ve got no luck tonight. Think I’ll head out.”
As she turned to go, she asked Trey, as if it were an afterthought, “Want to hit the Ringtoad? I can introduce you to Kippy.”
His eyes went from her to his card readout to the counter above the table that kept note of how large the betting pot had grown.
“Yeah. Give me two minutes?”
“Sure.” What he was planning to do in two minutes she had no idea. Stage a hold-up? She’d been watching his game play, and he wasn’t good at it.
But somehow, he laid down a high pair, stole four cards, and then hit the “full-bounty” button, all in the span of a minute and a half.
The faces of the other players reflected how Reece felt. Bewildered. Uncertain that they’d really seen what they’d seen.
How had he done that?
From the expression on Marky’s face, Reece surmised the betting queen was wondering the same thing.
“Thank you much for the game, but it looks like my ride’s about to take off. Another night.” Trey logged out of his profile, gave the people at the table a jaunty wave, and strutted toward Reece.
“How did you do that?” she asked as they got into the waiting taxi.
“Are you kidding?” He shook his head. “I played a more complicated version of that game as a gradeschooler.”
“So you hustled us?”
He looked at her like she was stupid. “Uh, yeah. That’s what you do there, right?”
Then he blinked, and he looked worried. “Wait, it is, right? I didn’t just do something terrible, did I?”
His unexpected victory, and his sudden self-doubt made her bust out laughing.
“No, you did it just right,” she assured him, still laughing.
“Well, good then. Why did you burn your hand? You were my only real competition.”
Her amusement evaporated. “I didn’t like the company.”
She didn’t want to admit that she was irritated on his behalf.
He didn’t ask anything else, though, again showing unexpected tact. It made her more irritated with the people who had been disdainful of him.
He wasn’t her friend, but few things pissed her off more than the mistreatment of someone who didn’t deserve it. She did her best to ignore the small voice that was shouting ‘irony!’ in the back of her mind.
“I need a drink,” she muttered.
“You had a drink. And then another,” he pointed out.
She glared at him. “Fine. I need a drink, and maybe a good fight. You up for it?”
“The drink, sure. The fight, no, probably not so much. I’m pretty sure it would be bad for our working relationship if I were to bust your head in.”
“You’re a real pragmatist.” She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes.
“Pragmatist? That’s one of those people that only eat fish, right?”
She didn’t open her eyes. “Don’t play stupid. I know you’re not.”
“Oh, believe me, I can be plenty stupid. Put me in a room with a buffet and a free bar, and I promise you, I will make all kinds of stupid decisions.”
She wished she could close her ears, too. She had to settle for ignoring him.
* * * * *
Before Reece even sat in her favorite seat at the bar, Kippy took one look at her face and said, “Uh oh. A tall one?”
“The tallest,” she agreed.
Kippy’s gaze rested on Trey for a moment, but he tended to the most important business first. He placed the glass in front of her and only then asked Trey, “For you?”
He nodded at Reece’s glass. “Whatever she’s having.”
Kippy arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
Kippy smiled. “Not a thing.”
He mixed up another and set an identical glass in front of Trey. Reece tipped her glass at Kippy before taking a swig of her own drink.
Shrugging, Trey tossed some back.
His lips puckered. “That’s not what I expected. I thought you wanted a drink. This doesn’t even have alcohol in it.”
“Lemonade’s a drink. Kippy makes the best.”
Kippy leaned against the bar. “I hand-squeeze the lemons and everything. What do you think?”
“It’s sour. But kind of sweet, too. I guess it’s all right.”
Kippy turned his attention to Reece. “What has you looking like you got stuck paying someone else’s bill?”
“Figuratively speaking, I kind of did.” She met his gaze and a lifetime’s worth of knowing each other passed between them. They were good at reading each other.
“Figurative speaking.” Kippy shook his head regretfully. “That’s the worst kind, too.”
She smiled. Kippy always knew how to handle one of her dark moods. His particular brand of humor had busted her out of a funk many times.
Kippy looked to Trey. “Do you speak figurative?”
“Sure. Square. Triangle. Polygon.”
Kippy grinned. “He’s funny. Did you know he’s funny?”
“I know he thinks he is.” She looked from Kippy to Trey. Her dearest friend and her unwanted partner. Kippy was a good judge of character. If he liked Trey, it might give her reason to.
“Hmm.” Kippy surveyed the activity in the Ringtoad. “We’ve got some out-of-towners tonight. Are you up for some fun, honeybun?”
“If the price is right. I don’t work for free you know.”
He gave her a long-suffering look. “Oh, I know.”
Trey sipped his lemonade, looking curious, but remained silent.
Kippy wiped the already-clean counter, then flipped the towel so that it hung over his shoulder.
Her mood made a sharp upturn.
“Good evening, patrons of the Ringtoad!” Kippy bellowed over the low-level din. He caught the eyes of the servers working the floor and made a small gesture.
“I’m your host for the evening. Most of you already know me, but for the newcomers, you can call me Kip. I’m glad to say that my humble establishment is a favorite on Akon for a very good reason.” He paused a beat. “I serve the very best drinks with some damn tasty snacks, and we have a whole hell of a lot of fun here. Isn’t that right, loyal customers?”
Cheers went up as the servers deployed tray after tray of filled shot glasses.
“This cinnamon fire shot is on the house. For those of you who haven’t had them, they burn like fire on the way down, but you’ve never had such a tasty burn. Just don’t get any in your eye.”
Some knowing guffaws rang out.
“Please wait until everyone’s served, and we’ll all do this one together.”
One of Kippy’s newer employees brought a tray their way, setting shots down in front of her and Trey, and offering one to her boss.
Kippy held the shot high and counted down. “Three, two, one, fire away!” He tossed the shot back, along with every other person in the bar including the servers.
Reece loved cinnamon fire shots. The booze snaked down her throat and esophagus like lightning, and she felt like she could exhale flames like a dragon.
But it was delicious.
Trey looked pleasantly surprised.
“To a good night!” Kippy toasted the room with his empty shot glass, then banged it down on the bar. Dozens of people followed suit, creating a smattering of small thumps.
“Also,” he added, “just as fair warning, don’t disturb my friend at the bar here.” He gestured to Trey. “He’s had a terrible day and would probably crush you to a pulp.”
Chuckles and cheers rang out, along with a few calls of challenge.
“Uhm,” Trey said, leaning toward Kippy. “What?”
“Don’t worry,” Kippy said in a low voice. “This isn’t about you. I’m just using you as bait.”
“I don’t think I feel any better about that,” Trey admitted.
“You won’t have to fight anyone,” Kippy promised. “But ironically, the best way to get someone to want to fight is to tell them that there’s no way they possibly could win. It’s dumb, I know, but it works.”
Trey looked from Kippy to Reece. “This is a hustle, isn’t it?”
Reece grinned. “Absolutely. It’s fun. Play along.”
He shrugged. “All right.”
“Sit tight,” Kippy advised with a wink.
Trey didn’t look convinced, but he nodded gamely. Reece was pretty sure she heard him mutter something about “weird off-world shit.”
Somehow, that cheered her up greatly.
It didn’t take long for a chump to come calling. A tall guy approached and poked Trey on the shoulder. “So you think you’re tough, huh?”
Trey rolled his gaze to Reece, who nodded encouragingly.
“Yeah. Super tough. I’ll beat your ass. Or whatever.”
It seemed Trey wasn’t much of an actor. Pity.
No worries. Reece knew her lines by heart. She let out a hearty laugh. “This guy? Don’t even bother. I could kick his ass.” She gestured disparagingly at the newcomer and laughed, along with several others in the vicinity.
The tall guy scowled at her. “You wish. I’d break a skinny thing like you without even trying.”
Reece smiled broadly and turned away from the bar toward him. She let her hands fall to her sides, pushing her jacket back so he could see her weapons. “I do like a challenge. You’re on.”
His eyes fastened to the 47 Rikulf Specials at her thighs. Even an off-worlder would know that if she was carrying that kind of firepower, she was not someone to mess with.
“Oh, don’t worry about these,” she said, almost flirtatiously. “I’ll leave them at the bar.” She paused, frowning. “Unless you’re afraid to fight me barehanded. You can still back out.”
A low “Oooooooh” of delight surged through the room.
Reece loved it.
The guy hesitated. He was only just realizing the position he was in. He couldn’t outright refuse without losing face, but beating a harmless-looking woman wasn’t going to earn him any favors with this crowd, either.
Kippy stepped in to do his part. “I’m taking bets on whether this fellow can force the lady to admit defeat. Takers?”
Voices shouted out small amounts. The placing of bets always seemed to compel boneheads like this guy to action. Besides, mere fight-to-submission wouldn’t make the guy look like a monster. What did he have to lose?
She saw his avarice and cockiness slip into place.
“I’ll put a thousand on it,” Reece announced, removing her holsters and placing them on the bar between Trey and Kippy.
That would mean if he won, the guy would take away at least a thousand—less house fees—just for pinning a girl’s arm behind her back. She saw the stack of credits pile up in his eyes.
“A thousand, then,” the guy agreed.
More shouts. Reece doubted the guy realized that all the regulars were betting on her. They’d seen this hustle before and knew how it would end. It was always fun to play along, though.
She peeked at Trey as she moved away from the bar, facing off against the guy. Trey looked curious, but little more. Bah. She’d wanted him to be alarmed or entertained or caught up in the excitement.
Ah well. Never mind him. This was the kind of fun she and Kippy had been having for decades, and she wasn’t going to let Trey’s underwhelming reaction bring her down.
She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, ready to move in any direction. The guy circled her, looking her over.
“When do we start?” he asked.
“Now,” she answered, holding up her hands, palm-up, in a gesture of harmlessness.
He stepped in and reached for her, thinking it would be that easy. Fool.
She moved aside, giving him a shove as he stepped past her. He stumbled forward. Confused, he straightened and wheeled back around to face her.
He wore a look of surprise that morphed into a harder expression. He wasn’t about to look like a fool. He’d rather be thought a bastard than a wimp.
Funny how ego was so predictable.
Predictably, he came in hard this time, ready to use real force.
Good. That was what entertained people, not a half-hearted attempt countered by a quick defeat. A good hustle always entertained the crowd.
She ducked away from him several times, and then landed a quick jab to his face. Just a quick hit to please the onlookers.
It surprised him, though, then it made him angry. He’d begun to realize that she wasn’t just a typical barfly.
He took a swing at her, which she blocked, and then muttered a curse and tried a kick. Reece sidestepped that, but she could tell the man was getting desperate.
Time to end it, then. When he stepped in with a growl, a punch aimed at her temple, she moved under it, popped up, and grabbed the back of his neck, pressing on a sensitive nerve. In one smooth motion, she slammed his head down to the bar, exerting force on that nerve.
He made a noise, much higher-pitched than one would expect of someone his size. But then, that little spot on his neck was surely sending a lightning bolt of pain down his spine.
“Do you submit?” she asked.
He squeaked, and Reece eased up on his neck, lea
ning in close. “What was that?”
“I submit,” he confirmed.
Immediately, she let him go and took two big steps back. When he turned, she held both hands up in front of her in a gesture of peace.
His naked anger made his limbs stiff and his movements jerky, but he nodded to her in acknowledgement before stalking to the bar, paying his debt, then walking right out of the Ringtoad.
Reece returned to her seat. “I think you may have lost that customer,” she told Kippy.
“He’ll be back.” Kippy pushed her weapons to her and she began returning them to their rightful place.
“Think he’ll bet on me, or against me, then?” she asked, making sure her thigh holsters were cinched tight.
“On you, for sure.” Kippy grinned.
“How much do you two usually make on a little scuffle like that?” Trey asked.
“With all the bets accounted for, we both clear a couple thousand. Sometimes more, sometimes less.” Kippy shrugged. “Why? Are you angling for a cut?”
“Not this time,” Trey said. “Maybe next, if you make me your patsy again.”
Kippy grinned. “We could make it a more elaborate gig if we had a third person. Maybe you and Reece could pretend to have a scuffle to start things off.”
“Yeah, something to think about.” Trey’s tone and expression belied his words.
Some people just didn’t appreciate a good shell game.
She took a deep drink of her lemonade, bringing the waterline down to mid-glass. Kippy moved away to make some blended drink orders.
Though she’d arrived feeling disgruntled, dented, and displeased with the world in general, Reece now felt perfectly at her ease. This was the world as she knew and liked it. Working exactly as she expected it to.
Trey spoke up after a moment. “I take it you and your boyfriend have been together a long time. I’d think you were an old married couple, except your file noted you as single.”
For a second, she was tempted to let him think she and Kippy were a couple. But that would probably end up backfiring on her in some way, and end up not being worth the amusement.
“Kippy’s like a brother. We’ve never been a couple.”
Trey looked surprised. “I see.”
“But yes. We’ve been each other’s right hand for a very long time. We’ve run all kinds of scams and hijinks together over the years.” She looked at Kippy, working the blender at the other end of the bar, feeling fond.