Shine Not Burn(14)

The old man shook his head. “Better not. Your boyfriend will lose his spot at the table and this dealer’s treating him right. He’ll be taking a break in the next twenty minutes or so and then your boyfriend’ll miss out on his run for good.”

I gritted my teeth together and took a deep breath in through my nose, trying to ignore the spinning of the room. Too many cocktails. So little time. “Okay, fine. I can be bold. I can be dangerous.” I shook my head at the dealer, trying to keep my game face on. “No insurance. But thank you for offering. That was very nice.”

The dealer gave me a small smile. “Rules of the house. I don’t make ‘em, I just play by ‘em.” He was kinda cute.

“Oh.” My face went red. Total rookie move. I slouched a little in my seat.

A cocktail waitress came up and stopped next to my chair. “Cocktail?”

“Oh, I don’t have any money right now,” I said. I’d left my wallet and credit card in Candice’s purse.

“They’re on the house as long as you’re playing.” She gave me a bored look.

“Well, okay then. If they’re free bring one for me and my friend.” I winked at the man next to me and he nodded back. “Gin and tonic for me and …”

“Make it two,” said my neighbor.

The dealer gave everyone else a second card. He lifted up the corners of own cards and then put them down, looking at the man farthest to my right expectantly.

The old man let out a hiss of air.

“What? What just happened?” I asked, looking at the dealer and then the old man again.

“Dealer doesn’t have a ten or higher on that second card. Your bet is safe for now.”

I watched the people around the table. They were all peeking at their second card and frowning.

I did the same, trying to mimic their technique of only bending up the very corner of the cards. Next to my ace sat another ace. My heart began pounding wildly. What does this mean? Twenty-two? That can’t be good. Twelve? That sounds too low.

“Help,” I whispered, wishing the gods of poker were on my shoulders in miniature, whispering in my ear and telling me what to do.

“What you got?” asked the old man, sounding amused as he leaned towards me a little.

I lifted up my cards so he could see them. “I think it’s bad news,” I said, dreading his response. I’d just blown two hundred bucks of someone else’s money. I had to find an ATM machine, stat, so I could replace it before he found out. I had to find Candice and get my stuff! I looked around, but she and Kelly were nowhere in sight.

He let out a long whistle. “You need to split.”

I jumped off the chair and looked around. “Okay,” I said, wringing my hands, trying to figure out where to go and whether I should take all the chips with me or just abandon them to my shame.

He put his hand on my arm. “What are you doing? Take your seat.”

I looked at him confused. “But you told me to take off.”

He laughed, his round belly jiggling under his shirt. “No, missy, I told you to split, not take off. Split your cards into two separate hands and play them separately.”

“What?” I slowly climbed back up onto the stool, not any less confused but at least reasonably sure I wasn’t supposed to run off for the toilets or my room.

“You can choose to turn one hand into two. You have to double your bet, but in your case, it might be worth it.”

I swallowed hard. “You mean, bet four hundred dollars instead of two hundred?” Dollars. Of this stranger’s money. Jesus, what the hell am I doing?

“Yep.” He looked at his own cards again. “You need to decide what you’re going to do before you miss your turn.” The old man nodded at the dealer.

I looked up to find the dealer staring at me expectantly.

“Um … I … uh … need to split.” My face was on fire. I needed a drink bad. Running to the bathrooms was sounding like a really good idea right now.

The dealer nodded. “Two hundred dollars.”

I searched through my chips, turning them over and reading their faces. Once I realized they were color-coded, I found two more like the ones I already had out and put them on the table. The dealer reached over and split my two cards apart, putting two chips by each single card. He sent out another round of cards, and now I had four cards in front of me. I noticed the man to my right tickled the top of the table with his index finger and the dealer threw him a card. Then the man floated his hands above his cards and shook his head.

The dealer was back to staring at me.

I stared back, now getting a little irritated at him. “What?”

“Do you want me to hit you?” he asked.

I looked at him aghast, wondering what rule I’d broken so badly I needed to be physically abused over it. “No, I don’t want you to hit me. Do you want me to hit you?” I stood up, ready to defend myself. This was the worst customer service I’d ever experienced in my entire life. He was probably pissed off that I had half the aces.

The old man put his hand on my arm. “He wants to know if you want another card. That’s a hit.”

All the fight club went out of me in a big wave, leaving behind humiliation in its wake. This was worse than losing toilet paper boobs in a wet t-shirt contest. I sat back on my stool, pulling my dress down my thighs a little to keep from exposing my panties. “Oh. Sorry about that. I apologize for threatening you. Yes, please, I’d like a card for both of them.”