Our method was this: after Ellen was done shuffling and palming off as many cards as she could, she would set the deck down on the tabletop and lay one of her hands at the table’s edge with the number of palmed cards indicated by the number of fingers pointing outward. Ideally, four. Three was less than optimal. Two would be deeply unfortunate: we’d almost certainly have to go through three entire rounds of Ellen palming cards. Not a total disaster, but the thought made us very uneasy.
It was Victor’s deal, and while he began to lay out everyone’s hole cards I forced my eyes away from Ellen while she shuffled the blue-backed deck. Eyes anyplace else. Create a small distraction, I told myself, and asked Danny where I could get a busted car window repaired.
He stared at me as if I’d just belched. “Try a windshield repair shop.”
Victor finished dealing the hole cards and set the deck down.
“But does it have to be the dealer?” I asked. “Or can it be any repair shop?”
“I don’t—it doesn’t matter.” Danny was playing with the chips in front of him, making his organized stacks more organized. “Just a place that does windshields.”
My hole cards were terrible and I folded quickly. While the others continued betting, I watched the TV while keeping Ellen in my periphery. Her shuffle seemed to go on awhile. That was probably only because I was bothering to notice. Victor burned a card, and just after he laid the flop on the table, Ellen set down the shuffled blue deck. I casually glanced over, hoping to see four fingers. Dreading seeing only two. She adjusted herself in her chair, most likely moving her thigh on top of the palmed cards, and leaned forward.
Her entire left hand lay flat on the table.
I looked away, my heart lurching.
Five. She had stolen five cards from the deck.
She was so much better than I was.
Now I had to keep myself calm for an agonizing six more hands of poker before the blue deck would make its way back to Ellen to shuffle and—I prayed—position all the cards for my Greek deal.
I tried to play good poker, but the blinds were increasing and my palms were sweaty and I lost a couple of hands. By 10:15, when Ellen claimed the blue deck and began to shuffle once more, I was down fifty thousand. Ellen was up close to a hundred thousand. Whether that was from honest play or opportunistic cheating I had no idea. I made a point not to watch her when she had the deal. Ian was down a little, and Jason was down more than a quarter of his chips. Danny was about even when he made an aggressive move and lost what to my mind was an astonishing amount, fifty-two thousand dollars, to Ian on a hand he had no business being in. I wouldn’t even call it a bluff. It was more as if Danny was foolishly trying to force his will onto the cards. When the hand was over and Danny had lost, he balled up his fists and I could see the tension in his forearms. He cracked his neck, stood up, and went to replenish his drink. Ian followed. When the game resumed, all the men were showing signs of becoming antsy—shifting in their seats, tapping on the table, checking the TV, where UCF was still beating Baylor. They were ready for something even if they didn’t know what.
Victor dealt the red deck, and we began to play the hand while Ellen shuffled the blue deck. When she was done she set the deck down. She rested her hand on the table and softly scratched the tabletop with her fingertips. Our last signal. All the cards were now in position. She had done it.
She had found the last of the cards and returned to the deck the five she had taken six hands earlier. Without anyone noticing, the blue deck had just grown again to fifty-two cards. The evidence—our greatest risk—had just melted away. It was an incredible moment, a milestone I celebrated by not reacting at all.
The deck now sat in front of Victor. Though I couldn’t see it, the bottom card was crimped, and the next cards were all in position. As soon as the current hand was over, Victor would cut the blue deck and I would execute the classic pass. Then I would deal the cards. My heart began to race faster, and I told myself to be calm, be still, but these were commands that my body would not obey. I had never been this nervous during a performance. I had never been this nervous.
I was banking on having a little longer to control my breathing and ready myself, but the hand went fast: Danny raised, Jason called, Danny raised some more on the flop, and everybody folded.
“Well, that was easy,” Danny said, collecting the small pile of chips, and it was over.
I rubbed my hands on the thighs of my jeans to dry them off. Victor reached out for the blue deck, lifted half of it, and placed the top half on the table beside the bottom half. Two equal piles. Then he began to gather up the cards from the previously played hand so he could shuffle the red deck.
It was my turn. Complete the cut, do the pass, deal the cards. Quickly. Now. Don’t think. Do not think. Do not.
It happened so fast.
One second I was completing the cut, and the next, it seemed, Victor was saying the words. He didn’t sound menacing or angry. He sounded almost weary, as if he didn’t want to be saying
