“Yep, there’s a poker game going on tonight. There’s a real babe playing too. Sure wouldn’t mind going home with her,” Sober Guy said. “Maybe she’ll need consoling after the inside man wins all of her money. I hear tonight was a twenty-thousand buy-in.”
“Shit, that’s too rich for my blood. Five grand sure, but twenty? No way,” Ezio grimaced.
“Yeah. What’s more, they’re all stuck there until it’s over.”
“Huh? How in the hell does that work?”
Tie-Guy squinted at Ezio. “I don’t know, you’re kind of built, they might not want to take you on for the game. You might give their muscle a run for their money.”
“What are you talking about?” the third guy said with a bit of a slur. “They’re all carrying. You shouldn’t have given Jake at the door as much shit as you did. He could have killed us all.”
Tie-Guy’s eyes got wide. “You think they have guns?”
“With all that money floating around?” Sober Guy queried. “You can bet your ass. All those mirrors on the walls aren’t for decoration, either. They have people watching us all the time. Seriously, Jimmy, how naïve are you?”
“I guess I’m pretty naïve.”
“So does the plant win every time?” Ezio asked.
“I’ve only seen him lose once,” the sober guy said. “Their boss pretended to be okay with it, but when the player said they were going to call for a cab to go home, instead of being driven home, the boss said he’d call for the cab. I gotta tell you, I don’t think a cab was called.”
“What do you mean, driven home?” Ezio asked.
“I met one of them in the john, he told me that it’s all hush-hush. The guys drive them from their houses, and take their cell phones from them, then drive them here. Totally deep-state-paranoid.”
“So, the winner didn’t want to be driven home? Wanted a cab,” Ezio confirmed.
“Yep. But like I said, I don’t think a cab was ever called. Just a hunch.”
“You’re not saying something bad happened to the winner, are you?” Ezio pretended to be naïve too, in order to keep them talking.
“I’m really not sure, it’s just a gut thing,” the sober guy said, his voice low. “Like I said, they never have the same players ever again. So, who knows? Just stay away from poker. Look, I have to get back to the little woman. She thinks I’m over at Jimmy’s house watching football.”
“Good luck. Do you think you can hook me up with Reggie?”
“I’m sorry man, can’t do it. You’ve got to be a friend. Good luck trying to get in. Anyway, if poker is your game, you should stick with Goldy’s.” He stuck out his hand and Ezio shook it.
He shook the other two men’s hands as well as he tried to swallow down his worry. This was not good. Not good at all.
10
Her dress was hot. Really hot. Sweat was dripping down her back; thank God it was lined. Carl kept looking between her and Phil as he sat back down at his stool.
You fooled him, so calm down Samantha.
She took a deep breath and prayed that her double coating of deodorant would work. After everyone was settled back in their seats and the waitress had all brought them another round of drinks, the game-runner stepped forward and patted Jerry’s shoulder.
“Welcome back from the break. We have six players remaining in the tournament with Mr. Meade and Miss Brooks in the lead. We’re going to increase the blinds to five-hundred and one-thousand. It’s time to step things up, people, if you want a shot at winning. Good luck, players, let’s shuffle up and deal.”
The man who had been consistently losing and had the shortest stack pushed away from the table and stood up. “This isn’t fair, I signed up for a cash game. I should have been allowed to leave an hour ago. This is crooked as hell. I’m calling the police!”
“About an illegal game that you agreed to play? I don’t think so,” the small man said with a shark’s smile. “Now sit down.”
“I’m not going to sit down,” he yelled. “I want my fucking money.”
Carl got up off his stool and another man materialized beside him. It was Murray. Carl unbuttoned his suitcoat again so that his big black gun could be clearly seen.
Dang, my mace isn’t going to work against that.
“Sit down,” Carl snarled.
The man went pale and he sat down.
“Does anyone else have any questions about the rules?” the small man asked.
If I win, I’m not going to be allowed to leave with my money. But if I lose, then everything I’ve done tonight was for nothing.
He looked around the table.
Everybody, including Sam, shook their heads.
“Good. Shuffle up and deal, Jerry.”
Samantha felt sweat beading at her hairline. She had to think of something.
Granddad, help me! You’re the one who taught me poker, help me figure a way to help Phil’s wife and get out of this alive.
Jerry dealt out the hand and she looked down at her cards—an eight of hearts and a four of clubs. Sam hated to fold without seeing the flop, but she also hated throwing away five-hundred chips. She called the big blind and watched as the next player raised two-thousand more.
Darn.
Now she was stuck calling another two-thousand for the dubious pleasure of seeing the flop when she had a crap hand. The one thing she did know was that dilly-dallying over a decision would be a dead giveaway to the other players that her cards were bad, so she made her
