Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
She takes one of the tables toward the end where the dealer just pulled out a new sleeve of fresh decks. Walter is the one dealing the cards. He’s older and might seem easy to pull one over on, but he’s one of my most experienced and longest-standing dealers. She might not be good at reading people, but I am. I set the bait, and she took it. Hook, line, and sinker.
Now, she’s all mine.
4
ELSA (ACE)
“Hi,” I say to the dealer as I slip into the seat to the far right. I push my bills across the table to get some chips. A couple sits on the other side of the table.
It’s early, so the casino isn’t crazy busy yet. I prefer a packed casino. People can get lost in the shuffle. The drunker people become, the louder they are with their cheers, pulling attention to them instead of me. But I have to admit that I get a different type of thrill from this environment. It makes it harder to pull off what I do and more rewarding in a weird way.
“Evening,” the older man says. His name tag reads Walter. He starts counting my bills. “I’m going to need an ID.”
“Evening.” I give him a smile while handing it over. He gives it a quick glance before handing it back. I slip it into my purse.
The eyes of the man with the woman, who I’m guessing to be in her late twenties, drop to my cleavage. Men are the worst. The woman with him is beautiful, but that’s not enough for him.
I hate wearing these dresses, but a distraction is a distraction. Even for the people at the table with you. They can often be worse than security, getting pissy with how you’re playing your cards. I’ve learned that looking a certain way helps in those matters.
Typically, the tables run four men to one female. They don’t give me a hard time if I’m all dolled up and pretend to be ditsy. I’ve even asked for their help at times. Especially when I know I’ve got a shit hand and it doesn’t matter what I do with it.
“How would you like them?”
“Green and black please.” He pulls my chips out.
“Drink?” a cocktail server asks.
“Vodka cranberry,” I tell her, having no real intention of drinking. I need to keep a clear mind at all times in order to pull this off. One little slip-up is all it would take, and I’d be in a crap load of trouble.
“Are we ready?” the dealer asks.
I push my chips out.
Counting cards isn’t hard. The strategy is laid out with numbers to add and subtract for each card that hits the table. What is hard is for people to keep up. You can know how to do it, but it has to be mastered to do it without even thinking, the numbers playing on their own in your mind without so much of a real thought.
That part comes easily and is pretty much on autopilot for me. It’s all the other factors that I have to be aware of. I glance to my left as someone slides into the chair next to me. The darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life lock with mine. I’m entranced by them.
Goosebumps break out along my skin. My reaction to this man is out of the ordinary for me. It’s also something I can’t afford to be having at the moment. I force myself to look away from his handsome face. I can still feel his eyes on me.
He pulls his money out, getting some chips. All black. It’s not shocking. I grew up around money. I know what a five-thousand-dollar suit looks like. I also know his Rolex could buy a car, maybe two. Why is he at this table? He should be in the high roller’s room.
The dealer counts out his chips, placing them in front of him. Everyone places a bet.
“Drink.” The cocktail server hands me my drink.
“Thanks.” I hand her a chip. She winks at me before asking the man next to me if he wants a drink. I peek over at him while taking a few sips of my drink, wanting to see how he engages with the server, but he doesn’t. He only shakes his head no.
“Hit?” the dealer asks, pulling my attention back to the table. What the hell? Pay attention to the cards, I remind myself, and not the hot-ass man next to you. He’s got nineteen. I flick my eyes across the table, taking in everyone’s cards before I announce my move.
“Hit me.” He flips over a card, giving me a twenty. The rest of the table plays out, the dealer busting.
“Not bad,” the man next to me says, placing another bet and maxing out the limit of five grand like it’s nothing. I notice the small, faded scars across his knuckles.