Five Miles off Darling Harbor
Blackjack was not just a game of cards.
It was a con. Beautiful, almost pure in its technique. You couldn’t do much with blackjack that life couldn’t do back to you and that made the game special. The cards all melted into a finite sum – the right sum – if you knew the way to count them. If you understood math and were good at sleight of hand.
Blackjack was a combination of everything sexy about mathematics and cards all rolled into a twenty-one point game where the house got beat as much as it won.
There were five players on this blackjack table. The dealer before Sophia had told her all about them, their little tells.
The player on the extreme right of the small, curved table drank only gin and tonics and breathed through his left nostril, every time he was about to hit twenty-one. He owned an electric car company that was supposed to declare an IPO after he unveiled his latest invention this week at Consumer Convention 2019 - the world’s most boring title for one of the world’s most exciting tech events, scheduled to take place over the next two weeks.
The one next to him was tall but pretended to hunch. It was how he’d made innocent entrepreneurs sign equities over to him while he poured sums into their company and, when they didn’t quite work out, sold the company piecemeal, like a shark. The shark’s tell was that he chewed his lip before asking for a fresh card, usually on an unfavorable hand.
Sophia smoothened the breast pocket of her silk Chinese jacket and walked smoothly, purposefully down to the table assigned to her. A couple of the men playing at other tables looked up and glanced in covert admiration.
She put it down to her wild hair, brown curls that refused to be tamed in Australia’s unpredictable weather.
She didn’t know it had to do with the way she strode in four-inch, pointy heels, a pocket Venus with a sweet smile and hair that attracted more attention than she was comfortable with.
At last, she reached the table where she was dealer for this shift.
Sophia pasted a professional, non-committal smile on her face.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she said in a low, smooth voice that matched her subtly made up look. She was pretty but unobtrusive, professional but courteous. Everything that belonged on a luxury liner holding an important event for one of the world’s biggest conferences.
There was a small murmur of assent around her. She didn’t bother with eye contact, just expertly removed a fresh deck of cards and shuffled them before placing the required number on the table.
“Anybody needs anything before we begin? Cocktails?”
The drinks orders were called up. Gin and tonic, a martini, and three champagnes – Krug. When the waiter came with the tray in mere instants, she waited patiently, without making small talk while they were served.
Then, attention switched to the game.
Sophia burned the house card and played out the hand for each of them. Her nails were tipped in coral paint. The color wasn’t loud but understated and sexy. It was what her boss demanded of all his female employees.
The gin and tonic drinker stuck for the second card, the investor hunched and bowed out, sipping on his champagne with narrowed eyes. The martini-drinking lady who was chief technology officer, CTO for short, at a powerful mobile manufacturer, continued with a second card.
So too did the other two gentlemen – one from Lithuania, here to promote e-governance and working from his country and the other a Silicon Valley wannabe.
The second card proved too much for the two men, which left only the lady and gin and tonic (G&T) in the running.
The two of them leaned back, sipped their drinks and generally pretended as if they weren’t gambling for thousands of dollars. Fifty five thousand converted to Australian dollars and payable at exit, if one wanted to be exact.
There was no crowd at this table. Just serious people playing serious blackjack.
The low-key jazz trio provided adequate background noise to the proceedings. The Lotus Dragon bobbed gently on its moorings.
Sophia looked enquiringly at G&T.
He breathed through his left nostril. “Hit me,” he said.
She did. It was a two. Combined with his jack of clubs and seven of hearts. It was less than twenty one.
The CTO sat up straighter, elbows squarely plated on the felt table. Her tell was subtle. Pinched forehead and a pulse ticking on her neck.
Sophia supposed that was how she was in business dealings too. Unapproachable and absolute.
“Hit me,” the CTO said and took a sip of the martini.
Sophia slid the card out of the slot. It was the ace of clubs. She was at twenty five, and out.
The table became busier. Now, it was down to the house and G&T. If the house card exceeded more than twenty one, G&T would be several thousand dollars flush.
Sophia tapped the two existing house cards – a seven and an eight of hearts, totaling fifteen. She went to the slot, and pressed the appropriate button. The card slid out. She smoothly dragged it to the center of the table in a matter of seconds but executed to perfection.
She turned the card over, so it settled between the seven and the eight.
It was a four of spades. The house had hit twenty one.
G&T’s shoulders slumped.
“House wins,” she murmured, as she raked in the pile of chips they’d all placed as bets – fifty five thousand dollars in varying denominations. Sophia swept the cards into her fold.
“Goddammit,” G&T snarled.
“Sorry, sir.” She gave him a bland smile – but one calculated to soothe. “Sometimes, luck doesn’t hold. Would you like to play another hand, sir?”
She put some effort into anglicizing her accent. The pit boss liked it when she contrasted her Indian looks with a fancy accent. And if it earned her a hefty tip at the end of the night, why not?
G&T looked at her berry plump lips.
Sophia held his gaze back effortlessly. She knew she looked small, exotic and female. Had used that fact ruthlessly in order to work on gaming tables when she had little to no experience. The money at such tables combined with tips was insane. It made life on cruise liners bearable.
She could handle this man’s aggression.
“Sir?” she prodded again, tapping on the discarded card pile.
A slight breeze stirred the air around them. The Lotus Dragon swayed gently and the ocean waves swished around them in invisible concert.
Sophia breathed the sea air scented with designer perfumes and entitlement. She resisted the urge to throw up.
The electric car company owner who only drank gin and tonics considered the pile of cards.
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?” He drained his drink and ordered a fresh one, while pushing the required chips in to place his bet, signaling acceptance.
Sophia smiled. Yeah, she could handle this man all night long. The pit boss, Juggy Singh, was going to be so happy he’d let her crew the table.
~~~~~~
Sophia ran the table for ninety minutes more. Calm, competent and professional to the tips of her coral nails. The initial group of five drifted out after two more games. They tipped her a gold chip worth about a thousand dollars Australian, in total. Not a bad start to her shift.
A new five-person group sat at Sophia’s table. The average age group of the new gang was twenty-five. They giggled and downed tequila shots each time cards were shown.
The house went a little richer with this motley group. They left after two games and no tips.
Finally, two very serious and senior gamblers took their place. Sophia knew they were serious and senior because they ordered iced tea and they didn’t look at the cards till the last possible minute. They played the dealer, her, as much as they played the cards.
She loved her job when smart people showed up to play. It was so interesting.
The jazz trio had given way to a string quartet and a popular chartbuster’s Vitamin Water version was
drifting in their direction. Her hand tapped on the edge of the table. She pushed a curl sticking to the side of her cheek behind her ear.
Sophia began to tell the players a story as she shuffled the cards for dealing a new game. Her own version of a manufactured tell. “My father played just like you, sir,” she began quietly.
The one on the right, a man named Stetson, had just won seventy five thousand on the previous round. Stetson regarded the pretty blackjack dealer.
“Is that where you learned to play?” he asked. “From your father?”
She shook her head and more of her hair followed the movement. In a deft and artless move, Sophia twisted her hair into a topknot and secured it with a clip at the top of her head. Tendrils escaped the style to fall and frame her face.
The man sitting next to Stetson sat up straighter. He was in his early forties, fit and quietly good-looking. He hadn’t introduced himself when they started playing.
Sophia tried to place him in her mental file of all the ConCon attendees. Hadn’t been able to.
“No, sir,” Sophia said. “I used to watch him play and wonder if he was ever afraid of losing large sums of money on one bet.”
Stetson grinned. “Did you ask him that?”
She smiled, a small flash of teeth. One of them had an overbite. It was surprisingly adorable. “No, I’m afraid not. He was big and important and he never had time for me, his little girl.”
“That is sad,” the other player said quietly. “Parents should always have time for their children. Negligence is cruel.”
Sophia shook her head again. “You misunderstand me, sir. He just considered his card games sacred time. I had a perfectly pleasant childhood. We even went to Disneyland for family vacations.”
Stetson and the quiet man chuckled, disarmed despite themselves.
Sophia slid the fresh deck and cut the house card. “On my fifteenth birthday, he gave me a pack of cards, monogrammed with my initials SRK and taught me the rudimentary basics of blackjack.”
She pushed the first cards in their direction. The players didn’t glance at them at all. They were caught up in her story.
Just as she intended.
“I lost pretty spectacularly, of course. And I had to do the dishes for a month during summer vacation. It was horrifying. Bets please, gentlemen.”
The cards were looked at. Bets were placed. Odds were calculated.
Sophia figured that Stetson was going to lose by four points, while the unnamed quantity could actually make it. If he held steady.
Her job was to make him lose focus and concentration so he didn’t. A good dealer did more than just deal cards. They played the player into losing.
“What happened then, sweetheart?” Stetson took a sip of his Chinese beer and winked at her. “Did you learn to play cards to take sweet revenge on your dear daddy?”
She shook her head again. Her smile was tinged with the slightest sadness. “I love my father. We were very…close. I’d never do anything to hurt him. But…” She leaned closer as if letting them in on a secret. The men leaned in, despite themselves.
Sophia had learned to play to the gallery when she started working the tables on cruise liners.
“After my month was up, daddy gave me another gift. Part two of my continuing education, he said. Can you guess what it was gentlemen?”
She expertly slid the next round of cards while they guessed answers.
“Blackjack for Dummies?” Stetson said.
“A how to book on card play?” The quiet player smiled at his own silly guess.
“A professional course?” Stetson asked excited.
She shook her head on all answers. “It was a DVD of 21, the movie? Easy money for Harvard applicants. Seemed like a worthy career goal.”
The players burst out laughing and she joined them. A low, throaty female laugh that echoed in their own little bubble and attracted the attention of a few other people. A sizeable crowd gathered as the next hand was played.
Sophia was all polish and professional courtesy as she placed bets, placed the cards appropriately and played out the game. There were calls and murmurs and it was imperative for everyone to play with concentration.
In the end, the house broke even and the quiet man won.
Stetson pressed a two K chip in her hand and squeezed her wrist. “So you can buy yourself that DVD again,” he whispered as he left the table.
“Thank you, sir!” Sophia’s heart squeezed when she converted the chip amount, one AUD was equal to forty Indian rupees. This was a sizeable tip!
The unnamed quantity looked speculatively at her and said, “Good luck. You’re a great dealer. You belong in Vegas. Come see me if you want to work at the big boy tables.”
He placed his card on the felt table and then he was gone too.
Sophia picked up the card. Harrison Grant, Greenhound Capital. The name pricked at her head but didn’t immediately click. It was time for her break, so she pocketed the card, the healthy tips she’d made and went to the back of the liner for some alone time.
Games Night was an all-night affair, so she had one more shift before she could call it a night.
Chapter Two
Sophia ate a little of the zucchini salad that her friend Tess bagged for her, craving andaa curry and rice all the time. She downed an entire bottle of water and used the restroom to freshen herself up. Playing to the table was hard work but she enjoyed it.
She stared at herself in the little mirror off the galley bathroom.
Her hair was a disaster, so she twisted it into a proper roll and tucked all the curls away behind her ear. It didn’t work, so she let it hang around her face.
The new foundation she was using covered the worst of her dark circles and added extra evenness to her golden-brown skin – a miracle - because none of the cosmetics companies really catered to the desi girl traveling abroad. And it was super affordable, considering the brand name. She used a bit of blush and added more color to her cheek.
Then she walked out and went to the furthest railing on the opposite side of the galley. There was no one here. She’d checked for it.
Sophia swapped the international SIM for a cheaper international calling card, pressed speed dial two.
The call was picked up on the second ring. “Nakul, here.”
“Hey, Nakul,” she said.
The breeze stirred a bit and it was four am so dawn was making its presence felt. The sky was a deep purple-pink in color. It was beautiful and poignant, because there was nothing to be seen from this side except endless, expansive sea.
She looked down at the inky black water. Could see nothing but endless, cold nothing.
“Hey, Meethi.” Meethi was the nickname she’d been stuck with since childhood, because she’d loved Toblerone so much.
“How are things, dada?” Nakul would always be her dada, her big brother.
Nakul didn’t answer. “Are you on break?”
She nodded. “I am. I thought I’d call in and check…check on things.”
“It’s not a good time, Meethi. The doctor was just here. Apparently they are going to monitor for another stroke. His brain function is decreasing.”
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Is he alright?”
Nakul bit off a harsh curse. “He’s had a stroke and is partially paralyzed on his left side. He is not alright and you know it. You know how lucky you are you get to run off to a luxury cruise while you pretend to work?”
Sophia closed her eyes and took a bracing breath. It didn’t help. Worry, guilt and grief was an open laceration on her heart. She wanted to tell him about her cramped quarters or the fact that most days she only subsisted on one meal a day trying to save enough money to send back home. That she’d do almost anything for a hefty tip.
But she didn’t.
Dada had his own burdens to bear.
“Do you need more money or are we covered for now?”
“I’m not an incompetent businessman, Sophia. Unlike
our sainted father who trusted that asshole Shrinivasan and left me to clean up his goddamn mess.”
Sophia nearly groaned out loud. “Let’s not talk about that asshole right now, dada. I don’t need the extra hassle.”
“Has he shown his face yet on the yacht?”
“It’s not a yacht,” Sophia automatically corrected him. “It’s a luxury cruise liner.”
“Whatever. The asshole is supposed to be there. He is rumored to be the next big thing once again because of his revolutionary software, while I am figuring out how to pull dad’s damned company out of this fucking black hole.”
Sophia counseled patience to herself. “You still haven’t answered my question, Nakul.” She almost never called him by his given name, so it was fucking serious. “Do you need money right now or not?”
Nakul muttered something under his breath but answered, “No, we don’t need any money right now. But you’re going to wire your share at the end of the month, right?”
“I have never let you down, have I? The money will be there.” She snapped back. “I quit college and worked cruise liners so you could save dad’s damned company. I poured whatever money I made back into his medical care. I am pulling my weight too and I am just --”
“I’m sorry,” Nakul cut in, miserably. “I did not mean it like that. And I know how amazing you are, Meethi. I am sorry for being such a dick.”
Sophia was horrified to discover she was close to tears. She shook her head. This wouldn’t do. Not at all. She had to be a professional. Ice-cold. She had to do her job well. Lives depended on it.
She couldn’t afford to fall to pieces.
“It’s okay.” With effort her voice didn’t break. “I know you’re under an insane amount of stress. I’ll send extra this month. I made some decent tips.”
Nakul laughed. “No, keep it. Buy some of those shoes you love so much. Jimmy whatever. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Is he…is he okay?” Sophia asked softly.
“He actually is. I don’t know why the doctor seems to think his brain function is deteriorating. This situation is crazy.”
“When was it not?” She felt a buzz on the phone. It was her alarm. Break was over. “Okay, I have to go back. I’ll figure out what needs to be done. You let me know if you need anything. I’ll try calling you when I can.”
Against All Odds Page 2
