Shootout in the Okey-Doke Casino
A Poker Boy Story
Dean Wesley Smith
Shootout in the Okey-Doke Casino
Copyright © 2012 by Dean Wesley Smith
Published by WMG Publishing
Cover Design copyright © 2012 WMG Publishing
Cover art copyright Konradbak/Dreamstime
Smashwords Edition
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Shootout in the Okey-Doke Casino
One
In my few, short years working as a superhero for the gambling gods, no one had ever bothered to mention to me that fairies and elves and trolls and all those sorts of things actually existed.
Of course, until I became Poker Boy, I had no idea that just about everything that existed had gods that ruled over that area of the world. Gambling gods, gods of food, gods of hospitality, gods of mathematics, and so on. So I suppose it wasn’t much of a jump to realize fairies were real as well. I had just honestly never thought about it.
It was a Monday night, just after nine, and I was playing in a small, two-hundred-dollar buy-in tournament at my local Spirit Winds Casino in the mountains in Oregon. The eleven-table poker room had the three remaining tournament tables tucked off in one corner, with two real-money tables on the other side of the room. I planned on moving to one of the regular tables if I got knocked out of the tournament, and playing until eleven when my girlfriend got off work.
I owned an old double-wide about a half-mile away from the casino, tucked in the back of an old trailer park. I liked playing in the Spirit Winds’ small poker room when I wasn’t out chasing bad guys or saving dogs – even though I am a superhero in the gambling universe, I seemed to save a lot of dogs. No one could really explain it, beyond it just happened.
I was about to fold a ten-nine-suited to a raise in front of me when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I glanced around to see Stan, the God of Poker, standing behind me in black slacks, white shirt, and dark sports jacket. No one seemed to notice him.
Actually, Stan was one of the most unnoticeable people I had ever met. His square-jawed face seldom showed emotion and he could disappear completely from just about any crowd without using any superpower at all.
I had on my usual superhero costume of black leather coat, black Fedora-like hat, and jeans. The coat and hat helped focus my powers when I was near or in a casino.
Stan leaned in and said, “Get your team together. Half-hour at The Diner.”
Then he turned and headed out the door before I could even ask a question. At the exact spot where there was a three-foot dead spot in camera feeds to security, he vanished.
No doubt something bad was happening. When Stan came in person to Oregon to get me, things were urgent.
I mucked my hand and pushed back from the table, pretending to get a call on my cell phone, the very same phone I never turned on and never used. Then I turned to the dealer after pretending to listen for a moment to a call. “Blind me off. Got to run.”
The dealer nodded and a couple of the players actually looked relieved I was leaving.
I waited until I was outside the casino in a blind camera spot before I jumped to another blind camera spot in front of the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino front desk on the Strip in Vegas.
I loved that I knew how to teleport. Teleporting was, at the moment, my favorite superpower. I had just learned how to do it a month or so ago, and it was startling how often it came in handy. Especially when I lived in Oregon and often had to work or rescue people in Las Vegas.
My girlfriend, Patty Ledgerwood, aka Front Desk Girl, is a superhero working under the gods of hospitality. She was standing behind the counter smiling at an overweight woman customer when I arrived in front of the counter beside the customer. I instantly slid Patty and myself out of time, leaving the women who had been trying to register standing with an open mouth full of yellow teeth and eyes half-closed in a blink.
Being able to slip out of time and freeze everything around me was my second-favorite superpower. I had learned how to do that back during the fight with the Slots of Saturn. It never got old.
The noise of the large lobby and the casino down the hall instantly stopped, as did everyone in the lobby except Patty and me.
“Knocked out of the tournament already?” Patty asked, smiling and reaching across the wide counter to take my hand and give it an affectionate squeeze.
Her big brown eyes and wonderful smile could melt an iceberg, and every time she turned that smile and that wonderful gaze on me, I melted right along with the berg. She had her long brown hair pulled back and had on the standard white blouse and black slacks of the MGM front desk, where she worked.
“Stan came and got me,” I said. “We have some sort of mission. He didn’t say what kind, but it sounded urgent.”
She nodded, reached into her pocket, and slid me her cell phone, knowing mine was only a prop. “It will take me a minute to finish with this customer,” she said, indicating the open-mouthed woman who really, really needed a dentist. “Then I’ll be ready to go. Give Screamer a call.”
“Is The Smoke in town?”
“No,” she said. “Off working a case of bear-killings in Alaska.”
I slipped us back into real time as I turned and walked away from the counter. The noise of all the people and tourists talking at the same time as I crossed the stone and high-ceilinged room rammed into me again.
I dialed Screamer’s number and then stood against a stone pillar to stay out of the traffic lane.
“So what’s up?” Screamer asked.
“Stan called us together,” I said. “You free in a half hour?”
“I’m out at the airport,” he said. “Got about fifteen minutes to finish the case here with airport security.”
“Call when you are done and I’ll jump you to The Diner.”
“Got it,” he said and hung up.
Screamer worked as a superhero for the gods of law enforcement. His main power was being able to crawl inside a person’s head, and transfer thoughts from one person to another. It came in very handy in more ways than can be imagined.
He got his nickname when he got a serial killer to scream for mercy by letting him experience what he had put others through. Screamer got the guy to tell the police where he had buried a woman alive and the police got there in time to save the woman.
It took the killer an hour to stop screaming from whatever Screamer had put in his head.
The fourth member of our team was The Smoke, a werewolf who had complete control over which form he was in and who could also walk through walls. He worked as a superhero for the animal gods.
Our team was the only team I knew about that crossed over four areas of gods, and we had done our share of saving humanity since we formed.
I sure hoped the mission tonight was a more mundane one, but with Stan coming to get me, that wasn’t likely.
Patty vanished into the back area behind the counter. About one minute later she came out into the lobby, headed for me.
She kissed me, then hand-in-hand we turned and headed for the parking garage.
“We got time to drive?” Patty asked as we started down the staircase.
“Yeah,” I said. “Stan said thirty minutes, it’s only been less than fifteen.”
So we got to The Diner in downtown Las Vegas the old-fashioned way. We drove.
Two
The Diner was a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant downtown on a side street about a half-block from the Horseshoe Casino. It had fantastic milkshakes that almost matched its fake 1960s décor. And Madge, the waitress, ran the place. She was a superhero working for the gods of food and beverage, and she didn’t mind us jumping in and out as long as her other customers didn’t notice.
Madge was a large woman in many ways, and always wore a uniform two sizes too small for her build, which meant watching her walk away in her tight skirt wasn’t something anyone wanted to do.
Just like my black leather coat and hat was my uniform and gave me extra power, her tight skirt and too-tight white blouse was clearly hers. Not sure what powers it gave her, or if those powers were worth it, to be honest.
“Been a week,” Madge said as Patty and I walked in the door, “since the last time you guys saved the world. I figure, since you are walking this time, whatever is going on now can’t be that important.”
“Nice seeing you as well, Madge,” I said, smiling at her as she popped her gum.
“Who else is joining you lovebirds?” she asked as we took our normal booth. Patty and I slid in beside each other leaving the other side open for Screamer. No one else was in the place and Madge looked almost happy to see us.
“Screamer and Stan,” Patty said. “Milkshakes.”
Madge nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you guys this time around. What you did for all those dogs a while back was really special.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She turned away to go make milkshakes as Stan appeared.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, looking worried as he pulled up a chair in front of the booth.
“Screamer is finishing up at the airport and needs a jump here when he’s done. The Smoke is in Alaska on another case.”
“The moose-shooting thing by the ex-governor,” Stan said, nodding.
“Bear,” Patty corrected.
Stan nodded again. “He might need some help on that when we finish with this one.”
At that moment, Patty’s cell phone buzzed and she took it out of her pocket and glanced at it. “Screamer,” she said.
Before I could jump to get him and bring him back, Screamer was sitting across from Patty and me, his cell phone still to his ear.
“Thanks, Stan,” he said, snapping the phone closed and putting it in his dark shirt pocket.
Stan hadn’t left the table. Looks like I had a lot more to learn about teleporting – I didn’t know that stunt was even possible.
“So what’s happening?” Patty asked Stan as she put her phone away.
“The fairies have challenged the trolls again,” Stan said.
Patty suddenly looked worried. “The Curse of the Bayback Bridge.”
“I thought we had another twenty years before that hit,” Screamer said.
“We all did,” Stan said, the look of seriousness on his face making my stomach twist. “But someone rebuilt the bridge damned fast this time around.”
Well, I knew that was all in English, but just because Stan said it like I should understand it didn’t mean I did.
But Patty clearly did.
And so did Screamer.
Sometimes being the new kid in the superhero neighborhood just sucked. I knew Patty was a good hundred years older than I was, and I had never asked Screamer how long he had been around. Stan remembered Atlantis, and once mentioned he had been born there.
Me, I was born in 1950, and sort of stopped aging around thirty-five when I got hired as a superhero by the gambling gods. I had been told I wouldn’t age for a very long time, which I honestly liked the sound of. But having a girlfriend a hundred years older than I was sometimes felt just intimidating.
“What are they fighting about this time?” Screamer asked, shaking his head.
“Is this normal,” I asked, afraid to mention I didn’t know who the trolls or the fairies were. Or what the “Curse of the Bayback Bridge” even was. At that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me they were talking about kids’ books trolls and fairies. I thought they meant some sort of teenage gangs or something.
“About every thirty to fifty years,” Stan said, “the curse makes them fight again. This time it seems the fight is over which group is a better no-limit poker player.”
“You’re kidding?” Patty asked, almost laughing.
“I wish I was,” Stan said. “And it’s up to us to make sure the tournament they are staging is settled and doesn’t explode into a bigger battle. Direct orders from all our bosses while they find and blow up that damned bridge again. Our job is to control the fight and make sure it’s fair if they can’t find the bridge before the tournament starts.”
“Fair with trolls’ dark magic and fairy fancy magic?” Screamer asked, shaking his head. “Now that’s going to be a real trick.”
“There is no magic in poker,” I said, still not having a clue what I was really talking about.
“Exactly,” Stan said. “So we have to figure out a way to keep magic out of this tournament completely. And we have two hours until it starts.”
“What starts?” Madge said as she arrived with our milkshakes.
“The trolls and fairies are fighting again, in a poker tournament this time,” Stan said, pulling his chocolate milkshake closer to him.
“The curse again?” Madge asked, clearly disgusted. “Count me out of this one. Two or three battles back those ugly, smelly, little trolls trashed my restaurant in a food fight against the fairies. I’m afraid if I see any of them again they may get even shorter.”
With that she walked off.
Both Stan and Screamer were laughing.
“Okay, I admit,” I said, “I’m the baby here, so I’m going to need a little help. What exactly are trolls and fairies?”
All three of them were starting to sip on their milkshakes and all three stopped and looked at me like I had lost my mind, which I was starting to think I might be doing.
“You ever read any fairytales when you were a kid?” Screamer asked.
It finally, at that moment, dawned on me. “You’re telling me that fairies and trolls are real?”
“Yeah,” Screamer said, laughing.
Patty patted my hand and pushed my milkshake closer to me.
“Very real,” Stan said. “And don’t believe that Tinker-Bell fairy stuff the movies show. Real fairies are tall, skinny, and pranksters. Mean pranksters. And the trolls are short, but not that short. They tend to smell like two-day-old fish, and they are naturally as rude as an angry landlord. But they don’t live under things. In fact a lot of them in this area live in a big condo complex out by the university.”
“And some of them are married to fairies,” Patty said.
I took a deep breath and tried to let all that sink in. Then, after a wonderful, cool sip of my vanilla milkshake, I asked the next question. “What is this curse, and why is their poker tournament so important, and why do we care that the trolls and fairies are fighting?”
I guess that was three questions, but shoot me. I was confused.
“Far before I was born,” Stan said, “a God of Domestic Happiness named Roger Bayback got into a really nasty divorce from his fairy wife after she had an affair with a troll. He put a dark magic curse on all fairies and trolls. The curse actually flows from the bridge his wife and the troll had sex under. As long as the bridge stands, the two races must fight.”
“You remember reading about World War Two?” Screamer asked.
I nodded.
“Hitler was a troll,” Stan said. “He took over Germany after the bridge was rebuilt. It’s been destroyed many times over the centuries, and he did everything in his power to clear out all fairies. And he did his kind and fairy-kind deep harm.”
“Not counting what he did to everyone else,” I said.
All three no
dded at that and Stan went on. “Hitler’s attitude was that if he killed everything and everyone in Europe who might be a fairy, eventually he’d get them all.”
“Thankfully, he failed,” Screamer said.
“But because of that,” Stan said, “all the gods stepped in and destroyed the bridge. And we keep destroying it every time it rebuilds in a new location. And we brokered a long-term peace between the fairies and the trolls.”
“But since the fairies and the trolls must fight whenever the bridge is up, because of the curse,” Screamer said, “part of the truce is that the fighting be in a contained way, like a poker tournament.”
“So we have to figure out a way to stop both their magic, and just let them play poker?” I asked, “Or it might escalate into something much bigger?”
“Exactly,” Stan said.
“Why don’t the gods just break the curse forever?”
Stan shook his head. “Can’t do that unless we can find Roger Bayback, and he has been missing for thousands and thousands of years.”
“So how are we going to contain both fairy and troll magic so they can just play poker?” Screamer asked.
I just stared at my milkshake, trying to wrap my mind around fairies and trolls being real. Let alone some ancient curse on them.
Stan shrugged. “That’s what we have less than two hours to figure out if the gods can’t find that damn bridge.”
No one said a word.
The image of Hitler as a troll just kept flashing through my mind. Not an image I wanted to keep.
Three
A half-hour later, after Stan and Patty explained troll and fairy magic to me, I knew there was no chance that this coming tournament would even last through the first fifteen minute round.
Alone, without magic and curses and other fairytale issues, poker was a game of emotions and frustration and cold, hard calculations. The first bad beat put on a troll by a fairy would send the room into full-fledged war, magic or no magic, curse or no curse.
Shootout in the Okey-Doke Casino: A Poker Boy story Page 1
