All In

by Nell Stark

  She wanted Vesper, but Vesper only wanted a casual relationship. More than once, Nova had considered admitting to her growing feelings, but Vesper had been clear in her expectations. The only thing Nova would accomplish by being honest was to prematurely end their time together. Maybe it was pathetic, but she would take what she could get.

  Last she’d heard, Vesper was in the craps pit with Priscilla, who was taking the day off from poker. On the way, she passed Sól Bar and almost changed course. A drink or three sounded perfect right about now. Forcing herself to resist temptation, she kept walking. She didn’t need a drink; she needed to go home and sleep in order to be sharp for the six-player Omaha event tomorrow at noon.

  She caught sight of Vesper first, as always. Today, she wore a sapphire blue dress and matching heels that reminded Nova of the deep sea on a clear day. Her jewelry was understated: gold teardrop earrings and a thin, golden watch around her left wrist. The overall effect was to highlight the beauty of her skin rather than its ornaments, and Nova’s breath caught as she succumbed.

  When Priscilla glanced her way, Nova knew she’d been caught staring. As she approached, she prepared herself for their inevitable pity. “Hot dice today, I hope?”

  At the sound of her voice, Vesper turned with a smile. It only lasted a moment, but its warmth soaked deep into Nova’s hollow chest. As Vesper searched her eyes, the answer to her question must have been apparent, because the expression faded. She started to raise one hand, then stopped.

  “Lukewarm.” Priscilla was regarding her critically. “How did you do?”

  “Busted out right before reaching the final table.” Nova shrugged. “I had over a ninety percent chance of winning, but the other guy made it on the river.”

  “I’m sorry.” Vesper’s voice was soft and soothing. Nova wanted to pull it around her like a blanket, close her eyes, and drift off.

  “Lousy luck,” Priscilla said. “Let’s get a drink. You could use one, and I need a break.”

  “Thanks, but I really shouldn’t. I need to be sharp for tomorrow.”

  Vesper looked at her as though she had two heads. “That’s ridiculous. You’ve been running yourself ragged. You’re a zombie right now, and all you’d do tomorrow is lose another buy-in.”

  Taken aback at the assertiveness of her tone, Nova struggled for a reply. Maybe she should have felt defensive, but mostly, she appreciated Vesper’s concern.

  “She has a point.” Priscilla gestured the length of Nova’s body. “Just look at yourself. The bags under your eyes could fit my luggage.”

  Nova felt as though she’d been backed into a corner. Though since it was Vesper doing the backing, she didn’t mind so much. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll take a day off.” Just saying the words filled her with relief. She really did need a break.

  “Let’s have that drink, then.”

  They ended up at Barri, where Priscilla commandeered a private table and ordered the most expensive items off the menu, including a five-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne. When Nova dared to ask what they were celebrating, Priscilla arched one imperious eyebrow and said, “Life. Youth. Passion.”

  “Cheers.” Nova didn’t look at Vesper as they clinked glasses. Had Priscilla figured out that they were…what, exactly? A couple? That wasn’t the right word. Fucking? Nova’s fingers tightened on the stem of her champagne flute. That wasn’t right, either. It sounded too crass. Friends with benefits? But no, they hadn’t begun as friends. Their chemistry had been undeniable since their very first meeting.

  After a while, their conversation turned back to poker. “Did the speed of the turbo event make it feel closer to playing online?” Vesper asked.

  “Yes. I think that’s partly why I made it as far as I did.” Nova reached for a piece of sushi topped by a tiny cluster of caviar, wondering when she would next eat so well. “Too bad there isn’t another speed event on the schedule.” Not wanting to monopolize the conversation, she looked to Priscilla. “What else do you plan on entering?”

  “Oh, I think I’ll hang around until the main event, as long as Vesper can find a place for me to rest my weary head.”

  Nova shared a brief, private smile with Vesper. Thanks to the way she’d handled Biz, Priscilla’s extended stay had been a non-issue. “I hope I don’t find you at my table in the early rounds,” she said. “You know too much about my style.”

  Priscilla gave her a pointed look. “You once told me that the greatest poker players are the ones who can publish books about their strategy and still beat the pants off you.”

  Nova laughed. Priscilla was sharp. “Are you sure that’s how I put it? In any case, touché.”

  “You should enter the Poker Player’s Championship.” Vesper leaned into Nova’s space as she spoke, her gaze intent. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. It’s perfect.”

  Perfect. Nova took a sip of champagne to buy herself some time before she replied. That wasn’t the adjective she would have used. There was a reason why she had never considered that particular event, and the reason was money.

  “I’ve heard people talking about that,” said Priscilla. “What is it?”

  “It’s the biggest mixed game event, played over five days,” Nova said. “There are eight games total, starting with limit two-seven triple draw lowball and ending with pot limit Omaha.”

  “It’s the most prestigious event at the tournament,” Vesper chimed in. “The one all the professionals consider the best measure of true skill.”

  Priscilla’s forehead crinkled. “Why is that?”

  “Having to switch games each round can be very difficult,” Vesper said. “It takes a lot of skill to be able to continually adjust to new rules and strategies. And then there’s the buy-in.”

  “How much is it?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars,” Nova chimed in, hoping they’d drop the subject. Technically, she could afford that much, but only if she depleted her bank account. Given her performance so far, there was no way she could justify that kind of risk.

  “Thousands of people try their luck at the main event,” Vesper said, “but the field for the Championship is usually less than two hundred.” She looked to Nova. “You’ll have better odds than in any other game. And won’t switching so often make you feel like you’re playing online?”

  Nova sat back in her chair and raised the flute to her lips. She had never thought about it that way, but Vesper’s logic was sound. Without the money, though, her reasoning was also moot. Steeling herself for embarrassment, she finally confessed.

  “You’re probably right. But I just don’t have the bankroll to do it.”

  Vesper’s expression shifted through sympathy to guilt, and ended in a scowl of fierce concentration. For once, Nova knew exactly what Vesper was thinking. She was trying to find some way to subsidize her entry into the Championship, but there was no way that Nova would allow her to spend her painstakingly hard-earned money just so she had one more snowball’s chance in hell to win a bracelet.

  “I can hel—” Vesper was beginning to say, even as Nova started shaking her head.

  Priscilla’s voice put an end to their argument before it had begun. “I’ll stake you,” she said, gaze fixed on Nova. “That’s what it’s called, isn’t it?” She took their silence for assent. “Half for half. I throw in twenty-five thousand now, and you give me half of whatever you win. How much goes to the champion?”

  “Two million,” Vesper said. She had since regained control of her features, and whatever she felt about this idea was buried deep below the surface.

  Nova felt paralyzed. Should she say yes? Staking was a perfectly natural practice in the poker world, especially for the more expensive games, but it would also add stress to a situation that already felt like a pressure cooker. “That would be a thirty-nine hundred percent gain on your investment,” she said instead as her brain automatically retreated to the simple comfort of mathematics.

  “What stock option can offer you th
at?” Priscilla raised her champagne flute again. Streaming bubbles glinted in the light as they rose toward the surface, and freedom. “Do you accept?”

  In the end, there was only one possible answer. Despite her own protestations to Vesper all those weeks ago, Nova knew the truth. Poker might be more a game of skill than a game of chance, but she was, at heart, a gambler. Priscilla was offering her a fighting chance to do what she’d come here to do—to prove to everyone that she belonged in this world. Tilting her own glass forward, she clinked their rims together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vesper stood with one hand clutching the rail, her gaze fixed on Nova where she sat sandwiched between two men. The twenty feet separating them felt like a gaping chasm. Having lost almost half her chips a few hands ago, Nova was teetering on the brink of the abyss. Vesper didn’t want to watch her flame out just before another final table, but she was the one who had pushed Nova into this, and the least she could do was to cheer her on.

  “Breathe, V.” TJ patted her briefly between her shoulder blades before returning his elbows to the railing. “It’s not over yet.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Vesper said. She glanced at her watch. It was close to midnight. Nova had been playing for nearly ten hours straight, with only a few short breaks. She had to be exhausted. But if she could just outlast a few other players, she would make it to the final table. And then…well, if she entered it short-stacked, she might find herself exiting all too quickly. But if she could make something of these final few hands and advance from a position of power—that would be an altogether different story.

  A pair of Oakleys shuttered Nova’s eyes, but her hands were far too expressive for her own good. When she was feeling confident, she plucked smoothly at her chip stack, allowing the small discs to clink together softly as they slid through her fingers. When she had poor cards, though, her movements were erratic. It was a small tell, but Vesper was sure she wasn’t the only one who had picked up on it. She reached for her phone and called Nova’s number, silently praying that she would pick up. Nova was allowed to answer it as long as she stepped away from the table, and when she signaled the dealer, Vesper’s relief was palpable.

  “Are you okay?” Nova was scanning the crowd in search of her.

  “I am, but you’re not. Quit messing with your chips. You’re broadcasting the strength of your cards.”

  Nova cursed. “I was trying to be so careful!”

  “Just keep your hands still. You can do this.” She caught Nova’s eye and smiled. The weary grin she got in return made her want to drag Nova back to her bed—for sleep, not for sex.

  “Thanks. I…thanks.” Nova disconnected the call and returned to the table. She put her hands in her lap, and from the tension in her arms, Vesper guessed she was gripping her shorts to keep herself anchored.

  “Come on. Be smart now.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Amelia leaned in from her other side with a sympathetic look on her face. “Fingers crossed.”

  Vesper suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Fingers crossed? Did Amelia really believe that luck held sway, here? More than any other event in the WSOP, this one was about skill. Nova would either prevail or she wouldn’t, and luck would only be able to help her so much. Right now, she was playing too tightly—a logical response to the hit she’d taken, but also wholly predictable. Her opponents were taking advantage. Whenever she seemed to want to stay in a hand, one or another of the players would make a large bet, and she would fold. She was backpedaling right into the jaws of defeat.

  As she put her phone back into her purse, Vesper’s fingers brushed a smooth, curved surface. Regretting her forgetfulness, she pulled it out. She had seen the mini conch shell in the casino’s gift shop this afternoon in one of those plastic bins filled with knickknacks designed to entice children. Years of living inches from the poverty line had trained her never to make impulse purchases, but she had bought the shell.

  “That’s pretty,” said Amelia. “But far from home.”

  “I bought it on a whim today. For Nova.” Vesper felt her face grow warm as she answered the unspoken question. “I thought she might be able to use it as a card cap, but then my day got busy and I didn’t have a chance to give it to her.”

  “Card cap?”

  “A little token to put on top of your cards,” TJ said. “It signals to the dealer that you’re still in the hand.”

  “I see.” Amelia smiled at her. “Well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

  If I can give it to her before she busts, Vesper thought. She mirrored the smile and carefully deposited the shell into her jacket pocket before turning back to the game. Even if it was a train wreck, she had to watch. If she continued to study Nova’s playing style, maybe she could come up with a few more tips to give her.

  In the hour that followed, antes and blinds slipped away like sand eroding from a beach. Nova’s lot didn’t improve; she continued to play much too conservatively. From time to time, Vesper glanced over at the other remaining table, hoping that someone there would bust so that this grueling day could end. She wanted to be supportive but wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

  When TJ and Amelia finally wandered off, it was a relief. She might feel comfortable with them, but she was still their host, which involved a certain measure of decorum. Right now, she was much too stressed and exhausted to be “on.” Her headache ratcheted up another notch as the player two seats to Nova’s left moved a large pile of chips into the center. He had probably bet the limit, which had grown progressively higher over the past four days. Damn it, Nova was going to have to fold again.

  Except this time, she didn’t. Vesper heard herself gasp as Nova pushed all of her chips into the center of the table. What on earth was she doing? Yes, the blinds and antes were wearing her down, but if this bet failed, she’d be done. A chill shivered through her, and she wrapped her arms around her chest, silently praying that Nova wasn’t trying to bluff.

  One other player had called, as did the original bettor, but everyone after Nova got out of the way. Vesper stood on her toes, though it did nothing to improve her view. Biting her lower lip, she watched helplessly as the dealer instructed the players to show their cards. This was 2-7 triple draw, she reminded herself. The lowest hand would win.

  For a long, agonizing moment, no one moved. Finally, Nova sat back in her seat, shoulders slumped. Vesper’s heart lurched into her throat until Nova pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and smiled in obvious relief. When the dealer confirmed the cause of her happiness by sweeping the chips in her direction, Vesper almost lost her balance.

  “Yes!” she whispered fiercely, managing to restrain herself from a more demonstrable display. No longer sitting on the shortest stack of chips, all Nova had to do now was to wait for someone else to bust. She had made it to her first final table.

  “She had the nuts,” someone said from a few feet away. If it was true, Nova had finally gotten a stroke of good luck at exactly the right time. In 2-7 triple draw, the nuts was a hand of 2, 3, 4, 5, and 7. Usually the worst of the worst, it was in this case the best of the best.

  Fifteen minutes later, it was all over, as the man who had led with the limit bet earlier went all in and lost. The tournament staff swarmed both tables, cataloguing chip counts and issuing instructions for the final table. They were going to have a long night of preparation. The Championship might not be nearly as high profile as the main event, but it was still a big deal, especially to the professional gambling world. They would probably need to spend more time with Nova than with most of the other contestants, since she was a virtual unknown in the live game.

  As if the thought had summoned her, Nova jogged up to the rail. In board shorts and a gray hoodie, perched sunglasses holding her hair in place, she looked like she’d spent the day on the beach, not glued to a chair.

  “Hi.” She rested one hand a few inches from where Nova’s was still holding on to the r
ail.

  “Congratulations.” Vesper’s cheeks stretched at the breadth of her smile. She wanted to lean over the barrier between them and kiss her. Everyone would see, but it was suddenly hard to remember why that mattered. “You did it!”

  Nova shrugged. “Lived to die another day.”

  Vesper shot her a look. “Lived to win tomorrow, you mean.” She reached back into her purse and held out the shell. “Speaking of which: this will bring you luck.”

  Nova’s fingers stroked over hers as she took the talisman. “It’s beautiful,” she said, inspecting it.

  “It matches your theme.” Vesper swept her hand through the air, indicating her beach attire. “I thought you could use it as a card cap.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Nova leaned in but apparently remembered herself a moment later and turned what had been clearly intended as a kiss into an awkward hug. “Um, thanks.” She pulled back quickly. “You should go home. The vultures need me for a while.”

  It was just past one in the morning, and Vesper was tired, but she didn’t want to return to her apartment alone. She would have to start doing that soon enough. The thought made her twinge deep inside.

  “No, I’ll wait. There’s always work to do.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you, then.” She seemed to want to say something else but then decided against it, raising the conch instead in an awkward salute. “Thanks again.”

  Vesper watched as Nova was swallowed up by the throng of media. Even if she didn’t win the event tomorrow, making the final table gave her a legitimacy that she might be able to parlay into other, less stringent sponsorship deals. Her career was finally taking off. Both their careers were. She had the right to feel triumphant, twice over.

  So why did she feel lonely instead?